This past weekend was....eventful. We'll leave it at that. I will say, though, that my first European boy told me he loved me. I laughed in his face. His response was "well I love you right now". Cute. Italian. Got his number.
In other news, it's only Tuesday and I'm completely exhausted. It was one of those mornings where you keep pressing snooze and put off important things like breakfast & preparing for school just so you can sleep 15 more minutes.
My first class was excellent this week (in contrast to last week where they sat there & stared at me blankly. I hate that face.) We practiced pronouns and then played Hangman. Except we had to play Flower because "Hangman twelve years ago gave a student bad dreams".
This would have been good to know the first game we played, when I actually drew the hangman and was trying to be nice by giving them more guesses, so I was drawing shoes, hands, shoelaces, eyes (shaped like X's of course cause he's hanging)...yeah, the whole "no hangman" thing would have been nice to know before detailing a dead body. Eva, the teacher, wasn't mad though. Times like these remind me why I shouldn't be a parent yet.
In my class with General Nun, though.......awful. First of all the class is an hour long and she didn't show up for 20 minutes. Besides that, I hadn't planned ANYTHING for the class because the text book she gave me to look at is in Catalan. Catalan is what they speak in Barcelona and is a mixture of Portuguese and French. I can make out one out of every 20 words. Not helpful. Soo...luckily it was one of the girl's birthdays so we sang to her but the kids would NOT shut up. At all. So I yelled at them, clapped my hands, threatened them with homework, and still nothing. Then 2 kids were kicking under their desks playing footsie so I decided, in Spanish style, I'd join in and kick their feet to get them to stop. That was the only effective authority I managed today...and it was accomplished by kicking the students. Great.
Better than the punishment given by General Nun, though. She pulled some girl's hair to get her to shut up today. The girl was more offended she messed up her hair, though, so she immediately pulled out a comb from nowhere & made sure to redo it right there. Seriously, it's 4th grade...necessary??
The class was learning emotions and General Nun called up two students to act out a dialogue to learn about asking permission. So the objective was to have one student come up and say "Hello, I'm hungry. Have you got a biscuit?" and the other student would say "Yes, you can have a biscuit."
Here's how that went down:
General Nun: BABIES!!! MY BABIES!! JEW. Jew right dere. Jes, jew. Come up here. And jew too. Come on! Come on!! Okay now jew ask her for a beezkit and jew tell him he can have one. Now GO.
Boy: Hello, my name is Carlos and I am hungry. Can I have you got a biscuit?
General Nun: NO NO NO. Jew cannot say "Can I have you got!!" Jew must say one or de udder. Now come on babies. Again!
Boy: Hello, I am hungry, can I eat your biscuit?
........why is everything in 4th grade English ALWAYS so awkward?!? Even the nun started laughing. Even she knew that was awkward. Atleast she caught on this time. Usually she doesn't get it. Her awful English pronunciation struck again today while discussing clothes.
General Nun: What is the pirate wearing?? BABIES Come on! What ees the pirate wearing? Say "he ees wearing da shit. What color ees hees shit? His shit is blue, jes. Jes hees shit is blue. And what color ees her shit?? Her shit is purple.
Shirt. Shirt. R. Shirt. It's the whole British accent thing they are teaching. The silent "r"s in every sentence throw everybody off. I asked a girl to write "thirsty" on the board and she wrote "thisty". Frustrating!
Haha...so then was recess, or as they call it "playtime". Every recess yet the kids come running up and need help with someone who is hurt and I panic because I'm not supposed to speak Spanish at all...one kid was shoved & bruised his arm pretty badly. The solution of the other teacher was to go rinse it off with water. Somehow I doubt that helped much (actually I'm positive because the kid came back crying still...haha. Water doesn't cure bruises. Check.)
So anyways tonight I have my Master's classes at Las Suertes, a metro stop that is in the middle of BFE, and afterwards I'm having girl's night with a girl in my classes named Ashley to watch our favorite trashy Spanish show, Fisica o Quimica. I'm super excited to have a relaxing evening after my ridiculous weekend and crazy classes. Plus the boys on FoQ are so gorgeous. :)
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
WEEKEND!! WEEKEND!! WEEKEND!!
I feel like I might be exaggerating when I say this, but before I was a "teacher", I cannot remember looking forward to a Friday so much in my entire life. I mean I'm sure there have been moments, but this type of profound desperation I felt today, and the relief, seems new to me.
