Puente = Bridge = Long Weekend

Hey everyone. I've got the Christmas tunes playing and I hope you do, too!

Last weekend we had a "puente" which literally means a bridge, but in this case it means a long weekend. Monday was a national holiday because it was the Immaculate Conception. Oh Spain, are you secular? Are you Catholic? Well it's all very confusing. For example, the school I teach at is public. But you might not know it since the children attend Catholic religion class and there is currently a giant nativity scene set up in the hall and pictures of the Holy Family all over the school. I asked one of the teachers about this curiosity and she explained that religion is "optional" but no one opts out. As for the "belén", which is like a nativity scene but instead shows the whole town of Bethlehem, the teacher explained that this isn't just a Catholic thing, it's part of Spanish tradition. Hmmm..... whatever you say. I mean, I'm Catholic so what's it to me? But I happen to think separation of church and state is a pretty awesome thing. And while it doesn't function perfectly in the US (ahem, Utah?) I think we benefit from it in many ways. But Spain has a totally different history and culture and I don't know that it would ever be possible here.

Anyway, for the puente my friends and I decided to head south to see the Sierra Nevada Mountains and the city of Granada in the region of Andalucía. Our Spanish friend, Angel, went with us and since he has a car it was a nice chance to see some Spanish scenery along the way. Driving south you have to get through the region of Castilla la Mancha. The best comparison I can offer is the really ugly part of Nevada between Reno and Salt Lake. You know when you look left and right and there's nothing for miles except flat land and death? Well that's sort of Castilla la Mancha. But once you get into Andalucía it's very different. Literally all you can see for miles are rows and rows of olive trees. All the houses in the towns along the way have white roofs, which makes for a pretty sight.

We finally got to the little town we were staying at in the mountains outside of Monachil. It's actually a stretch to call it a town. It was really a pueblito, a village of sorts, and it appeared to be deserted. But we found our hotel and a nice woman greeted us. It's funny because I can actually differentiate accents around Spain now. Andalucíans often don't pronounce the last letters of words. So instead of "Buenas noches, tenéis una reservación?” it sounds more like, "Buena noche, tenei una reservacio?" or something like that. It wasn't too hard to understand. But it was really interesting to talk about it with Angel, because he was explaining that most people from other parts of Spain look at the southern accent as a sign of lack of education, stupidity, ignorance, etc. and that many Andalucíans try not to adopt a very strong accent in order to avoid that connotation. I told Angel that the southern accent had a similar rep in the US and he thought that was pretty funny.

Our first night there we wandered over to a little cafe we had passed on the way in. We went in and were excited to find it was a cave building: all the rooms were natural caves. We went in one where a young guy was playing the guitar. We had some tea and enjoyed the music that was played just for us. We talked to the young man and it turned out he was from Argentina. Actually we knew this about one minute in because Argentineans pronounce their "y" sounds like "j" sounds. It's very beautiful Spanish. It was a really cool way to start the trip.

That night we went into Granada to get something to eat. Something that is unique to Andalucía is this great thing they do with tapas. If you go to a bar and you buy a glass of wine or a beer or something, you are served tapas for free. And not like a dainty dish of olives or something. But real food. So we went to a little place and spent

6 Euros for three drinks and three plates of food. Pretty sweet deal. We're not used to such hospitality in the big swanky city. I also got to meet up with a friend of mine from USF named Peter. He lived on my floor in the dorms Sophomore year and now he's studying abroad in Granada. It's such a weird/cool feeling to be able to meet up with someone in another country!

The next day we headed up the mountain to the ski resort. My friends wanted to ski but I passed. While I love skiing, I don't have any of the equipment or clothing with me so I thought it was more money and hassle than it was worth. Plus, can Spanish snow or mountains compare with Utah? Claro que no. I instead spent the day in a cafe reading a book and sipping something warm. I was just as happy. That's another nice thing about Spanish restaurant rules. You purchase something and you are in no way pressured to leave your table at any time. I bought a coffee and sat at my little table for like four hours. No pasa nada. We came back from the snow adventure and were totally pooped.

On Saturday we moved camp to a hostel in Granada. It was very small and cute with a terrace on the roof and great views of the city. We had a coffee and pastry and then walked all over the city. Granada is such an amazing city and I highly recommend a visit there. It was inhabited and ruled by Arabs for over 1000 years, so the Arab influence on architecture, food and culture is strong. We walked through the Cathedral square, the street vendors, and all over Albayzin, which is the Arab area of the city. We had some great Pakistani tea at one of the many famous titerias (tea houses) in Granada. Finally we met up with Peter and another friend of mine from home, Sarah, and had tapas.

The next morning I woke up before sunrise to go to the Alhambra. I had heard so many amazing things about it that I decided it was a must. In order to get tickets you either have to reserve them something like three months in advance or you have to get in the ticket line at the crack of dawn. Unfortunately we were left with the second option. Luckily someone at our hostel had told me that there is a secret ticket machine that only takes credit cards that no one seems to know about. This tidbit of info turned out to be true and we skipped the lines and were the first people let in. I felt like one of those kids who gets to skip all the lines at Disneyland because they won a contest.

The Alhambra is a palace, fortress and garden built by Moorish emperors in the 13th and 14th centuries, and later used by Charles V in the 16th century. It is simply incredible. The palace has endless amounts of rooms with different patterned ceilings and the most intricate etchings done in marble walls. There are lots of fountains and arches and incredible views of Granada since the palace sits high in the hills. The gardens go on for miles and have lots of fruit trees and flowers I'd never seen. This isn't really a "words can describe" sort of thing so check out the pics.

We drove back to Madrid that day and I can really say it was an incredible weekend. I'm so glad I got to see Granada and definitely wouldn't mind going back.

