The one thing I'm truly glad I did / am doing while in Spain is teaching the ninos at the colegio. I know I complain about it daily but that's mainly because the 15 minute walk is too much for my lazy ass.
I teach English to 6 different classes. Okay, not on my own. I help a class with a professor, Ana Maria. The students are terrofied of her and I was too, at first. However, after a few times volunteering together with some little kids (more on that experience, later) and a few coffee and ice cream outings we've seem to get along quite well and I really like her a lot. She cares about the students and she really does want them to learn. She just tends to teach in an old fashioned style. but that's what Im here for!
Each week (every day but Thursday and the weekends) I go to the Catholic school where I try and convince these 12-14 year olds that they are, in fact, capable of learning English and yes, they are quite intelligent. It's amazing how many of them don't believe that. I go back to the sala de profesores where I get three or four students at a time and we talk about what they are learning that week. So, starting a couple weeks ago, after we discuss what we did that past week (to work on past tense and create a relaxed atmoshpere as well as kill some time because studying can be b-o-r-i-n-g) I ask them what they think they are the best at when it comes to English. Is it future tense? Sometimes. Talking about food? Most of the time. Asking for my facebook name? All the time. And no, I do not release that cherished information.
I've noticed that in this school in Spain and I believe the same goes in many other schools around the world, the kids are not only not chastised for not drawing a perfect face or tree but they are actually put down and scolded for drawing outside the lines and not following every direction.
I myself, have experienced the same punishment when in 6th grade I spent hours working on a "how-to-survive-in-the-wild" kit (with the help of my mom, who also spent many hours working on it. Thanks, mom!) and failed, miserably. I was so proud of this project because I thought no one else would do the same thing I did and the teacher would be SO impressed that I took the project into my own hands that she would not only give me an A, but she would tell the class that they should all try and be more like me and think outside the box. These day dreams almost never came true for me, to my dismay. I ended up getting a D on the project (which was failing at Kenmore Middle School if you were a white middle class girl). I was so furious (and still am) that I had received that grade. She told me that I followed only two of the 10 rules given for this project and one of those was putting your name on it. I only got that one because my mom reminded me to do it at the last minute. A lot of times after I've done poorly on an exam or project, even to this day, I will feel like its the end of the world. After a quick phone call to my dad, who tells me I wont even remember it in 2 weeks, I usually feel much better. And he's right. Most of the time I do forget about failing an international relations exam or a stat's project. But, at the age of 12 when grades were your only priority (and sleeping) I knew this was something I wouldn't forget. And that teacher who's name I cant remember because it obviously is as important to me as the rubric for that project, can kiss my butt because I've managed to still do well even when I forget to put my name on a few things!
anyhow, enough about my past. All I'm saying is I feel it's my responsibility to not let that happen to these kids. If it weren't for my dad who convinced me that I had done the project right, it was the teacher who was too brainwashed too see that, I would have grudgingly conformed to how the system wanted their shit done. When you are 12 and believe that everything the teacher says is law you take what they say to heart. So when they are called stupid because their desks aren't perfectly straight or when they are yelled at for not memorizing every single tense and irregular they believe it really is THEIR fault. So, once we've finished talking about our day and what we are good at when it comes to English and what we can work on I inform them that they are very bright students. After I say this, their faces almost always look a little confused and worried. And then I hear the words I hate "we're not smart. We're stupid." They've gotten a lot better at their response recently and I can see them becoming more confident when they speak English with me. But there are times when they have that look in their eyes like they don't fully believe me when I say they're smart. They may not be the best at English but that doesn't mean they aren't smart and as I explain this to them each day their English gets progressively better and their attitudes seem to shift for the better as well. I'm not saying that students should be spoiled or things should be sugar coated but they should be told the truth, even if the truth happens to be a positive thing. No, you are not stupid if your desk isn't straight. Yes, you probably shouldn't throw rocks at your friend Timmy and for that you will get detention, but you are not stupid. Just a little annoying and maybe we should check out that family situation at home.
Half of the things that I've pursued in my life I did because someone told me I could. Even if I couldn't (which I figured out on my own and decided it wasn't for me so I quite. Unless my mom didn't let me then the whole thing just suckeddd *ahem. track and field*) just knowing that someone thought I could made me want to prove it to myself. Not only should the students not be chastised for messing up their adjectives but when they are doing something correctly, this should be pointed out and maybe with a thumbs up or a smiley face on the page (no pats on the backs anymore because that could be construed as abuse).