Either way it's FRIDAY!!! HIP HIP HOORAY!
I was telling Jeri that I'm so exhausted because 1/2 of my time at schools is spent laughing at all of the absurd things that happen and the other 1/2 is spent making an ass of myself trying to get the kids to talk (because that 1/2 of my classes refuse to talk because "they don't speak English"...duh, that's why I'm here!)
But I don't want to talk about teaching. Because it's the weekend!
I guess I could do a little updating on my apartment & Masters classes, since I'm officially "settled in" and all.
Well, settled in is a loose term. I still need to put up pictures in my room and unpack a few bags, haha. Let's be honest here, we're talking about Chelsea. The girl who finished packing her suitcases 3 hours before her flight left. And DAMNED proud! Haha.
So my apartment at Quijote...first of all it has a bidet, or as I like to call it "the tiny sink" or "European storage". When we were apartment searching, I insisted on having a bidet. My roommates probably thing I have some awkward fettish or a stinky hoo-ha, but really I think it's part of the European experience. As I learned last time I am here, there is no better place to store your hair dryer, towels, and extra toilet paper than the bidet. It's currently housing 15 rolls of T.P. as we speak!! :) It's truly the simple things in life that make me happy.
Another.....er......"quaint"...part of my apartment is the heating system. I don't know how to best describe our system but basically our heating for water and everything else is gas, so we have a lit pilot light at all times. Whenever we turn on hot water, the gas thingy lights up and heats our water. Except I'm not sure how old the heater actually is. Basically every time we need hot water, it sounds like a miniature explosion has occurred in the kitchen (where the water heater is). Seriously. At any given location, including the terrace, you can hear the Hiroshima fireball explosion of hot water. At first it's terrifying but now I just laugh it off. Best to roll with the punches. A nice repair man named Javier came today to clean/fix the heater, though, because a few times we found the pilot light had been blown out and left gas randomly flowing into our home (yikes, right? Oh well I'm not dead yet). He cleaned it and was very nice about it, although it did take him an hour and a half and he awkwardly grazed my boob while trying to explain the knobs to me. He also told me to call him any time we were in the shower & did not have hot water. He said that 3 times, actually. I hope the heater doesn't act up again, haha.
I also finally got mail last week! It actually caused a lot of problems, haha, as it lead to what I like to call my “Spain fail day”. Sometimes, in Spain, things don't go as planned. Like...a shop is supposed to be open until 5, but they close at 4 because they want to. Or if you go to the bank and they tell you that you can pick something up until 6, but everybody went home at 3. It's a Spain thing. Just like how we've been trying to get wi-fi for a week in our apartment, and they told us they would call in 7-10 days. They called 3 days later to tell us they got our order & would call us within 7-10 days. So they called to tell us they would call.
Spain.
Well, anyways, I went to go find the post office (because there is one post office per zone...so even though there is a post office like 3 blocks from my apartment, I have to go to a different one because they say so. Spain.) So anyways I first had to ask the bus driver if he could tell me when we were near the street I needed. He asked me, “do you know the area?” …...no, genius, if I knew the area I wouldn't need you to tell me what street to get off on. Duh. So he finally told me where to get off, & I walked up and down the same street for five minutes trying to figure out if #15 was up or down the street. I stalked a hair salon for 2 minutes trying to figure out their address, haha. So I finally figured out the numbers & started walking in the right direction. I got inside, & at the post office here you have to push a button & wait in line. So I got my number, waited 10 minutes in line (because the place was PACKED), had all of my documents ready so I could get my package (!!!! MAIL!!) and finally they called my number. So I go up, say hello, and shove all of my stuff at the guy at the counter. He looked at my mail slip for about 30 seconds confused, and then said “out the door, to the left.” Huh?? I had to ask again, because that didn't make sense (it is not even a full sentence as it lacks a verb) and he figured I asked again because I don't understand Spanish. So he said it slower. “Out...the door....to....the left.” Ah, thanks. Still confused.
So I followed...kind of. Out the door, to the right...there is another post office. In the same block. Same address, just 2 separate buildings. What the hell. So I went inside, where there was NOBODY.
Oh well, no line. So I went up to the desk, handed him my paper, and he looked at it for 30 seconds. Why was the paper so confusing?? Then he goes “ahh...they forgot to mark this box right here. You received this slip today.” (so what?) “so...this box right here says you can pick it up AFTER today.” (okay...I'm here today...so...I'm not getting it). “After today...so...tomorrow. As of tomorrow you can come get it. It's not here right now.”
