Making Spain Awkward... one thumbs up at a time

I have to start this post off with one word: Cockroaches. As in yes, we have cockroaches in our bathroom. Last weekend, I was the first to stumble upon a cockroach as it scampered out of the tub. Needless to say, I ran screaming out of the bathroom to get away from it. Rachel and I returned only seconds later armed with sturdy shoes as weapons for a showdown. The cockroach at this point was long gone. Over the next few days, as my account of the cockroach became more and more exaggerated (I swear it was 10 inches long!), my roommates started to think that I was making it up. Until we heard a familiar scream coming from the bathroom… Carmen had found another cockroach. This time she saw it escape through a crack between the tub and the tile wall, where we figure that more are probably hiding. Later that night, Rachel also had her first sighting and was able to corner and kill one while another ran off. We finally decided it was time to take action, so we bought some spray and roach traps. After spraying all around the tub, I entered the bathroom to find a seemingly dead cockroach belly up on the floor. Chuckling to myself, while thinking “Briana: 1, Cockroaches: 0,” this beast had the last laugh by coming back to life in my hand and squirming around. Touché my friend.

On a non-insect related note, this week has been great and frustrating at the same time. I’m realizing more and more how messed up the Spanish education system is as these kid continue to not learn anything. They talk throughout class, are unresponsive when you ask questions, and keep talking even if the teacher is in their face screaming at them - which happens several times a class. A few times a week I take a group of 5-7 older students for a discussion section, in which it is just me and the students. The success of these sessions ranges widely, mostly due to how cooperative the students are. This week, I had a really great session with the 6^th graders who all listened and participated. My 5^th graders presented more of a challenge. They talked in Spanish the whole time, would not listen to others’ answers, and jumped around the room. Even though they are in the 5^th grade and have had 5 years of English classes, they are either unable or unwilling to answer the most basic questions. I asked one boy, whose twin brother Alejandro is in the same class, if he had any brothers, to which he responded no. Alejandro was sitting right across from him at this point. So I asked again, do you have any brothers? He responded no. So then I asked, Who is Alejandro? He responded, in Spanish, Alejandro es mi hermano (my brother). I honestly don’t know if these kids are just fucking with me, or if they really don’t know the meaning of the word brother.

Besides this one frustrating day, school has been better in a lot of ways. It really depends a lot on the class I am with – some classes are so excited to see me and start clapping and yelling HELLO BRIANA! when I walk in the door. Others couldn’t care less that I am there. The latter are also the classes that can’t speak or understand English and don’t want to try. The classes that do try and do know at least a little English are the ones that are getting me through. Friday, for example, one of my favorite students, Enrique, came up to me with a regalito (gift). He remembered from weeks ago that my favorite color was purple, so he gave me a purple bracelet, saying “your favorite color it’s pur-play. This gift is pur-play”. So adorable.

Friday afternoon we met up with a few girls from our program to go wedding dress shopping with Laura! We met at San Salvador, had a mid-afternoon drink, and then headed down the street to one of Sevilla’s many tiendas de novia. After finding some success, we headed to one of Rachel and my favorites, Cien Montaditos, for dinner. Saturday, we were invited to Antonia’s for lunch where she was having a big lunch party with about 14 Spaniards. The Cruzcampo and tinto were flowing, making it a kind of funny and confusing situation. I never realized how exhausting it is trying to keep up with a conversation in Spanish, but it definitely can be when you have that many people energetically talking and hand gesturing all at once.

Saturday night, we had a surprise party for Carmen’s friend Carlos at his favorite restaurant, Foster’s Hollywood (it’s an American restaurant!). He thought that he was just going out to dinner with his girlfriend Patri, and looked pretty shocked to see us all sitting there waiting for him. After a long dinner with cake, presents, and a few rounds of cumpleaños feliz, we headed to a club where we were supposedly on the list to get in for free. The problem, however, seemed to be that Rachel and I had American IDs… because of this we all had to pay a euro to get in. Discrimination at its best, huh? At least we were assured that we were probably the only Americans there, making it a far cry from Buddha. Although it was mostly Spanish music and techno, some musical highlights of the night included the Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme song and Who let the dogs out. What decade are we living in? Rachel and I being the americanas that we are taught our friends American awkwardness at its best – the double thumbs up photo pose. We are making Spain awkward… one thumbs up at a time.