Anyhoo, that is my rant of the day. That is not to say the teacher's are not fantastic at these schools. They usually are. Ana Maria for instance is one of those teacher's that I would have sucked up to in middle school because she really cares about her students and I sure as hell wouldn't want to get on her bad side. She wants the students to learn and she cares about what they are doing inside and outside of schools. There should be more teachers like this but with more of an open mind on how students learn. Textbooks aren't for everyone.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Andalucia
Thursday, the 13th
This morning we woke up at 6:30 to be at the bus stop at 7. We would get to the hotel at 2:30 making it about a 7 and a half hour bus ride. With small seats. And tall people (me). Resulting in crooked necks and attitudes (me. and everyone). BUT we got there! Even with our crazy ass bus driver playing his tailgating while texting game. This game is fun if you pretend you're on a roller coaster because people don't die on roller coasters. Usually.
After eating our lunch that our mom made us (aka bocadillo de jamon the size of a baguette. Literally, she gave us each a baguette) we continued on with the trip. However, because NewMom wasn't there to chastise us with those kind, judging eyes we deduced that we did not, in fact, have to finish our baguette sandwiches! So, naturally, I did. And then I got a food coma. It just felt right.
At 4:30 we went to visit the beautiful Capilla Real in Granada. It's a huge cathedral with stained glass and lots of semi-attractive Jesus' hanging on the walls (I know, I'm going straight to hell. This has already been confirmed with multiple members in our group). We got to go underground and see where the King and Queen were buried. It's always a treat to walk into a small, tight space where you almost always hit your head because you were blessed with big-people-genes to see where the bones of where the king and queen lay. I couldn't have felt queesier and more intrigued. I've been having a problem lately where every ancient, historic place we go I have to touch something I shouldn't. Luckily, the coffins were too far to touch but the sculptures were not so lucky. I knowwww. I'm going to hell. Might as well make it worth while.
Then, at 7:15, we went to see a Flamenco show while eating dinner. I've never been so horrified and amused in my life. These women (and men who could easily be confused as women) were so serious when they danced that it reminded me of when I would get in trouble for throwing blocks at Karlyn in elementary school except my teachers usually weren't dancing. sometimes yes, but I think that was Mr. Meagan and I'm pretty sure he was a drinker. We ate until we couldn't eat anymore and then we ate some more (surprised?) Afterwards, we took a tour of the Jewish community in Granada where our tour guide spoke english and was convinced that we were going to get lost which "frankly, is not his fault, so pay attention." It was probably the most entertaining tour we've had. Im guessing because it wasn't given by Jesus whose tours would make you want to sit through a church sermon instead that was in Chinese and you had to stand the whole time. On flaming coals.
Friday, the 14th
Friday, we visited la Alhambra. It's this huge palace/ fortress that could take 4 hours to tour it. We used all 4 hours. Jesus gave the tour. And no, I was not able to find a Chinese church with burning coals instead of seats so I had to suck it up and go on the tour. I attempted to escape a few times but because this occurs a lot and because they're not as stupid as they seem they have positioned the other professor, Tkac, in the very back of the group so if anyone looks like they're going to run he will be able to stop them. I've been asked multiple times "why are you always the last in the group?" I think he's stopped believing my courtious, "oh, merely because I am quite tall and I shan't disrupt the view of the others" because, well, I'm not courteous. And he has already caught me trying to escape about 16 times. At first it was funny to him. Now I think he wishes he was allowed to use threats and maybe a weapon to convince me and others that running away is so second grade and aren't we all on 16 different prescriptions of adderall that we should be able to listen to Jesus talk for 4 hours straight? You'd think so, but some things are just too hard to cure with legal cocaine. The Alhambra was probably my favorite place because it was so beautiful and I was easily distracted by the light, colors, and different structures. Even not being able to escape wasn't so painful because I could stare at a flower for 20 minutes and tune everyone out.
Four hours later we hopped on the bus and made our way to Cordoba.
We visited the Mosque which was beautifully built with round structures and coloring that made it look like you were standing under huge candy canes. Soooo cool!! It was huge and once you walked father to the center you learned that, oh howdy, there's a church in the middle of this mosque! The christians were nice enough to not destroy the entiiiire mosque just the middle. They did this to show the strength that they had and that they were also kind hearted souls and when they were not destroying villages and cultures in the name of god, they were destroying the center of mosques but keeping the outside. Good ol' Catholics. Always putting themselves second. After they put themselves first.
Afterwards, we went to a restaurant called Rafaela where they tried to kill us by putting a pound of salt in each of our dishes of rice. It wasn't the best Italian I had but it was a nice break from eating everything on your plate and giving back a half-full dish. Take that, NewMom!
Saturday, the 15th
On Saturday, we made our way onto Sevilla.