Spain.
Frustrated & sad, I decided to go ahead, hop on the bus, and try to pick up my debit card because the bank had called me to tell me my Spanish debit card arrived & I could pick it up “anytime”. Last time I was at the bank, my banker lady told me I could pick up the card until 6 because I was just coming to pick it up and nothing else.
Got to the bank, tried to go inside, and got stopped by a security guard smoking outside. He asked what I wanted and I told him I was there to see Carolina. He took 3 steps inside, craned his neck to see if she was inside, and told me she had already left. I told him she told me I could pick up my debit card anytime and he was like “yeah...you can pick it up anytime before three. See, nobody's here?” Except there were at least 5 people there. Clearly. Not wanting to fight, I said thank you and headed to the bus stop to go all the way back home. 2 hours spent trying to be productive and I got nowhere. When I got home, I took a 2 hour nap to recuperate.
But for all the confusions like this that I've had in Spain, I've found other things that are equally wonderful. Such as the fact that Diet Coke here only costs 22 cents. And if you buy 5, you get one free. So I can buy a 6 pack of Diet Coke for like...$1.32. AKA...I might have a small addiction when I get back. Also the most random thing happened the other day. I went to McDonalds with Juliet before class because it's pretty much the only place you can get coffee to go before class (which is also a very American thing to do...take coffee to go...) so I ordered my cafe con leche & they put it in a bag. I went to go put my sugar in and they had put a random doughnut in my bag. I'm not sure why. I still don't know. So with my 1 euro coffee, I guess they throw in a random doughnut. I am still confused but it cracks me up all the same. I was like...seriously what am I going to do with this doughnut? I just needed caffeine.
Well, that seems like enough randomness for today. I'm off now to try to find salad dressing at the bigger supermarket. Spain does not believe in salad dressing. At all. They put oil & salt on their salads...or balsamic vinaigrette, but that's a little bit sour for my taste. I don't know exactly what I think I'll find, but I'm so sure it will be eye opening.
Next time I'll update about my Master's classes!
Either way it's FRIDAY!!! HIP HIP HOORAY!
I was telling Jeri that I'm so exhausted because 1/2 of my time at schools is spent laughing at all of the absurd things that happen and the other 1/2 is spent making an ass of myself trying to get the kids to talk (because that 1/2 of my classes refuse to talk because "they don't speak English"...duh, that's why I'm here!)
But I don't want to talk about teaching. Because it's the weekend!
I guess I could do a little updating on my apartment & Masters classes, since I'm officially "settled in" and all.
Well, settled in is a loose term. I still need to put up pictures in my room and unpack a few bags, haha. Let's be honest here, we're talking about Chelsea. The girl who finished packing her suitcases 3 hours before her flight left. And DAMNED proud! Haha.
So my apartment at Quijote...first of all it has a bidet, or as I like to call it "the tiny sink" or "European storage". When we were apartment searching, I insisted on having a bidet. My roommates probably thing I have some awkward fettish or a stinky hoo-ha, but really I think it's part of the European experience. As I learned last time I am here, there is no better place to store your hair dryer, towels, and extra toilet paper than the bidet. It's currently housing 15 rolls of T.P. as we speak!! :) It's truly the simple things in life that make me happy.
Another.....er......"quaint"...part of my apartment is the heating system. I don't know how to best describe our system but basically our heating for water and everything else is gas, so we have a lit pilot light at all times. Whenever we turn on hot water, the gas thingy lights up and heats our water. Except I'm not sure how old the heater actually is. Basically every time we need hot water, it sounds like a miniature explosion has occurred in the kitchen (where the water heater is). Seriously. At any given location, including the terrace, you can hear the Hiroshima fireball explosion of hot water. At first it's terrifying but now I just laugh it off. Best to roll with the punches. A nice repair man named Javier came today to clean/fix the heater, though, because a few times we found the pilot light had been blown out and left gas randomly flowing into our home (yikes, right? Oh well I'm not dead yet). He cleaned it and was very nice about it, although it did take him an hour and a half and he awkwardly grazed my boob while trying to explain the knobs to me. He also told me to call him any time we were in the shower & did not have hot water. He said that 3 times, actually. I hope the heater doesn't act up again, haha.