This week was a really short one thanks to the puente. Nothing too eventful except that last night Real Madrid lost to Barcelona in futbol which is a sore subject around these parts. The rivalry between Madrid and Cataluña is a big one, and it has a lot more to do with it than soccer. As a Spanish girl said yesterday, "Cataluña... it's not Spain." It's pretty true. When I was in Barcelona I was really offended that people in stores and restaurants wouldn't speak Spanish with me. They would speak Catalan or even English, but not Spanish. Catalan is the regional language and it's sort of like a mixture of French and Spanish. Linguistic issues have become a hot debate in Cataluña as well as País Vasco and Galicia which also have languages outside of Spanish. For more info check out this really great article in the Economist:
http://www.economist.com/specialreports/displaystory.cfm?story_id=12501023

Anyway, I probably won't be posting again till 2009! I leave on Thursday for Paris and I will be there till the 29th. I'm spending New Years Eve here in Madrid and two of my roommates from San Francisco will be here. Then I'm heading to Dublin on Jan. 2-7 to visit my friend Eimear and her family. It should be a really fun vacation!

I will really miss Christmas at home this year. But I know I can spend every Christmas for the rest of my life with my family. So I'm keeping my spirits up!

I don't know that I will be able to send Christmas cards to all my family and friends... so let this serve as a big Merry Christmas to everyone I love!

Felices Fiestas,

Audrey

Illness, thankfulness, field trips.

Hello everyone! First let me start by wishing you a belated Happy Thanksgiving. I am currently listening to Christmas music which makes me incredibly happy :)

Obviously I have slacked off with updating my blog, but my justification is a good one. Unfortunately I have been pretty sick recently. I’ve had some form of a cold on and off for a month and half (the majority of the time I’ve been here) but it escalated into something worse. Finally, I had a complete breakdown one recent Monday at school which resulted in me crying like a little child in the principles office, explaining how I was tired of being sick and wanted my mom, and the principle taking my temperature. “OOOh 38 centígrados…”, she said. This resulted in more tears and me replying in Spanish, “I don’t even know what that means!” Well, it meant I had a fever. The result was a week off of work resting, several 30 second visits with my worthless Spanish doctor, and un montón (a whole bunch) of tests for my lungs. I haven’t gotten the final test results, but I have an American friend here who already finished med school and is taking a year sabbatical before doing residency. I told him everything that had happened and he thinks I had pneumonia. I agree. Luckily thanks to a week of doing nothing and some antibiotics I am feeling much better.

Harder than being sick was being sick in a foreign country. I found the medical system supremely frustrating. The doctor quite literally gives you ten seconds to explain what’s wrong with you before cutting you off and making a decision as to your fate. And from talking to other Spaniards, this is not exclusive to my crappy doctor; it’s just the way things are here. I also had several interactions with the “clinica” which is basically the hospital where you have x-rays, blood tests, and MRIs (all of which I had). In order to get the procedure, you have to bring a slip from your doctor requesting it. On one occasion I brought the slip for the MRI rather than the slip for the blood test which I needed in order to get the MRI. So back home I went. At least all of it was free.

All I wanted was to be in my own bed, with chicken noodle soup and saltines (neither of which exist here). It was hard to do all that medical business completely on my own. But in the end I feel better and pretty proud I was able to get through it all, and in Spanish!! Feeling better physically has also helped me feel better mentally. My first two months here have been less than a fairy tale and I would be lying if I said there weren’t times I wanted to pack my bags and head for the airport. But I sort of feel like I’m past my low point, and now that I’m better I can really start enjoying my time here.

My new found health and positive attitude left me very excited for Thanksgiving (Día de accion de gracias), even though I was spending it away from home. My friends Blair and Eimear decided to host Thanksgiving since they have the biggest apartment. The guests included: Blair, Eimear, Me, my two roommates Liz and Melanie, two English girls, one Scottish girl, and five Spanish girls who are our friends. So it was the first Thanksgiving ever for 8 of the 13 attendees! I don’t have a lot of experience in the kitchen but I made a spinach-artichoke dip and a sweet potato casserole and I was pleasantly surprised that everyone loved them! Our table was a big mix of Spanish, English, laughter, and ooohs and aaaws over every tasty dish. I explained the tradition where you go around the table and everyone says something they’re thankful for. But with our mixed guest list, we decided everyone had to do this in both Spanish and English. This was definitely a struggle for some, but everyone managed and we all applauded each other. It was really touching because the Spanish and British girls were so thankful to be invited since they understood what a special day it was for us. I think we (the Americans) were all really thankful to be in such warm company on a day that could have otherwise been a sad one. I did not expect this, but it was an unforgettable experience and one of my most memorable Thanksgivings to date.

In other news, Marta, who I teach with, was sick two days last week which left me teaching by myself. I was nervous but it went really well. Of course with the second graders I spent the first five minutes of class answering, “Where’s Marta?? What happened to Marta???” But once we got that matter settled everything was fine. I did notice, however, that I am starting to be a little more lax with my use of Spanish. We were explicitly forbidden to use a single word of Spanish when we started the job. I understand the reasoning, and I have really made every effort. But when it is time to discipline a second grader who really doesn’t understand, “Stop hitting Pablo with your pencil or I swear I will take you to the principles office!” then I will resort to Spanish. There are other instances where I’ve found it necessary. For example, when a fifth grader didn’t understand the word “against”. How do you explain the word against without just giving the direct translation (contra)? “Well, against is when… like when two teams play each other… or when…. you don’t agree with someone….” Enemies? No. Opposite? No. Different? CONTRA!!! Ok I give up, it’s contra!!!! And just like that you clear up all the confusion.

The other highlight of the school week happened when I got to take my first and second grade classes on a field trip Thursday. Each of the American teaching assistants gets to go on one field trip. I missed the last one to Escorial (which is a Spanish palace of sorts) and I was pretty jealous of the girl who got to go. The vice principal told us on Wednesday that one of us needed to go on the field trip the next day to la granja (the farm). This didn’t really appeal to me right away. But one of the other teachers, Visi, told me in confidence that it is by far the best excursión and that I should try to go. Based on this advice, I said I’d take it. So we all got to school early Thursday to get the kids ready. In the hall, Salma (the future supermodel second grader) ran up to me and exploding with excitement told me, “Audrey, vamos en una excursion hoy!!” (We’re going on a field trip today!) I told her that I was going, too which made her give me a big hug. How exciting. We packed up the buses as the over protective Spanish mothers lined the sidewalk to give a final wave (don’t they have jobs?!?!) and hit the road. I thought it was great to see that Spanish kids are just like American kids when riding the bus: songs are a must. The best song went like this, “Rosa robó pan en la casa de San Juan.” (Rosa stole bread from Saint Juan’s house.) Then Rosa responds, “Quién yo?” (Who me?) And everyone yells, “Sí tú!” and Rosa responds, “Yo no fui” (It wasn’t me.) and everyone yells, “Entonces quién?” (Then who?) Then Rosa yells out the name of another student, “Jose!” and the song repeats using Jose. The funniest part about this game was that the kids thought it was hilarious to pick me just about every other time. So it went like this, “Audrey robó pan en la casa de San Juan.” But I had to reply in English, “Who me?”, “Sí tú!” “It wasn’t me.” “Entonces quién?” and then I’d pick Paula. Of course at the end of her song Paula would pick me again. This continued the entire bus ride. But I didn’t mind.