Conquering Sevilla, one jokester fruit stand owner at a time

After my brush with culture shock last week, I have slowly been evolving my attitude and learning to embrace the hiccups along the way. I have been learning the techniques on how to survive daily life: how to order chicken at Dia, how to step over and dodge the homeless man (who we named Enrique) and his many piece furniture set on our block, and how to make friends with the local fruit stand owner. This week has been all about getting into a new rhythm.

This week in school I have been learning what my tasks will be in the classroom and how much involvement I will have. For a few of my classes, I take about 7-8 students for a 45-minute discussion time, which at first seemed pretty daunting. How do you fill up 45 minutes of English discussion with students who barely speak English and don’t want to learn? I thought that turning it into a game could be fun. I think, however, that my students were having a little too much fun. I never thought that I could be the teacher to yell at students, but I’ve found that sometimes it is necessary to get them to cooperate. The first 15 minutes of my discussion period consisted of them speaking Spanish, running around, and pulling down each other’s pants. Finally, I had to firmly tell them that if one more person acted up, the entire discussion would be cancelled and we would go back to the teacher’s room. This finally got them to semi-cooperate. I even got them to ask each other basic questions in English (do you like shopping? what is your favorite color?).

This week, we were invited to Antonia’s for the afternoon and then ended up staying for dinner. Let’s just say, there’s never a dull moment when it comes to her boyfriend Antonio. When he arrived, we were giving Antonia an English lesson as she cooked tortilla. He asked how to say “buenos noches” and then we were laughing for ages at his pronunciation of good evening (gruff eff-ening). Antonia had three French high school students staying with her for a few days, so we also had some fun trying to speak to them. They spoke very little Spanish and even less English, and even said as Rachel was talking to Antonio that her Spanish was way too fast to understand, which was pretty cool. Before dinner, Rachel and I had some fun messing with Antonio in the form of setting the table. He is very stubborn, and very particular about the correct way for a table to be set, so we got in a good laugh purposefully setting the table wrong and watching the consequences unfold. We even snapped some photos.

One major stepping stone in my conquering Spanish life occurred this morning. After being mocked and laughed at by the fruit stand owner, Rachel and I were determined to either prove ourselves to be competent, or at least get in on the joke. When we walked by him on the way to the grocery store, he gave us a hearty “Good morning!” to which we responded “Buenos dias,” and asked in Spanish when he would be closing for the afternoon (it was a little before 2 o’clock and everything closes for siesta at 2:30). Looking at his watch, he replyed “two….. ahh” then cracked a smile, not knowing the English for 30, and finally broke down to say “dos y media”. Needless to say, we walked away with the last laugh from this confrontation. After doing our shopping at the grocery store, we stopped back to see our friend and get some fruit and veggies. His younger and less trouble-making assistant was helping us, and we were holding our own with the terminology. Our friend then came over and started having a conversation with us… in Spanish. Turns out he is from Argentina, so he related that he, too, is technically American: “Americano del sur”. Score one for us.

Fotos del Piso!

Okay I don't know how to format this, but here are photos of my piso! First are the living room and tiny kitchen, bathroom, views of my room, and the kitchen again!

Welcome to the Real World

I thought that choosing to do a year in Spain teaching English would be a great way to avoid the real world and put off “becoming an adult,” but somehow the real world found me here; and it brought culture shock, communication breakdown, and frustrations with it. This is not study abroad part 2.

I’ve begun to realize that during study abroad we really were living a fairy tale. Everything was handed to us on a silver platter – food, fresh laundry, friendships. We were all in the honeymoon phase; everything was completely new and novel. Our only worries were where to travel. This time, however, the novelty has worn off and travelling has been put on the backburner for now. Simple things like going grocery shopping and doing laundry become even more frustrating and confusing in a place where you can’t find exactly what you want and things are unfamiliar. For instance, Rachel and I went to a fruit and vegetable stand this afternoon, and for some reason the owner of the store kept laughing at us whenever we ordered. We thought it was maybe because everybody else was ordering their fruits in terms of weight when we were saying “cinco tomates, tres zanahorias”(how are we even supposed to know how much a kilo of onions is?). He also made fun of the fact that we came with a list of things that we needed. And that we smiled and were polite. He then started speaking in English. For me, that was the most frustrating because clearly we are competent and were able to order in Spanish, thus we would be able to understand his Spanish. I suppose frustrations like this will just have to take getting used to. This experience has definitely brought with it high and low points, whereas study abroad seemed to have been all high points with the very infrequent hiccup.