First, we went to the Royales Alcazales de Sevilla which was a Royal Palace that was originally a Moorish fort. They kepy much of the same architecture which was very beautiful and thoughtfully designed. This was my second favorite tour because it was short and we got free time to explore. There was a labarinto (maze) that you could walk through. The joke was on me and Kelsey because being the tallest in our little group we could see over the semi-tall hedges and still couldn't find the exit. After a few bouts of claustrophobia, we broke through one of the sides into freedom. Freeeedoooommmm! We walked around some more and played with Peacocks. Real, live, peacocks the size of your fat cat. They were so beautiful and intimidating that I was tempted to grab one and run away with it. Doesn't make much sense but I think I was pretty exaughsted at this point in the trip.
We then went to another Cathedral. 'Nuff said.
After that we had dinner in the hotel. I ate about 16 things of bread and was thankful that I wasn't hit by the flu that was going around and making everyone throw up (no, it wasn't alcohol poisoning to the surprise of our professors. We aren't THAT predictable).
Sunday, the 16th
Sunday was our last day on this wonderfully exaughsting trip through Southern Spain. Did I mention it was in the high 80's low 90's the entire time? Just perfect temperature.
On this day we went to Merida and visited the Roman ruins of the ampitheatres (where they send the lions out to eat the slaves or prisoners) and the theatre (where they would put on plays where the actors dressed as slaves would pretend to get eaten by lions). We learned that these were a very important part of the culture because if the people weren't entertained they would get rauwdy and then the government would have to kill them. Obviously. What other solution is there? So naturally, they would put on plays and shows of people pretending to get killed or really getting killed because this was the Jersey Shore of the Roman times.
This morning we woke up at 6:30 to be at the bus stop at 7. We would get to the hotel at 2:30 making it about a 7 and a half hour bus ride. With small seats. And tall people (me). Resulting in crooked necks and attitudes (me. and everyone). BUT we got there! Even with our crazy ass bus driver playing his tailgating while texting game. This game is fun if you pretend you're on a roller coaster because people don't die on roller coasters. Usually.
After eating our lunch that our mom made us (aka bocadillo de jamon the size of a baguette. Literally, she gave us each a baguette) we continued on with the trip. However, because NewMom wasn't there to chastise us with those kind, judging eyes we deduced that we did not, in fact, have to finish our baguette sandwiches! So, naturally, I did. And then I got a food coma. It just felt right.
At 4:30 we went to visit the beautiful Capilla Real in Granada. It's a huge cathedral with stained glass and lots of semi-attractive Jesus' hanging on the walls (I know, I'm going straight to hell. This has already been confirmed with multiple members in our group). We got to go underground and see where the King and Queen were buried. It's always a treat to walk into a small, tight space where you almost always hit your head because you were blessed with big-people-genes to see where the bones of where the king and queen lay. I couldn't have felt queesier and more intrigued. I've been having a problem lately where every ancient, historic place we go I have to touch something I shouldn't. Luckily, the coffins were too far to touch but the sculptures were not so lucky. I knowwww. I'm going to hell. Might as well make it worth while.
Then, at 7:15, we went to see a Flamenco show while eating dinner. I've never been so horrified and amused in my life. These women (and men who could easily be confused as women) were so serious when they danced that it reminded me of when I would get in trouble for throwing blocks at Karlyn in elementary school except my teachers usually weren't dancing. sometimes yes, but I think that was Mr. Meagan and I'm pretty sure he was a drinker. We ate until we couldn't eat anymore and then we ate some more (surprised?) Afterwards, we took a tour of the Jewish community in Granada where our tour guide spoke english and was convinced that we were going to get lost which "frankly, is not his fault, so pay attention." It was probably the most entertaining tour we've had. Im guessing because it wasn't given by Jesus whose tours would make you want to sit through a church sermon instead that was in Chinese and you had to stand the whole time. On flaming coals.
Friday, the 14th
Friday, we visited la Alhambra. It's this huge palace/ fortress that could take 4 hours to tour it. We used all 4 hours. Jesus gave the tour. And no, I was not able to find a Chinese church with burning coals instead of seats so I had to suck it up and go on the tour. I attempted to escape a few times but because this occurs a lot and because they're not as stupid as they seem they have positioned the other professor, Tkac, in the very back of the group so if anyone looks like they're going to run he will be able to stop them. I've been asked multiple times "why are you always the last in the group?" I think he's stopped believing my courtious, "oh, merely because I am quite tall and I shan't disrupt the view of the others" because, well, I'm not courteous. And he has already caught me trying to escape about 16 times. At first it was funny to him. Now I think he wishes he was allowed to use threats and maybe a weapon to convince me and others that running away is so second grade and aren't we all on 16 different prescriptions of adderall that we should be able to listen to Jesus talk for 4 hours straight? You'd think so, but some things are just too hard to cure with legal cocaine. The Alhambra was probably my favorite place because it was so beautiful and I was easily distracted by the light, colors, and different structures. Even not being able to escape wasn't so painful because I could stare at a flower for 20 minutes and tune everyone out.