When we got to la granja the farm group leaders pretty much took the kids off our hands and did all the work the rest of the day. The teachers then went and had a really nice breakfast and coffee. Nooooow I see why this was the best field trip ;) After that we went around the farm and took pictures of the kids doing the various activities. They rode a horse and made apple marmalade and got to pet lots of different animals. But the best activity, I thought, was when they got to watch how a slaughtered pig was hung out to dry and then separated in to all the different types of ham. These kids are between 5 and 7 mind you. They thought it was great. I thought it was hysterical. The group leaders pointed to the giant dead pig and explained, “This part of the pig is where we get jamón Serrano..” and the kids all went, “mmmmm jamón Serrano!!!” They weren’t really fazed by the giant carcass which I thought was kind of cool. Says a lot about the Spanish.

The teachers were also treated to a big lunch which I’d say is the best meal I’ve had here. That’s because all the food came straight from the farm. It was all delicious.

I’ve started going to church again with Eimear who is also Catholic. There is a beautiful Cathedral right by my house and since I live in kind of a swanky neighborhood it’s fun to see all the ladies go in their giant fur coats. There’s something comforting about mass here being pretty much the same as it is at home, minus the English. Well, there are some differences. There’s no music. No big entrance or exit. It’s pretty much a condensed, straight-to-the-point version of mass, except the priest’s sermon is much longer. But I look at it as good language practice. Today he talked about Saint Joseph and the Holy Family. The funny part is that I didn’t pick up that he was talking about Joseph til about a minute in. He kept saying, “Jose” and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out who Saint Jose was. But then he said, “Jose, Maria’s husband and Jesus’ father.” And then came my light bulb moment when I realized I was an idiot and obviously Jose was Joseph. There’s always more to learn!

Sorry for the excessive length of this post. Now that I’m feeling better I will do this more often and with fewer words! I hope everyone is getting in the Christmas spirit!

Besos,

Audrey

In my Halloween goodie bag: a new president and penicillin!!!

Hellooooo. Oh gosh, so much has happened in the last week or two....

First off, I hope everyone had a very Happy Halloween! The holiday was a bit depressing here because, well, it's not really a holiday at all. People know what Halloween is but that's about as far as it goes. Visi, one of the teachers at my school explained that it's difficult for a lot of Spaniards to be cheery and celebrate because Saints Day is November 1 and it is a very somber and serious occasion. Regardless, it's becoming a little more popular each year. Five years ago, no one knew what it was. Now there are a few decorations up here and there. But no one trick or treats or carves pumpkins and I only saw a handful of people wearing costumes.

The costume issue is a funny one. The three other auxiliares and I decided to attempt to wear costumes to school on Halloween to celebrate. So I was a pirate, Kristen was a basketball player, Kellie was a baby, and John was an old lady or something. The assistant principle saw our costumes and was very confused and said, "but those things aren't scary....?". I explained that in the US most people don't wear scary costumes. They try to be funny or creative or pretty. Clearly this message hasn't crossed the pond yet because the few people I saw going out to celebrate on the metro in costumes were generally COVERED in blood, had a fake knife going through their head, and wore fangs.

In the spirit of spreading my American culture to the little ones, I organized the Halloween lesson for Primeros and Segundos. We had them all make masks of either ghosts, vampires, or witches and they also made a "basket" out of paper pumpkins and some crafty gluing. I brought a bag of candy (which was very hard to find in any grocery store) and made a "door" out of poster board. I explained that in America little kids get dressed up and go knock on doors and get candy in their baskets. So they had to come to my "house", knock on my "door" and say "trick or treat" and I would give them a piece of candy. This was about the most mind-blowingly exciting thing they had ever heard. The room was in chaos. Visi was screaming, "But only quiet children will play Halloween!!!" So they all came through with their homemade masks and knocked on my poster board door and mumbled something similar to trick or treat and I put a sucker in their paper pumpkin basket. It wasn't perfect, but it worked and they really seemed to love it.

Shortly after Halloween came the BIIIIIG day - Election Day! I had mailed my ballot long ago, but I was so excited to see the results! My American friends and I decided to go to a results watching party in Bellas Artes hosted by Democrats Abroad. When we got there, we were shocked to see a line that wrapped up Alcala for probably half a mile and camera crews interviewing Americans. We waited in line for an hour and a half before finally getting inside. It was a little difficult with the time change, because we didn't really get any meaningful east coast results until around 1am. And since we had work the next day we couldn't hold out much longer than that. I stayed long enough to see that Obama won Ohio and I felt confident I could sleep soundly. It was really incredible to see how many Americans were living in Madrid, either studying or working. It was also pretty cool to see how many Spaniards were there to cheer and celebrate, also. The next morning I woke up to fantastic news and I am unbelievably happy for our nation and the world. And now I can come back to the US after all! :)

While I was a little jealous that I wasn't in the states to celebrate, I realize it's actually a really great experience to be here right now and to see how the world is reacting. The newspapers were all Obama covers of course, but it was funny to read the articles. There was no mention of disappointed McCain supporters or concerns about the new president elect. All the news coverage here has just been one big, teary, joyous Obamafest. There are high hopes over here for the new president and the new nation. I have sensed (and American friends here agree) that the election results changed global opinion of the US and its residents overnight. It seems like a bit of an exaggeration, but I don't think it is. Teachers at school came up to me grinning and said, "Estás contenta?!?!" (Are you happy?) and I told them that, yes, I was very very happy.