I also finally got mail last week! It actually caused a lot of problems, haha, as it lead to what I like to call my “Spain fail day”. Sometimes, in Spain, things don't go as planned. Like...a shop is supposed to be open until 5, but they close at 4 because they want to. Or if you go to the bank and they tell you that you can pick something up until 6, but everybody went home at 3. It's a Spain thing. Just like how we've been trying to get wi-fi for a week in our apartment, and they told us they would call in 7-10 days. They called 3 days later to tell us they got our order & would call us within 7-10 days. So they called to tell us they would call.
Spain.
Well, anyways, I went to go find the post office (because there is one post office per zone...so even though there is a post office like 3 blocks from my apartment, I have to go to a different one because they say so. Spain.) So anyways I first had to ask the bus driver if he could tell me when we were near the street I needed. He asked me, “do you know the area?” …...no, genius, if I knew the area I wouldn't need you to tell me what street to get off on. Duh. So he finally told me where to get off, & I walked up and down the same street for five minutes trying to figure out if #15 was up or down the street. I stalked a hair salon for 2 minutes trying to figure out their address, haha. So I finally figured out the numbers & started walking in the right direction. I got inside, & at the post office here you have to push a button & wait in line. So I got my number, waited 10 minutes in line (because the place was PACKED), had all of my documents ready so I could get my package (!!!! MAIL!!) and finally they called my number. So I go up, say hello, and shove all of my stuff at the guy at the counter. He looked at my mail slip for about 30 seconds confused, and then said “out the door, to the left.” Huh?? I had to ask again, because that didn't make sense (it is not even a full sentence as it lacks a verb) and he figured I asked again because I don't understand Spanish. So he said it slower. “Out...the door....to....the left.” Ah, thanks. Still confused.
So I followed...kind of. Out the door, to the right...there is another post office. In the same block. Same address, just 2 separate buildings. What the hell. So I went inside, where there was NOBODY.
Oh well, no line. So I went up to the desk, handed him my paper, and he looked at it for 30 seconds. Why was the paper so confusing?? Then he goes “ahh...they forgot to mark this box right here. You received this slip today.” (so what?) “so...this box right here says you can pick it up AFTER today.” (okay...I'm here today...so...I'm not getting it). “After today...so...tomorrow. As of tomorrow you can come get it. It's not here right now.”
Spain.
Frustrated & sad, I decided to go ahead, hop on the bus, and try to pick up my debit card because the bank had called me to tell me my Spanish debit card arrived & I could pick it up “anytime”. Last time I was at the bank, my banker lady told me I could pick up the card until 6 because I was just coming to pick it up and nothing else.
Got to the bank, tried to go inside, and got stopped by a security guard smoking outside. He asked what I wanted and I told him I was there to see Carolina. He took 3 steps inside, craned his neck to see if she was inside, and told me she had already left. I told him she told me I could pick up my debit card anytime and he was like “yeah...you can pick it up anytime before three. See, nobody's here?” Except there were at least 5 people there. Clearly. Not wanting to fight, I said thank you and headed to the bus stop to go all the way back home. 2 hours spent trying to be productive and I got nowhere. When I got home, I took a 2 hour nap to recuperate.
But for all the confusions like this that I've had in Spain, I've found other things that are equally wonderful. Such as the fact that Diet Coke here only costs 22 cents. And if you buy 5, you get one free. So I can buy a 6 pack of Diet Coke for like...$1.32. AKA...I might have a small addiction when I get back. Also the most random thing happened the other day. I went to McDonalds with Juliet before class because it's pretty much the only place you can get coffee to go before class (which is also a very American thing to do...take coffee to go...) so I ordered my cafe con leche & they put it in a bag. I went to go put my sugar in and they had put a random doughnut in my bag. I'm not sure why. I still don't know. So with my 1 euro coffee, I guess they throw in a random doughnut. I am still confused but it cracks me up all the same. I was like...seriously what am I going to do with this doughnut? I just needed caffeine.
Well, that seems like enough randomness for today. I'm off now to try to find salad dressing at the bigger supermarket. Spain does not believe in salad dressing. At all. They put oil & salt on their salads...or balsamic vinaigrette, but that's a little bit sour for my taste. I don't know exactly what I think I'll find, but I'm so sure it will be eye opening.
Next time I'll update about my Master's classes!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
...and then the Pandora's box of CRAZY opened.