Four hours later we hopped on the bus and made our way to Cordoba.
We visited the Mosque which was beautifully built with round structures and coloring that made it look like you were standing under huge candy canes. Soooo cool!! It was huge and once you walked father to the center you learned that, oh howdy, there's a church in the middle of this mosque! The christians were nice enough to not destroy the entiiiire mosque just the middle. They did this to show the strength that they had and that they were also kind hearted souls and when they were not destroying villages and cultures in the name of god, they were destroying the center of mosques but keeping the outside. Good ol' Catholics. Always putting themselves second. After they put themselves first.
Afterwards, we went to a restaurant called Rafaela where they tried to kill us by putting a pound of salt in each of our dishes of rice. It wasn't the best Italian I had but it was a nice break from eating everything on your plate and giving back a half-full dish. Take that, NewMom!
Saturday, the 15th
On Saturday, we made our way onto Sevilla.
First, we went to the Royales Alcazales de Sevilla which was a Royal Palace that was originally a Moorish fort. They kepy much of the same architecture which was very beautiful and thoughtfully designed. This was my second favorite tour because it was short and we got free time to explore. There was a labarinto (maze) that you could walk through. The joke was on me and Kelsey because being the tallest in our little group we could see over the semi-tall hedges and still couldn't find the exit. After a few bouts of claustrophobia, we broke through one of the sides into freedom. Freeeedoooommmm! We walked around some more and played with Peacocks. Real, live, peacocks the size of your fat cat. They were so beautiful and intimidating that I was tempted to grab one and run away with it. Doesn't make much sense but I think I was pretty exaughsted at this point in the trip.
We then went to another Cathedral. 'Nuff said.
After that we had dinner in the hotel. I ate about 16 things of bread and was thankful that I wasn't hit by the flu that was going around and making everyone throw up (no, it wasn't alcohol poisoning to the surprise of our professors. We aren't THAT predictable).
Sunday, the 16th
Sunday was our last day on this wonderfully exaughsting trip through Southern Spain. Did I mention it was in the high 80's low 90's the entire time? Just perfect temperature.
On this day we went to Merida and visited the Roman ruins of the ampitheatres (where they send the lions out to eat the slaves or prisoners) and the theatre (where they would put on plays where the actors dressed as slaves would pretend to get eaten by lions). We learned that these were a very important part of the culture because if the people weren't entertained they would get rauwdy and then the government would have to kill them. Obviously. What other solution is there? So naturally, they would put on plays and shows of people pretending to get killed or really getting killed because this was the Jersey Shore of the Roman times.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
This weekend the majority of the group went to Portugal and it was amazing!
we left Salamanca at 3:30 and it was a 6 hour drive to Lisbon. However, in Spain there's a law that says that every 4 hours the bus driver needs to take a 45 minute break. This can be split up throughout the 4 hours. I guess that's the only law they have or care about because they drive like they have no laws and i guess theres nothing wrong with texting while driving a bus full of college students across a country's boarders. Veryyyy interesting. Asi es la vida.
My favorite part of the trip was going to a Castle that cost 4 euros. it was amazing! you can literally go anywhere you want in and around the castle and it would take all day to do so. We walked throughout the green section of the castle tour and had to cross a pond to get to the other side into a cave. the pond was about 4 feet deep and the stones were just a little bigger than my feet. It led into this dark cave where you had to take pictures to see where you were going and then it entered into a cove that had a a circular staircase made of stone. so cool!
The other nights were very relaxing. A few of us would go out, have a glass of wine, then a bottle, meet gay french guys, pick the nose on huge portraits, and so on.
we left Salamanca at 3:30 and it was a 6 hour drive to Lisbon. However, in Spain there's a law that says that every 4 hours the bus driver needs to take a 45 minute break. This can be split up throughout the 4 hours. I guess that's the only law they have or care about because they drive like they have no laws and i guess theres nothing wrong with texting while driving a bus full of college students across a country's boarders. Veryyyy interesting. Asi es la vida.
My favorite part of the trip was going to a Castle that cost 4 euros. it was amazing! you can literally go anywhere you want in and around the castle and it would take all day to do so. We walked throughout the green section of the castle tour and had to cross a pond to get to the other side into a cave. the pond was about 4 feet deep and the stones were just a little bigger than my feet. It led into this dark cave where you had to take pictures to see where you were going and then it entered into a cove that had a a circular staircase made of stone. so cool!