I would say that the vast majority of people here are ecstatic about Obama. Countless people have expressed to me how happy they are for us. But I have had a few experiences that I think are pretty telling of Spanish culture (or at least a minority of Spanish culture). The first was the day before the election. I give private lessons to the daughter of another teacher at my school. On this day the girl's father drove me home. I mentioned that the election was tomorrow and he asked me if I was for Obama and I said yes. And he said in Spanish, "Well you'll have to change the name of the White House to the Black House." I kind of laughed it off but I didn't think he was kidding.

The worst incident happened just last night. Blair and I went to dinner at a very small Spanish place by my house. There was on older man who was obviously busy working the bar, the kitchen, and waiting tables. We sat down and he took our order, came back with our food, and asked where we were from. We told him we were from the US. He said (in Spanish), "So, did you vote for Obama?" and I said, "Yes, we did. We're very happy." He responded, "Well I'm not happy at all. He's black." We were both a little shocked and I said, "Well he's extremely intelligent. He went to Harvard Law School." The man replied, "I don't care where he went to school. There's no such thing as an intelligent black person." We were both kind of floored, not to mention annoyed. I told him I completely disagreed and Blair said, "Things are different in the US and you'll see that you're wrong." He laughed and said, "This would never happen here in Spain. We know better. Blacks are all terrorists and murders, and nothing else." And then we asked for the check!

I wouldn't want to give the impression that all, or even most Spaniards think this way. Like I said, the HUGE majority of people here are thrilled with Obama. But it would also be dishonest not to share that I have noticed much more racism here than in the states. There are really awful posters all over my neighborhood for Frente Nacional, which is a political organization working to keep Spaniards "first" and to fight immigration. (Hey, I’m an immigrant, too!) There are also government billboards and posters showing a black person and a white person shaking hands with a message that says, "Con la integración de los inmigrantes todos ganamos"... (with the integration of immigrants we all win!). Am I in the 1970s?! Something else that really bothers me is that Spaniards refer to ALL Asians as "chinos". Chinese? Chino. Vietnamese? Chino. Korean? Chino. Thai? Chino. What?!?! These are not even remotely similar cultures!!! All of this only serves to make me appreciate how far our nation has come in the last few decades. We're not perfect, but I think there is something truly special and welcoming about America.

Lastly, I have been pretty sick lately, which is just not like me. I chalk it up to being surrounded by children all day and using the metro constantly. That and the fact that fruits, vegetables, and vitamins practically don't exist here. I had finally had enough so I went to the doctor on Thursday. Everyone in Spain can go to the doctor for free. But there is also "private" health insurance which basically helps you get an appointment faster. You see the same doctors and get the same medicine, you just wait a little less. The program I'm in provides us with private insurance, so I looked up my closest doctor and it turns out he works on my street about two doors down. I called to make an appointment only to find out that you don't make appointments. You just show up. And what hours is the good doc in? Oh, between 4pm and 6pm of course. Rough life.

I made my way over to the doctor with a laundry list of symptoms I had made sure I knew how to say in Spanish. Congested chest, achy joints, hot and cold spells, runny nose, all that good stuff. When the doctor saw me after a short wait, I sat down in a chair in his office (as in an office with a desk and books, no examining table or medical supplies) and he said "Dime" which is like, "tell me." With that lovely introduction I began to tell him, "Well, I'm very congested in my chest...." and before I can get out another word he's already got the stethoscope on me and telling me to breathe. Then he sits back down and asks what else. I explain, "Well my joints ache and I get really hot and really cold and...." and then I notice he's scribbling on a pad.... is he writing me a prescription???..... but I..... At this point the doctor stands up and says, "Ok. You take this one morning and night, and you take this one morning, night and afternoon. Got it?" Ummmm, ok. I guess. I'm thinking, but you didn't listen to the fifteen other symptoms I was ready to describe to you!!

I'd say the "visit" clocked in at under 60 seconds. He didn't tell me what he thought was wrong with me, nor what it was he prescribed to me. I found out later it was a fever reducer and antibiotics akin to amoxicillin. Care to ask if I'm allergic to penicillin??? Apparently not.

On the plus side, the visit was free, and the two prescriptions combined ran me about $5 (and that's for everyone. Pharmacies don't care about insurance). Whereas in the US you might wait out a bug because you don't want to deal with a $20 co-pay or an expensive prescription (or even worse, if you don't have insurance at all) here I wouldn't think twice about getting something checked out. On the down side, I wouldn't exactly say quality medicine is being practiced. What if I had had something much more serious but he didn't recognize it because he listened to me for five seconds? What if I had been allergic to penicillin, taken his prescription, and died. So let's hope Obama's universal healthcare plan offers better quality medicine than Spain.

Well then. This has gone on for quite a while! Home Alone II is on in Spanish and making me very excited for Christmas! I will be spending Christmas with my friend Linzy who is living in Paris. There are tons of Christmas lights all over Madrid that they are going to switch on any day now. Without Thanksgiving to break things up, Spaniards are prematurely pumped for Christmas way before Americans are! Hope everyone is well! Big hug from Spain.

P.S. special thanks to Leane who sent me an awesome care package!!! You rock!!

tapas and spandex

We had a time change here in Madrid and since I forgot to change my clock, I was so lucky as to wake up one hour too early this morning. So I figure it's a good chance to update my blog.

First, a special shout-out to my family who recently sent me a care package. There were a few important things that I forgot (like my camera cord) and a few things I just missed (like gum). But the highlight of the little box was definitely peanut butter. The Spanish can have their paella, I'll keep my PB&J, thank you very much. I told my roommates I was going to attempt to ration the peanut butter.... it's not going so well. They actually do sell it here at one store, but it's around 5 euros a jar ($7). So I don't think PB&J will be a habit of mine for very long.

Life here is getting better and better. The first couple of weeks were a bit of an adjustment. Plus I was studying for the LSAT so I didn't get to do a whole lot outside of my apartment. But now I'm taking advantage of my weekends and free time and doing some fun things.