On a happier note, this weekend Rachel and I finally got to meet up with some of the other participants on our program! On Friday we went to dinner at this great Italian place with Lauren, Gillie and Brittany. We tried to go to a bar afterwards, but indecisiveness mingled with a sudden downpour of rain sent us all home around midnight (early night!). Sunday, we went to Antonia’s for lunch, and ended up staying there for about 8 hours. She taught us how to make my favorite lentil stew, which we ate out on the terrace with her and her boyfriend Antonio (yes they are Antonia and Antonio). Antonio then taught us how to play a card game called Mentirosa, which is similar to bullshit but faster paced. Antonio was exceptionally good at this game, probably because a lot of the time he is full of bullshit. For instance, when I first met him he tried to tell me and Rachel these “facts” about Chicago (where Rachel is from). We weren’t buying it.

On Monday, Rachel and I went to the gym and took a Sevillanas dance class, which we were assured by the woman at the front desk was very basic and for beginners. Umm… no. The first sign that this was not a beginner class was that everyone there was Spanish, which means they already a basic knowledge of flamenco rhythm that I could only hope to learn. Second, some were wearing flamenco dancing shoes. Third, when the instructor came in, they all began doing the steps to the first dance together. What? I had learned this dance while tipsy on Manzanilla a year and a half ago at Feria, so I thought that my skills would translate. I clearly thought wrong. Their solution for our clear lack of knowledge was to move us to the front so we could see better. Even if I had these steps broadcasted on a big screen two inches from my face, I would not be able to mimic them at full speed, with the music and clapping in the background. Just when I thought I couldn’t be more lost, we switched to the second dance. Then we broke into partners. I pretty much felt very sorry for whoever was partnered with us, because my dancing was a lot more stumbling than dance moves. We decided maybe it would be best to find some sort of pre-beginner class solely for extranjeros so as not to repeat this frustrating and embarrassing experience.

On Monday night we met up with a large group of participants from our program at Plaza Nueva and went out for tapas. We were a force to be reckoned with – a group of 20 Americans wandering the narrow streets of Sevilla looking for fun. We stayed at this great tapas place for a little bit, and then headed to a bar near Plaza Alfalfa, which was pretty much a very large botellón crammed into a very narrow street. It was a lot of fun – we met some great people who we can hopefully keep in touch with! All in all, getting out and getting to meet up with even more people definitely made me feel better. It seemed like a lot of them were in the same boat as us, which was definitely reassuring!

Are you best friends with Justin Bieber?

So today was my official first day of classes. I work Tuesdays through Fridays for about 3 hours a day, and I can already tell that it will be tiring, but hilarious. Most of my classes today involved the kids (aged 8-11) asking me questions. Do you like fútbol? What is your favorite team? Do you like to eat jamón? (when I answered no to this question all of their faces dropped; they simply could not believe it). My favorite question, however, had to be: are you best friends with Justin Bieber? Not do I know Justin Bieber, or do I like Justin Bieber, but are we best friends. After laughing for a really long time, I replied that sadly no, I have not had the pleasure of meeting señor Bieber, but if I ever do I will convince him to come to Sevilla!