Okay. So. As I write this, I am just finishing my first week of school. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were a joke because I didn't do anything. I sat around reading the student's textbooks (in the teacher's lounge) and got sent home early most days. I promise I'm not complaining. The kids here have a week of "sensibilization"...if that's even an English word...where they get used to coming to school, behaving (or not), etc. So for that week I was not needed.
But then school started Monday.
I teach 1st-6th grade. The 1st & 2nd graders are kind of unbearable, because they don't speak hardly any English. Just "Hello, how are you? I am fine thank you and you? I am 8 years old. My favourite colour is blue. My favourite animal is dog. My favourite sport is football (or for some, swing. Their favourite sport is swing. Right.) My favourite subject is maths." P.S. they are taught that we call Math, Maths. I giggle.
That is the extent of their english vocabulary. I was told very strictly to NEVER speak to them in Spanish. If they ask, I don't speak Spanish. Any. So from the start I've been establishing a relationship based on a pretty profound lie (seeing as my entire undergraduate career was centered around my Spanish education). Haha...well we are in Spain. Their rules. (I will be devoting an entire post later as to how many Spain-isms I have endured and how insane things can be here...get excited!)
Okay so school...where to even BEGIN. So the 1st and 2nd graders don't know anything I say. They always speak to me in Spanish and I have to just stare at them and say "sorry, in English?" and they swear under their breath and walk away making fun of me because I "don't speak Spanish". Which makes the entire experience really exasperating for me because whenever they talk about me in front of my face, I know what they're saying but can't do anything. Thanks, Spain.
My English coordinator is Rocio, and she's the coolest person EVER. I love her long time. She teaches English to the 5th & 6th graders, and because she knows the most English out of most of the teachers, she's in charge of me. Also, none of the teachers know English very well. It's truly the blind leading the blind. The teachers try to talk to me in English and tell me they don't understand my "accent". Most of them, that do speak English, have a British accent.
For example: In class one day, one of the teachers wrote THURSDAY on the board and asked the class "ok, class, what letter in Thursday is silent?"
I sat there and was like..............................um?? Trick question?? Maybe the H?
False. The "correct" answer is R. Thuhs-day. AKA how they would say Thursday in England, I suppose. Maybe.
One of my teachers is Eva. The first time I met her was rocky-ish but we're still working around getting comfortable with my role & each other. My first real class EVER, she goes "okay just review vocabulary with them"....what vocabulary?? So I did the whole "favourite" thing (I have to write like the British) with EVERY student and still had 15 minutes left. So I looked at her with panic like....what do you want me to do now?? And she got out a book and goes "here have them tell you about this picture".
Uh, ok. So I have them look at the picture and said "tell me about this picture. Tell me anything". Blank stares. Completely blank stares.
So I ask them "how many books? How many pencils? How many, what color, etc.?" Basically, I'm the teacher in those classes, instead of the "Language assistant", like I'm intended to be. I really want to make a button that says "I'm not a certified teacher" and wear it around, but I really doubt they'd care anyways.
Another teacher I work with is Isa. She's super nice. She teaches the younger kids too and kind of threw me to the sharks as well. In each class there is a know it all, or a wanna-be know it all, who always talks to much and wants to show off his English. In one of our classes, this boy Jeremy kept going "hi! Chelsea!! Hello! Eh, Chelsea, what is your favourite colour? Chelsea, what is your favourite animal? Ay Chelsea how old are you? Chelsea, Chelsea!! You are beautiful" although it always comes out of Spanish mouths as "jew are so booteeful". Always.
............awkward, considering that he is 6. I might have laughed in his face, said "thanks", and turned to the teacher and said "my, isn't he a flirt..." and gave her the most panicked face I own. He looked so accomplished though, and who am I do burst his bilingual dreams.
The older kids try to push their vocabulary, though, which always makes me laugh. Like when you ask "what music do you like?" You always get pop, rap, or Miley...but this one kid was so proud when he said jovially "heavy metal". Name one artist, kid. Dare ya. But I appreciated it either way.
Another teacher I work with twice a week is Maria Jose. She's a nun. I showed my schedule to the other teachers and they all said the same thing..."OH this class is with Maria Jose........she's a nun" immediately followed by a face that kind of looked like :/ <
They were SO right.