I have a friend from home who is studying in Granada and she came up to Madrid for the weekend. It was a good chance to walk around with her and explore the city. We took a nice walk from Alonso Martinez to Colon, down to Banco de Espana and the Prado. At night I took them to Retiro Park to check out the lake.

I have a few close friends here now which also makes life more fun. Blair took the LSAT with me and she's a very nice girl and her roommate, Eimear, is great as well. My Spanish friend, Jesus, has been nice enough to show us some of his favorite places in Madrid. One place I love that I went to with both my friend from home and Blair and Eimear is called El Tigre. It's in Chueca which is sort of like the Castro (in San Francisco) of Madrid. It's a super popular tapas place. If you eat in the front you have to stand with your little plates of tapas. But if you push to the back and wait there are tables and they serve raciones which are bigger portions of the same tapas. We got croquetas cebolas (like battered, fried balls of mashed potatoes and cheese), patatas bravas (fried chunks of potatoes in a spicy sauce), and chorizo. Delicious, delicious, delicious.

Another favorite place of mine is a bar of sorts that Blair and Eimear's Spanish roommate introduced us to called Samosa. It's an underground cave-like place that only sells one thing - jars of sangria. We had to wait in line for a good twenty five minutes to get seated but it was well worth the wait. All over the walls there were quotes from famous writers. Ana (the roommate) explained that Samosa was a favorite hangout of major Spanish artists and writers like Goya and Machado. Cool!

My other taste of Spanish culture has come from playing volleyball here. I started practicing as soon as the LSATs were over and it has been really fun. It's serious enough that it's competitive and everyone comes to practice and so forth. But it's relaxed enough that we don't run or lift weights or any of that. Practice is pretty much just the fun parts of volleyball: pepper, hitting lines, games. The girls are all very nice and only speak to me in Spanish which is great. It is still tricky trying to learn all the volleyball terminology in Spanish. I can't help but yell things in English still - it's instinct.

We had our first game on Saturday. In typical Spanish fashion I was the first one to arrive (just over an hour before the game was to start). The other girls slowly trickled in and the coach was the last to show. There had been some major problems with the uniform company. Some jerseys were missing, some were the wrong size, all I knew was there was a lot of rapid yelling and cursing (which always sounds so much scarier in Spanish!). On Saturday when I got there, the oldest girl and the captain said to me, I don't know what we're going to do. There's no jersey for you..... madre mia! When the coach showed up they immediately began a back and forth spanish rant which I had a hard time following. I guess he got a jersey for me but it was the wrong number so they would have to pay a fine. I go to put on my jersey and much to my delight it is made of SPANDEX. As in, the same material as the shorts. You could see what I ate for lunch. If I get a chance, I'll have one of my roommates take a picture of me in it because it is truly hysterical. I guess I will be laying off the Tigre croquetas and sangria. Anyhow, we played pretty well and won the match in three straight sets. It was fun! We have another match on Tuesday.

Well this one is short and sweet, and as I think of more things to share I will try to update more frequently to keep from posting ten page novels. I'm also adding some pictures!

Things I miss from the States:
Target
Payless Shoes
peanut butter
cooking spray
a bath tub
hot water lasting longer than 2 minutes
pizza (and not the thin italian kind, the American kind)
English books
To-go coffee

Things I don't miss:
ignorant people
obesity
television
everyone driving cars
soda
fast food places everywhere
gyms

Profe! Dani se tira un pedo!!!!

I got a little behind with this and now I feel somewhat overwhelmed. A lot happens in ten days. I have lots to say about the great places I’ve been here and people I’ve met, but in this post let me tell you about the kids I teach (easily the best part of working here).

I teach Infantil (4 years old) just one class per week, but oh my goodness is it fun. I work with Josefina who is tough as a whip and also the Vice Principal of the school. I LOVE all the routines they do in the morning. Of course there is the standard, “What day is today?” “What’s the weather like today?” But there are also some fantastic songs which the kids sing like rock stars. “Good morning, good morning, good morning, how are YOU (and they point)? I’m fiiiine. I’m fiiiine. I’m fine. Thank. You. (and a thumbs up). What in life could possibly be better?

I teach Primeros (5 or 6 years old) about four times a week - two classes for Primero A and two for Primero B. Naturally I love them because they're so small and adorable. But I also find that they leave me completely exhausted. I sort of like the fact that they can’t speak much English because they speak to me almost completely in Spanish which is nice listening practice. It’s also amazing to me that the Primero A class can be so well-behaved while the Primero B’s appear to be on a sugar high 24/7. Visi is the head teacher of Primeros and she is very different from Marta (just wait, I’ll tell you about her). Visi’s sweeter, kinder, more like how you probably remember your kindergarten teacher. But she also doesn’t have quite the same control that Marta has.

Last week in Primero B the kids worked on a project taking drawings of various school supplies and making a mosaic of sorts using paper, scissors to make the paper into small scraps, and glue. And we’re not talking about the super-frustrating, worthless, plastic scissors we give our overly-protected children in the US. These are some serious blades, which naturally makes me a worried wreck. Then throw in gluesticks and millions of tiny scraps of colored paper and you’ve got yourself one crazy mess. In addition to this already stressful situation, add the fact that the kids are split into groups of five and told to “share” two scissors and two gluesticks. Share? Give me a break. Share=Warfare. I pretty much spent the hour walking from group to group and acting as mediator, negotiating peace treaties in the Scissors Battle of 2008. Of course, all of this tearful complaining to me, “profe”, is happening in Spanish. And all of my calm explanations that indeed, you will get the scissors after Sylvia but for now why don’t you glue, are happening in English. At times like these it is hard for me not to laugh at the sheer craziness of it all.