This past weekend was full of errands and crossing things off the list. On Friday, Rachel and I met a few of Carmen’s friends from Sevilla and had them over our apartment for pizza. We all then went out to Sevilla Este for caipirinhas (my favorites!). They were all super nice, so it was a good low-key get to know you night. On Sunday I convinced Rachel to go to this awesome market (el mercadillo) that I used to go to when I was here last time. It used to be right down the street from my homestay and had a little bit of everything… notice that this sentence is in the past tense. After walking about 45 minutes over the river to where the mercadillo used to be, we discovered that it does not exist anymore. So we basically ended up wandering around this sketchy back road with nobody and nothing in sight (we were definitely “wandering deep,” as Rick Steves would say). Finally, we asked two British women if they knew of a mercadillo, and they told us there was one about 20 minutes away. At this point, I could tell that Rachel probably wanted to kill me, because we had already been walking for so long, but I was convinced that it would be the same mercadillo and that I just midjudged the distance. Boy was I wrong. If I were to describe this market in one word, it would be garbage. Literally, because the ground was blanketed with garbage. For sale were old dirty tools, used underwear, porn, and puppies (I wanted to buy them just to save them from this horrible place), with some random Victorian furniture thrown in. I realize this doesn’t sound too disgusting, but it was. Take it from somebody who doesn’t get disgusted very easily.

After finally escaping from this horrible place (which was achieved by hiking through some bushes and across some old, broken-down train tracks), we made our way to Antonia’s for lunch. We told her about our experience at the mercadillo, and she just laughed. I guess she had heard about its awfulness but for some reason did not warn us not to go! She then taught us how to make a delicious garbanzo soup with tomatoes, garlic, peppers, onions, and chorizo. We hope that we will be able to reproduce it, or at least make the attempt to, sometime this week. So all in all it has been a funny couple of days, and at least now we will know to ask before trying out any other mercadillos!

Educación, Educación, Educación

Rachel and I have now officially moved into our new apartment! Although when I say moved in, I mean that I still have one suitcase to unpack, which is sitting open in the middle of my room. Oh well, I have 9 months to unpack.

Wednesday was the labor strike in Spain, so we had to walk about 30 minutes from the hotel to the apartment with our very heavy backpacks, which resulted in a sore back and the need to take a three hour nap. I thought I would be productive Wednesday and Thursday, but somehow the days passed without my accomplishing much at all. Carmen has been really sweet and has been cooking for us (we joke that she is like our mom), but the reality is that she is just a better cook than Rachel or I! Thursday night we went out for Tapas at Los Coloniales, which is in el centro near the catedral. Que deliciosa!

Today was my first say at the escuela, which was an interesting experience to say the least. I met first with Pepe, the bilingual coordinator for the school. There is another American in the school as well, Brett, who will split the classes with me. After much discussion we decided that he would take the younger kids (ages 3-7) and I would take the older (ages 8-12). We sat in on a few classes, two of which were art classes where the kids were left to do their own thing, one of which was an English class with Pepe. This class is an experience and a half. First of all, I never knew that 15 seven-year-olds could make so much noise. Instead of listening to the teacher like we did in America, they would all be constantly talking, running around, and jumping up and down without listening to anything. I thought that they would settle down once class began, but it seemed like class never began. Carmen has been telling us how education in Spain is “shit”, and now I believe her. For the past week, Pepe told us that the only thing this class has learned were the numbers 11-20. Seriously. I honestly don’t know whether it’s the lack of structure or discipline in the schools that is causing these kids to act crazy, or just the kids in general. I know that Spain does not recognize ADD or ADHD as actual diseases, which became very obvious when one boy, Ramon, kept running around the classroom and one girl, Lola, kept taking her shirt off and laying down on the floor. Pepe’s explanation for Ramon was that he was “nervous,” but that he had been nervous the past two weeks. Pepe’s explanation for Lola’s behavior was that she is “gitana”, meaning a gypsy. This somewhat racist assessment pretty much sums up Spain’s attitude towards the gitanos, and other races in general. In front of the entire class, Pepe felt the need to point out the two students who were not Spaniards (one Moroccan and one Peruvian), which left me not knowing what to say. Although American education is by no means perfect, or at the level that education should be, this one experience in a Spanish classroom really gave me some perspective into how well we are educated after all. Although I believe that ADD especially is over-medicated and over-diagnosed in the US schools, it is obvious now that there is a need to do so. At least I haven’t seen any seven year old girls refusing to wear shirts and being allowed to lie down and nap in the middle of class.

On the plus side, the kids all seemed really excited to have us americanos there, and all drew us pictures to take home. One boy asked me to be his novia. I respectfully declined, and then he tried to kiss me… he is seven.