The other nights were very relaxing. A few of us would go out, have a glass of wine, then a bottle, meet gay french guys, pick the nose on huge portraits, and so on.
Things I've learned while in Spain
1. Siesta is not an option, it is the law
2. I am still tall 3,600 miles away from home
3. You eat lunch at 2 pm, and you eat it all. All 3 dishes that could each fead a small African village
1. They say that culture shock comes in every shape and size. Mine came every few days at 3 pm when I had just finished a lunch that could put a fat man in a coma and I decided that I wanted to abuse my body some more by buying some excellent 1 Euro chocolate. As I'm walking from street to street looking for any store that might be open I realized that these people just don't like to work! Also, I'm pretty sure the government decided that there were better ways to get out of an economic crisis than working 8 full hours a day. I've slowly come to the conclusion that Siesta is a good thing, and that if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. (Okay, that's a lie, I've been practicing siesta since I was in high school and decided that napping was more important than reading for Mr. Babichenko's AP World History class because he didn't deserve my attention in class let alone at home and frankly, I was still growing and really freaking tired). So, I've managed to overcome my need for post-excessive food indulging and just take a nap! But seriously, people literally every major and minor shop in a 15 mile radius of Salamanca is closed. I think the hospital even takes a siesta but no one bats an eye because it's just what is.
2. You fellow readers may not be surprised that a 6.2 girl is STILL tall a continent away but it always comes as a slight surprise to me when I go to Europe and I'm not surrounded by tall men throwing chocolate and flowers in my direction. (Apparently that shit happens here). However, the difference I've noticed is that while I have not shrunk on my 8 hour flight over here, I am highly respected for the fact that my mom had some giant genes she wanted to throw my way. It's like when the Spanish rode on their huge horses and massacred the Aztec people (thank you, Latin American Civ), and while the Aztecs were getting slaughtered they decided that these huge horse-people were really Gods. I'm not saying thats exactly what I'm experiencing but it's pretty similar and totally cool. No, I am not massacring anyone but I did get approached by a midget who proclaimed his love to me in a club called Midevo (He was literally a midget, under 4 feet. or 1 meter or whatever they say here). I decided to let him live.
3. Lunch is eaten at 2 instead of 12:30 and it is almost always the size of a thanksgiving feast. And you have to eat it all. Not only do these people take siesta seriously (aka not working), they also take their lunch seriously. My new mom begins cooking lunch around 6 in the morning which I know because my room is right next to the kitchen window which is always open. This is not me complaining. I actually like incorporating the smells of the food we're going to eat and her clanking dishes together into my dreams. Once the whole family is seated at the table NewMom takes the liberty to serve us our first dish, which is usually a delicious thick creamy soup. The bowls are the size of our heads and it's filled to the bring. She then serves our NewDad, Ricardo and herself about a third of what she served us. We eat the whole thing and politely insist that we literally could not eat another bit because we might explode and we move onto the second dish. Here's the thing about meal time: It's all an acting game. This is what I learned in our intensivo that we had the first 2 week here. When you are offered food and you said "oh, no gracias" just like your mother taught you, they take that as "yes please, I'd love some more thank you for asking." I didn't learn till later that you had to throw in about 16 different phrases, man including "I can't eat anymore, seriously, you're going to kill me." Which apparently is the polite way of saying "seriously, NewMom, I'm worried that you might be trying to get rid of me with death by food."
The second dish is the meat portion. It's either pieces of chicken, steak, or lamb and it is almost always fried. And then covered in oil. And for both the first and second dish you must eat a big size of baguette because "it just isn't the same when you don't dip the bread in the fat/oil" They're right, it isn't the same. Even though I feel like I might just have a heart attack after the meal it really does make a different with that sleeve of bread that you also managed to stuff in your tummy. After the second dish comes the dessert.
By dessert I mean FRUIT! You might be saying to yourself, "well that's not too bad at all. Fruit's good for you!" Everything in moderation, my friends. The Spanish don't believe in moderation. They believe in Siesta and feeding you until you die. Most days we get melon. Melon the size of the elephant man's head. And yes, you eat it all.
With all of this said, I must confess that if she wasn't stuffing this wonderful food down my throat I would probably be doing it to myself, anyway. The food is just too amazing to decline. And if you do, the cook aka NewMom may no longer find a reason to live.
Don't fret, there is more to come.