I teach Segundos (so about 7 years old) about 8 times each week. Marta is the head teacher who I help in Segundos and Quintos. At first, I was a little shocked by how tough Marta is with them. The kids have all kinds of pencil bags (estuches) and pencils (lápices) and sharpeners (sacapuntas) and empty yogurt cups to catch the shavings of their pencils and various other crap scattered across their desks. These things really serve no purpose except to give the kids something to mess with all day instead of pay attention, and to simultaneously drive Marta insane. I think my first day Marta turned to me and said quietly, "I'm sorry, but I have to tell them this in Spanish. It's important and I need them to understand." She then began to RANT in Spanish about how she wants ONE pencil bag on the desk and NO markers and a pencil sharpener that CATCHES the shavings. Pencil bags are for holding your pencils and NOT for hitting the person next to you on the head. And NO more yogurt cups. She then took one of the little empty yogurt cups off one of the desks and threw it on the ground and stepped on it. WOW, I thought. So this is why Spanish people grow up to be cold, hard, all business, no nonsense, scary people. No wonder the Spanish woman at the consulate made me cry. She obviously went to public schools in Madrid. But the more time I spend with the children the more I see that Marta's toughness might be necessary.... and working. By the time these kids are Quintos (10 years old) they are some extremely well-behaved and intelligent students. In fact, I've even started to notice my normally softy self being a disciplinarian. I'm not shy about snatching objects off desks or catching a kid in the act of goofing off and yelling, "Alejandro!!!" Maybe it's good I'm toughening up before I become an attorney!

The Segundos, while having the occasional behavioral problems (they are 7 for crying out loud) are by in large very sweet kids. They are still at that age where they're excited to learn new things and they like to sing songs and play games. Today we played Simon Says which was a riot. Of course I was Simon. They're learning parts of the body so it was perfect. "Simon says touch your elbow." Half of them touched their shoulders. "Simon says touch your ankles." Half of them touched their knees. Then Marta whispered, "Tell them to touch their tibias." And I whispered back, "I don't know where that is!" Haha so I guess it was a good learning experience for me, too.

I teach the Quintos (10 or 11 years old) about five times a week. I really like this class because they are the product and the reward of all the suffering with Infantil, Primero, and Segundo (not to mention Tercero and Cuarto which I don’t teach). They are, for the most part, very well behaved and their English is pretty strong. They speak enough that almost the whole class is in English. Their writing isn’t great, but most 10 year olds aren’t great writers in any language. It’s also interesting to see them becoming “pre-teens” and how different they are from the younger kids. One day we were talking about friends and what it meant to be a good friend. Marta said that part of being a good friend was keeping secrets. She then asked the class, “Is Pablo a good friend? Does he keep secrets?” Everyone nodded their heads. “What about Adriana? Is she a good friend?” Again, agreement. “And Guillermo? What about him?” A couple of hands shot up. “Well, Guillermo told me on the playground what Sergio said about Daniel liking Rosa so I don’t think that’s a good friend.” I thought this whole thing was a little weird and uncomfortable (although hilarious), but leave it to Spanish people to have a straight-to-the-point conversation full of finger pointing and leave with no hard feelings.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t have favorites. I TOTALLY have favorites. But I’m pretty good at keeping it under wraps. Or at least I think I am.

In Infantil it’s hard to pick a favorite because I see them so infrequently.

In Primeros, hands down Andreis is my favorite. Andreis appeared in my last blog entry here. He is the “Háblame en español!” boy. It’s funny that he’s my favorite, because Visi can’t stand him. Admittedly, he’s not very well behaved. And he speaks zero English and has zero desire to learn any. But I love him because he picks up on things the other kids don’t. Plus he’s a smart-alec while still being sweet. For example, during the scissor fiasco he called me over, took my hand, and said sadly in very quick Spanish, “No one will let me use the scissors and I haven’t gotten to cut and I really want to.” So I said to him in English, “Ok, well you’ll get the scissors next but look at all these scraps. Why don’t you glue them?” He grinned and said in Spanish, “You understand Spanish, so speak in Spanish.” I smiled and said, “No.” He responded, “See, you just did!” Hahaha. Wow, tricky.

In Segundos, I’m going to have to say I have two favorites. The first is Selma. She is light-skinned black, blondish curly hair, HUGE brown eyes and very long eyelashes. She’s Moroccan, so in addition to speaking perfect Spanish and pretty good English, they speak Arabic at home. Lucky! Now, I don’t just like Selma because she’s a future super model. I really like her because she is painfully shy but secretly she is very, very smart. The room has to be silent to hear her whispered answers, but she always gets them right. I try to encourage her to talk, because I think she has good things to say.

My second favorite in Segundos is Ruben. Ruben is sort of like Andreis in that he is very sweet, always grinning, but a trouble maker and for that reason Marta doesn’t really like him. But I happen to know why he’s a trouble maker. He’s too smart. Marta will give them activities to do in their workbooks and I’ll walk around and check out the progress and Ruben is finished within ten seconds flat. That leaves him with five minutes with nothing to do except poke the kid in front of him or talk to someone across the aisle. He understands almost everything in English so I guess he doesn’t feel the need to pay attention. I’m not really sure how to solve this problem, but I’m working on it.

The jury’s still out for a favorite from Quintos. I’ll let you know.

I promise, my next post will not involve glue, tears, or children and will instead be about the fabulous culture, people, and places I’ve seen here. Also, I’m playing volleyball and doing an intercambio which are both fun. But seriously, these kids are sort of a highlight of life here.

Last thing: I learned how to say “to fart” in Spanish. Essential for being in an elementary school. In case you were wondering, it’s “tirarse un pedo”. Don’t get that confused with “estar pedo” or “agarrar pedo” which according to my volleyball coach, mean to be drunk and to get drunk.

Un besito!

Today officially concludes the longest week of my 21 years living. But that doesn't mean it wasn't long in a good way.

Monday and Tuesday were reserved for orientation for all the newbies in the teaching program. To be honest, the program it self hadn't been too impressive up to this point: Jumping through a lot of meaningless hoops, unnecessary paperwork, little to no information, things not happening when they were supposed to. All in all, very Spanish. So I was pleasantly surprised when I showed up to orientation and things looked semi-organized. Check in booths? A schedule of the days events? Those events actually taking place according to said schedule??? Very un-Spanish of them.

Orientation gave me a lot of good ideas about things I want to do with the students and it made me really excited to get started teaching. The free lunch didn't hurt either.