2. I am still tall 3,600 miles away from home
3. You eat lunch at 2 pm, and you eat it all. All 3 dishes that could each fead a small African village
1. They say that culture shock comes in every shape and size. Mine came every few days at 3 pm when I had just finished a lunch that could put a fat man in a coma and I decided that I wanted to abuse my body some more by buying some excellent 1 Euro chocolate. As I'm walking from street to street looking for any store that might be open I realized that these people just don't like to work! Also, I'm pretty sure the government decided that there were better ways to get out of an economic crisis than working 8 full hours a day. I've slowly come to the conclusion that Siesta is a good thing, and that if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. (Okay, that's a lie, I've been practicing siesta since I was in high school and decided that napping was more important than reading for Mr. Babichenko's AP World History class because he didn't deserve my attention in class let alone at home and frankly, I was still growing and really freaking tired). So, I've managed to overcome my need for post-excessive food indulging and just take a nap! But seriously, people literally every major and minor shop in a 15 mile radius of Salamanca is closed. I think the hospital even takes a siesta but no one bats an eye because it's just what is.
2. You fellow readers may not be surprised that a 6.2 girl is STILL tall a continent away but it always comes as a slight surprise to me when I go to Europe and I'm not surrounded by tall men throwing chocolate and flowers in my direction. (Apparently that shit happens here). However, the difference I've noticed is that while I have not shrunk on my 8 hour flight over here, I am highly respected for the fact that my mom had some giant genes she wanted to throw my way. It's like when the Spanish rode on their huge horses and massacred the Aztec people (thank you, Latin American Civ), and while the Aztecs were getting slaughtered they decided that these huge horse-people were really Gods. I'm not saying thats exactly what I'm experiencing but it's pretty similar and totally cool. No, I am not massacring anyone but I did get approached by a midget who proclaimed his love to me in a club called Midevo (He was literally a midget, under 4 feet. or 1 meter or whatever they say here). I decided to let him live.
3. Lunch is eaten at 2 instead of 12:30 and it is almost always the size of a thanksgiving feast. And you have to eat it all. Not only do these people take siesta seriously (aka not working), they also take their lunch seriously. My new mom begins cooking lunch around 6 in the morning which I know because my room is right next to the kitchen window which is always open. This is not me complaining. I actually like incorporating the smells of the food we're going to eat and her clanking dishes together into my dreams. Once the whole family is seated at the table NewMom takes the liberty to serve us our first dish, which is usually a delicious thick creamy soup. The bowls are the size of our heads and it's filled to the bring. She then serves our NewDad, Ricardo and herself about a third of what she served us. We eat the whole thing and politely insist that we literally could not eat another bit because we might explode and we move onto the second dish. Here's the thing about meal time: It's all an acting game. This is what I learned in our intensivo that we had the first 2 week here. When you are offered food and you said "oh, no gracias" just like your mother taught you, they take that as "yes please, I'd love some more thank you for asking." I didn't learn till later that you had to throw in about 16 different phrases, man including "I can't eat anymore, seriously, you're going to kill me." Which apparently is the polite way of saying "seriously, NewMom, I'm worried that you might be trying to get rid of me with death by food."
The second dish is the meat portion. It's either pieces of chicken, steak, or lamb and it is almost always fried. And then covered in oil. And for both the first and second dish you must eat a big size of baguette because "it just isn't the same when you don't dip the bread in the fat/oil" They're right, it isn't the same. Even though I feel like I might just have a heart attack after the meal it really does make a different with that sleeve of bread that you also managed to stuff in your tummy. After the second dish comes the dessert.
By dessert I mean FRUIT! You might be saying to yourself, "well that's not too bad at all. Fruit's good for you!" Everything in moderation, my friends. The Spanish don't believe in moderation. They believe in Siesta and feeding you until you die. Most days we get melon. Melon the size of the elephant man's head. And yes, you eat it all.
With all of this said, I must confess that if she wasn't stuffing this wonderful food down my throat I would probably be doing it to myself, anyway. The food is just too amazing to decline. And if you do, the cook aka NewMom may no longer find a reason to live.
Don't fret, there is more to come.
Friday, October 7, 2011
really... TWICE!?
As I'm leaving the colegio where I help teach English, the professor who I help out asks me a favor: she wants to know if I want to get ice cream with her and then volunteer with little kids who's parents are unable to take care of them because of jobs/ or they are possibly in jail. The spanish are notorious for phrasing such invites in a way where it is IMPOSSIBLE to say no. Not that I didn't want to go, but I was wondering if there would be an oppurtunity in the conversation to say "ah, shoot,I have to visit my aunt in the hospital." Thankfully that wasn't an option because my poor aunt would be all alone at the hospital while I was eating ice cream at Plaza Mayor.
We go to the house where the ninos are staying and there are about 9 girls between the ages of 7 and 9. They were adorable and extremely excited to be talking with an American who they kept calling English. We played with them for about a half an hour and then took them back to the building where their parents picked them up. Remember that place where I almost got saved? Well, if not, then you can get the whole replay by scrolling to the next couple of entries. So this is the EXACT same place where I almost got saved. Not just the same building, the same APARTMENT. The same rooms, same chapel, same sinner (me).
You know that look you get from the priest when you only go to church on Easter and Christmas? He acts like he's happy to see you but really he's looking into your souless eyes wondering if there was really any chance in saving you. All answers point to no. This was the look I was getting from Isabel number 3 (apparently there are 4. There are only so many names from the Bible you can get without coming off as a hooker, slut, or murderer (ahem, Magdalen.. minus the murder. WE THINK). I happened to ignore a few of the emails saying they were meeting to feast on tuesdays and would like me to join. Now, I'm pretty sure they got the idea that I wasn't Catholic, or religious (ohmigawd say it isn't so), and I am still not sure if the Catholics practice cannibalism or not. A feast could mean anyhting. Anything.
Anyhoo, I don't think awkard is even the correct word to describe this situation. It was just. so. what. uh. yeahhh. so. EXACTLY. So there I am, repeating those words over and over in my head trying not to burst out laughing for fear of embaressing myself any more. I tell her how great her place is and how I should probably get back to my host mom because we eat at 9 and like to pray for 10-15 minutes before hand and god forbid if i'm late. Yeahhhh, soo.
Nonetheless, I will be doing this volunteering with the children situation every Friday I'm here because it actually was a lot of fun and I miss babysitting kids that age! (The kids I teach here are in 6th grade so 11/12 years old. Still fun but they're a bit smarter so I can't get away with not knowing much Spanish).
PS- I hit up the pasteleria twice today. Yeeeee!
We go to the house where the ninos are staying and there are about 9 girls between the ages of 7 and 9. They were adorable and extremely excited to be talking with an American who they kept calling English. We played with them for about a half an hour and then took them back to the building where their parents picked them up. Remember that place where I almost got saved? Well, if not, then you can get the whole replay by scrolling to the next couple of entries. So this is the EXACT same place where I almost got saved. Not just the same building, the same APARTMENT. The same rooms, same chapel, same sinner (me).
You know that look you get from the priest when you only go to church on Easter and Christmas? He acts like he's happy to see you but really he's looking into your souless eyes wondering if there was really any chance in saving you. All answers point to no. This was the look I was getting from Isabel number 3 (apparently there are 4. There are only so many names from the Bible you can get without coming off as a hooker, slut, or murderer (ahem, Magdalen.. minus the murder. WE THINK). I happened to ignore a few of the emails saying they were meeting to feast on tuesdays and would like me to join. Now, I'm pretty sure they got the idea that I wasn't Catholic, or religious (ohmigawd say it isn't so), and I am still not sure if the Catholics practice cannibalism or not. A feast could mean anyhting. Anything.
Anyhoo, I don't think awkard is even the correct word to describe this situation. It was just. so. what. uh. yeahhh. so. EXACTLY. So there I am, repeating those words over and over in my head trying not to burst out laughing for fear of embaressing myself any more. I tell her how great her place is and how I should probably get back to my host mom because we eat at 9 and like to pray for 10-15 minutes before hand and god forbid if i'm late. Yeahhhh, soo.
Nonetheless, I will be doing this volunteering with the children situation every Friday I'm here because it actually was a lot of fun and I miss babysitting kids that age! (The kids I teach here are in 6th grade so 11/12 years old. Still fun but they're a bit smarter so I can't get away with not knowing much Spanish).
PS- I hit up the pasteleria twice today. Yeeeee!
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Madrid with the Dresky
This weekend i went to madrid to visit my cousin drew who was in the midst of traveling the world. Pretty cool, i guess.
Thank god i stalked his Facebook pictures or it would have been a very awkward family reunion when i got off that metro stop looking for my clean shaven cousin and have him be standing in front of me the whole time. He has a beard that would make people question him when he gets on planes. My nickname for him when i would describe him to my friends and who we were going to meet up with was "my terrorist cousin." not a very endearing nickname but it sure fit the description. got to stick with the times, people. lumberjack drew was so 21st century.
we decided that it had been 2 years since we've seen each other. I figured this was true because he went the whole weekend without trying to drown me and i went the whole weekend without pinching him and running away. we reminensed as any cousins would who's family thinks its normal to not give any information about each other at all ever. It was actually quite a kick going back and forth trying to see if one of us had more information than the other. for instance, i learned that my uncle tim has a brother. he learned that our grandma shirly used to be our grandpa's english teacher. I learned that he graduated college. He learned that i was a twin. We are both still waiting to learn if there are any additions to the family that no one has bothered to inform us of or if we may had any extra toes or limbs when we were born.