So Wednesday was the first day of school! The night before I had the usual butterflies. I made the hour and fifteen minute trek in a crowded metro and then a short walk took me to my school. The school is called Antonio Machado, who happens to be one of my favorite Spanish authors. Good start. It's located in a suburb north of the city called San Sebastián de los Reyes. It´s a pretty cute place with lots of trees and lots of mothers walking their kids to school.

I guess I should explain a little bit what it is that I´m actually doing. I´m not a true ¨teacher¨ in the sense that I´m not leading the class on my own. It´s a bilingual school in which the kids attend english, science, and art taught in English and all their other courses taught in Spanish. (This is a public school, by the way. Get with it crappy American education system.) So I am assigned to some of the courses taught in English for each of the grades. While there is another "teacher" there, I will lead English activities and pretty much impart as much of my English gift as possible. They call us "auxiliares".

My schedule kind of blows, big time. But there's really nothing that can be done about it so I'm trying to just get over it. Everyone who works at Antonio Machado is very nice. The teachers are mostly older and there are three other auxiliares who are all great. I teach four different grades: Primaria (3 and 4 years old), Primero (5 and 6), Segundo (6 and 7), and Quinto (10 or so). Let me just say how quickly I have fallen in love with these kids. And they clearly think I'm the coolest thing since sliced bread. Except, as my friend Sean pointed out, they don't eat sliced bread here. So it would be more accurate to say they think I'm the coolest thing since sliced ham. And THAT'S pretty dang cool around here. Of course their first reaction when I walked in was, "que alta!!!!" (so tall!).

One thing that is kind of a challenge is that I'm not allowed to speak Spanish to them, at all. In fact the program directors told us to lie and say we don't know how. The problem with that is that I clearly understand them. The youngest ones, primaria y primero, have class mostly in Spanish and they are just being introduced to English vocabulary and phrases. So they ask questions and things in Spanish, and I respond in English. It makes for a pretty fun conversation. The older ones, segundos but more so quintos, speak enough that class is held pretty much exclusively in English. Going into this I thought I would like the younger ones more just because I've worked with that age and they're adorable. But I'm actually finding that I like teaching the quintos. They speak enough English that they understand jokes or can make one themselves. They're also better behaved.

A couple highlights from the first days: In primeros and segundos they start everyday with a routine. The teacher asks, what day is today? Immediately like twenty hands shoot in the air and they're desperate to answer the question. Half the time, you call on one of them who looks like he will simply die if he doesn't get to answer it and he'll say, "mmmm.... I forget." I think that's hilarious. So anyway, Visi (one of the teachers I work with) asks what day it is (it was Thursday) and she calls on a student. He says, "Today is.... Tuesday." Noooo today's not Tuesday but that was a good sentence Daniel. Who knows? What day is today? Next kid tries, "Yesterday was Friday." I'm trying so hard not to laugh. Wrong on both counts. One more kid gives it a shot, "Tomorrow is Wednesday." Hahaha I've got some work to do.

The other highlight was in primeros where they are allowed to speak to me in Spanish. They were coloring their names onto a notecard and one of the students who's kind of a class clown called me over. (Side note: NO ONE can say my name here. It's impossible for them.) He asked me in Spanish if I was going to make a card with my name, too. I responded in English, "Yes, I am going to color one, also." He gets right up in my face (as much as a 6 year old can) and with a big grin he says, "Háblame en español!" I laughed and told him I couldn't speak Spanish and he smiled slyly and said it again, "Háblame en español!" Haha I gotta watch out for that one.

When school was over on Thursday I left for the metro and saw another teacher (younger than most) walking in at the same time. She said hello and sat with me on the metro. She teaches children at the school with speach impedements or learning disabilities. We ended up talking the whole way and I realized it was some killer Spanish practice that I need to have more often. So I'm going to try to get her to ride home with me everyday!

But the fun didn't stop Thursday! Friday was my day off so I paid my rent (ouch) and did some grocery shopping (double ouch). I also met my new friend Blair and her roommate Eimeir in Retiro park for a coffee. Blair and I met because we were both taking the LSAT here on Saturday. We met up a week ago to check out the test site ahead of time and listen to each other complain endlessly about how horrible the LSAT is. Retiro is one of my favorite places in the world. It reminds me of Golden Gate Park in SF but with less trash and fewer homeless people living there. So we enjoyed our cafe and tried not to think about what was to come tomorrow.

But it did come! The long awaited, dreaded LSAT. I wasn't too nervous going into it, but the first section was logic games which is my hardest portion of the test. It kind of shook me up a bit but I recovered nicely once I got to the reading section. All in all, it wasn't my best but it wasn't my worst. But really you don't know til you get your score.

Blair and I decided we needed a drink immediately after finishing the test, so we went down some small street and found a little bar. We walked in and were immediately swarmed (literally) by a bunch of yelling, drunk, college-aged boys. They bombarded us with questions (they could tell before we opened our mouths that we were Americans). Turns out they were participating in some sort of hazing or initiation or something for a Spanish fraternity of sorts. Blair is from Texas and I told them I was from California just because that's easiest. They were thrilled. What if I had said I was from North Dakota? "Caleeefornyaaaaa!!!" One guy asked me if I had seen the OC (bad TV show about Orange County) and if that was what it was really like. They were all very surprised to hear I don't surf. Another guy asked Blair if her dad was a cowboy.

Well that concludes my exceptionally long week/post. Next week I start practicing with a Spanish volleyball team here which should be fun. I hope everyone is well!

Besos

A few observations about the Spanish...

So far everything has been going great! With work not starting til Monday, I've had some time to run errands, wander, and do fun things. I've only been here a week, but already I've made some observations about the amazing Spanish people.

The Spanish smoke. And I mean ALL the Spanish smoke. Everywhere. All the time. I thought there were a lot of smokers in San Francisco, but oh man was I wrong. I think if I had to make an honest guess of how many adults here smoke (not to mention it seems to be popular with teens, too) I would say 80%. Seriously. If we go out to get dinner, a drink, whatever, I come home and every article of clothing, every inch of my body, and especially my hair, reek of smoke. They smoke inside restaurants and drop their butts on the floor. They smoke while they're walking down the street. The bartender smokes as she's making your drink. As my Spanish friend Jesus warned me as he was having a cigarette, "Don't smoke. It is very bad."

The Spanish keep odd hours. Should you find yourself out and about at 8am or so, you might think you were in a ghost town despite the fact that 3 million people live in Madrid. I noticed this on my first trip here and now I realize why that is. When you eat dinner at ten and rarely go to bed earlier than 3am, you need to sleep in. And take a siesta. Siesta. This is so funny to me. I really can't understand how businesses here make any money! They open at ten, close by two, reopen at five, then close at 8. And they're all closed Sunday. I think the timing has been the hardest part of adjusting for me. I like to eat breakfast at 8am, lunch between noon and 1pm, and dinner at 5pm. I like to wake up somewhat early and go to sleep somewhat early also. That just isn't working here. So we'll see how much my habits change.

The Spanish don't believe in personal space. Introductions and goodbyes are your first warning. The double kiss! I love it. It's much more warm than a handshake. But walking the streets is another story. People make no effort whatsoever to share the sidewalk with you, and they have no problem bumping. They will stand so close to you that you think they might be trying to pickpocket you, even when they're not. When I first came to Spain, I was worried about the proper way to say excuse me, because there are several ways to do it. I asked this question on a Spanish-English translation online forum and a Spaniard wrote back, "I wouldn't worry too much about saying excuse me, because the Spanish don't."

The Spanish have some interesting style. It seems to me to be a world of opposites. My apartment is in the shopping district of Madrid, and I see lots of beautiful women walking down the street with amazing style, in amazing clothes. But I see an equal amount of people rocking raggedy clothes and mullets. Yes, mullets! And even dread lock mullets. And women in MC Hammer pants. I'm not sure where I fit into this mix, but I hope I lean to the former.

The Spanish love dogs. And anyone who knows me, knows that I don't. I have NO idea how they can have dogs if their pisos are anywhere close to the size of mine, but more power to them. I have to say though, that at least the Spanish only take their dogs to the park and the sidewalk, whereas Californians feel they have the right to bring them to restaurants and grocery stores. Yuck.

None of this is to say that I don't like the Spanish, or that their differences are flaws. I just think it's amazing to see how different our cultures are. And I'm curious to see how much I will change as a result, and how much I will resist. Me, eat dinner at ten? I don't think so!

One word makes all the difference

Yesterday I was determined to eat a meal other than Special K. My roommates and I headed out to run errands and find a market. First we went to Vodafone to get SIM cards. I should say that my Spanish is pretty good, but my vocabulary is very small and I don't have the best memory. So I have been getting around well enough. So in Vodafone I explained that we wanted SIM cards and the woman showed us a couple different options and we chose one. When she was ringing us up she said in Spanish, "You can choose a different plan so that you can call people more "barato". I think I looked at her with a blank stare because she grabbed another sales girl to tell me in English. "You can choose a different plan so that you can call people more cheaply." OOOOooooh. Cheap. That's probably a good word to know.

My next task was to find a coin purse. I had way too many euros jangling around in my purse. At this point I would like to thank all my Spanish professors over the years who forced us to describe the word we wanted to use when we didn't know the actual word. It's awkward but it gets the job done. Obviously I didn't know the word for coin purse so at the little trinket shop we went in I asked for a bag that holds coins. She said, "Claro, un monedero." I made the poor sales girl repeat the word about four times so I could say it and remember it. Not really sure if I'll ever need that word again but you never know.

Next we found a market to fill our painfully bare fridge. Grocery shopping here was a really funny experience. The most noticable difference is that apparently the only thing Spaniards really like is red wine and ham. I'm ok with the wine part, but the ham is another story. Chopped ham, sliced ham, roast ham, leg of ham, you can even buy the whole pig. Even when I made it over to frozen vegetables it was peas (with ham), spinach (with ham), mixed veggies (with ham). Not exactly my favorite of the meat family. Luckily I found a package of sliced turkey (the one and only package in the store) and a bag of peas sin jamón. The market also offered just about anything you can imagine in canned form but very little in the way of fruits and veggies. So this could take a little getting used to. When I finally made it to the checkout line there were two older women in front of me with a whole lot of stuff. The checker scanned a huge box of what else, Special K, and it rang up as 3.90. The Spanish women immediately began ranting in Spanish about how the Special K was 3 euros and not 3.90. The checker had to leave the stand and go look for the price only to come back and assure them it was 3.90. They protested further so the checker had to go find her manager in the store (I guess they don't have PA systems here) and finally returned with the guy who was able to convince the señoras that the cereal was indeed 3.90. With that the women shrugged and said, ok, we'll still take it.

After we got home I realized that we didn't have a corkscrew and I figured over the course of 9 months or so we would definitely need one. So I went out on my own to Corte Ingles, which is sort of like Target except 6 floors and way more expensive. I did my homework ahead of time and knew that the word was "sacacorchos". A nice sales lady brought me over to the sacacorchos department and went above and beyond by showing me all the different types of sacacorchos and taking them out of their box and demonstrating how they work and why this one was far better than this other one. As she's showing me them I sneak a peak at the price tags and wonder if these sacacorchos are made of gold. She is explaining how simply fabulous one particular sacacorchos is when I ask, "Yes. But do you have one more barato?"

Bienvenido a Madrid

After about 24 hours of traveling I made it to Madrid. I was able to find my roommates at the airport despite the fact we had never met before and none of us had phones. We jammed all of our bags into a taxi and headed for our new apartment and new life.

We live in the Salamanca barrio, which it seems is a pretty nice place. There are lots of cute boutiques and tapas bars and restaurants. We also live just a few blocks from Retiro Park and I brought my running shoes so maybe I'll put them to use. The "piso" or apartment is darling. VERY small but equally as charming. Everything is already furnished which takes out a lot of the work for us. As much as I hate unpacking, I'm excited to get settled.

I'm a little ashamed to say my first meal in Spain was Special K. We haven't pinned down a market in our area yet so I settled for what the corner store had to offer.

I don't really have plans for the next week (other than studying for the dreaded LSAT which I will be taking here in Madrid on October 4th) so I'm hoping to do a lot of exploring on foot. I miss you all! Pictures to come!