How I almost got saved
the other day when i was sky ping with my mom, we heard a beautiful voice that could only have been that of an angel's. little did we know...
i was approached by this so called "angel" and her posy who were incredibly friendly and decided it was appropriate to serenade my mom via Skype. So, naturally, after they asked if i went to the university of salamanca and i explained to them my situation and gave them my information so that they could then pass it on to a friend who was "involved in the school organizations." Wow, i thought, pretty cool!
I got an email a few days later explaining that this so called organization was have a large dinner with many people in order to get the school organizations rolling. I thought, woo cool maybe i'll meet a cute guy or some girls with cute guy friends. Oops.
That thursday night, Olivia, Kelsey, Jordan and I decided that we should go to the dinner and get involved in our new temporary university. However, in order to do so it was only right that we'd have a couple glasses of wine first. We finally get the nerve to go to this organization's dinner and head out to find the place.
After 10 minutes we find the building and we are buzzed in. When we get up to the door there are 4 girls standing there and the place is silent. Oh well, i thought, we must be early because NO ONE is on time in Spain. They begin to explain to us that their organization has dinners every tuesday night (nom) they do volunteer work on the weekend with kids who need guidence (hint number one two and three. but i always like some volunteer work, so hey sounds cool), and last but not least, the chapel is open 24/7 for your convenience. I couldn't be more proud of my friends and i for keeping a straight face.
ummmmm say whaaaat??
oh wait, we're not done with you sinners, we'll kindly take you on a tour. We go from library to kitchen to chapel to wait... there is seriously a chapel in your apartment/headquarters/organization building??? not only is there a chapel but it has about 15 pews. i was a bit star struck (or christ struck, if i may) until i noticed that right when the girls walked in the kneeled for a good 45 seconds (more like banged their knees on the ground and spazzed for a bit). And then that awkward moment that no one like to acknowledge came. Well, the 2nd or 3rd one. The both turned sloooowly at me to see if i would bend over for the big JC too. I look at them like i've suddenly forgotten how to speak any language and sloooowly exit the room with a grin on my face that may have come off a bit too possessed. I guess they like a challenge because they rubbed it off as if this happens all the time and they knew they'd have me on my knees soon enough (no pun intended, but they were catholic).
After a hasty farewell we were out the door clutching our stomachs because the laughter was not behaving very well and was on the verge of escaping any second.
And that, my friends, is how i almost got saved.
i was approached by this so called "angel" and her posy who were incredibly friendly and decided it was appropriate to serenade my mom via Skype. So, naturally, after they asked if i went to the university of salamanca and i explained to them my situation and gave them my information so that they could then pass it on to a friend who was "involved in the school organizations." Wow, i thought, pretty cool!
I got an email a few days later explaining that this so called organization was have a large dinner with many people in order to get the school organizations rolling. I thought, woo cool maybe i'll meet a cute guy or some girls with cute guy friends. Oops.
That thursday night, Olivia, Kelsey, Jordan and I decided that we should go to the dinner and get involved in our new temporary university. However, in order to do so it was only right that we'd have a couple glasses of wine first. We finally get the nerve to go to this organization's dinner and head out to find the place.
After 10 minutes we find the building and we are buzzed in. When we get up to the door there are 4 girls standing there and the place is silent. Oh well, i thought, we must be early because NO ONE is on time in Spain. They begin to explain to us that their organization has dinners every tuesday night (nom) they do volunteer work on the weekend with kids who need guidence (hint number one two and three. but i always like some volunteer work, so hey sounds cool), and last but not least, the chapel is open 24/7 for your convenience. I couldn't be more proud of my friends and i for keeping a straight face.
ummmmm say whaaaat??
oh wait, we're not done with you sinners, we'll kindly take you on a tour. We go from library to kitchen to chapel to wait... there is seriously a chapel in your apartment/headquarters/organization building??? not only is there a chapel but it has about 15 pews. i was a bit star struck (or christ struck, if i may) until i noticed that right when the girls walked in the kneeled for a good 45 seconds (more like banged their knees on the ground and spazzed for a bit). And then that awkward moment that no one like to acknowledge came. Well, the 2nd or 3rd one. The both turned sloooowly at me to see if i would bend over for the big JC too. I look at them like i've suddenly forgotten how to speak any language and sloooowly exit the room with a grin on my face that may have come off a bit too possessed. I guess they like a challenge because they rubbed it off as if this happens all the time and they knew they'd have me on my knees soon enough (no pun intended, but they were catholic).
After a hasty farewell we were out the door clutching our stomachs because the laughter was not behaving very well and was on the verge of escaping any second.
And that, my friends, is how i almost got saved.
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