So Maria Jose. She reminds me of somebody's grandma, just any grandma, with the personality and authoritarian style of a seasoned military general. Her English has a Spanish accent, mixed with German and British. So I'd say she has Spagertish English. To start the class, she introduced me (even though most of the kids already knew my name). One of the kids said I was like Illiana, a girl who was an English assistant last year (which is true, exact same position). Her response: NO!! Illiana left!! She is gone and Chelsea is here now so shut up about Illiana.
Some of the kids were saying "aw, but we liked Illiana, she was so nice".
To which Coronel Nun responded: MY BABIES!!!! I told you. Illiana does not love you. She was offered a position at the school and she did not want to be here with you so she moved to Andalucia to be with her family and not with you. She had every opportunity and by the time she decided she wanted to stay, it was too late. It is not the school's fault. So now she is down there and you have Chelsea now. So shut up about Illiana.
Note: She says "my babies". A lot. Except she screams it and has a decently deeper voice so it comes off very creepy and reminds me a little of Urusula from the Little Mermaid (SING!!) The thing is, in Spanish, most people use pet names a lot like "carino" or "amor"...like dear and love, except couples use it too and it would be like saying "baby". Except she has completely misconstrued the translation and makes the classroom super awkward this way for me...but luckily only I understand how absurd things are.
She actually has created numerous awkward situations in class. And I was only with her for one hour.
She asked the kids what they did over the summer. One kid said "I went to Valencia". She said "what deed jew do in Valencia??" and he said "fui a la playa"...her response: MY BABY!!! I will kill you!! In EENGLEESH!! How you say playa in eeengleesh?" The kid was lost but managed to hear one of his classmates say "beach". So he was like "uhh....b..." And that's when it happened.
Nun: What ees eet??? Playa. Bitch!! Bitch!! Playa is bitch. Bitch!! You went to the bitch, yes?? You went and weent sweeming at the bitch, no??
....I immediately, being the language assistant, jumped in and said "oooh, bEEEEEEEach. EEEEEEEE. Beeeeeeeeeeeeach. Yes."
Nun: BITCH. Yes, bitch, that's what I said. Bitch. Playa. Bitch.
........didn't ever correct it. Just kept yelling 'bitch'. Very clearly.
Once more it's super awkward because only I know that she's yelling obscenities at the kids. Then again, she tells them to shut up every 5 minutes and always says "I weel keel jew eef jew don't shut up!" (I will kill you if you don't shut up!)
But then also screams "MY BABIES!!!! JEW KNOW I LUF YOU BUT JEW ARE KEELING ME!"
Lord. Then after class, because she does not know English very well, she started speaking to me in Spanish. Which is fine but none of the kids are supposed to know I know Spanish and there she is talking to me right in front of them. One of the kids comes up and goes "but Teacher, she doesn't speak Spanish". Her response: "Don't be dumb. Of course she knows Spanish, it's just a secret. Go get back in line. NOW." Then another kid came up and I didn't hear what he told her but her response was "I know, I know, but they still love you now go get back in line!" I looked at her confused and she asked if I heard what he had said. I said no and she was like "oh, he came up and told me his parents are separated. He does it every day, what am I supposed to say? It happens! They still love you but you still have to stand in line like everyone else."
Keep in mind, these were just my first 2 days. And just the cherry on top of everything. Needless to say, I have my hands COMPLETELY full, and it's not even completely due to the students...
But then school started Monday.
I teach 1st-6th grade. The 1st & 2nd graders are kind of unbearable, because they don't speak hardly any English. Just "Hello, how are you? I am fine thank you and you? I am 8 years old. My favourite colour is blue. My favourite animal is dog. My favourite sport is football (or for some, swing. Their favourite sport is swing. Right.) My favourite subject is maths." P.S. they are taught that we call Math, Maths. I giggle.
That is the extent of their english vocabulary. I was told very strictly to NEVER speak to them in Spanish. If they ask, I don't speak Spanish. Any. So from the start I've been establishing a relationship based on a pretty profound lie (seeing as my entire undergraduate career was centered around my Spanish education). Haha...well we are in Spain. Their rules. (I will be devoting an entire post later as to how many Spain-isms I have endured and how insane things can be here...get excited!)
Okay so school...where to even BEGIN. So the 1st and 2nd graders don't know anything I say. They always speak to me in Spanish and I have to just stare at them and say "sorry, in English?" and they swear under their breath and walk away making fun of me because I "don't speak Spanish". Which makes the entire experience really exasperating for me because whenever they talk about me in front of my face, I know what they're saying but can't do anything. Thanks, Spain.
My English coordinator is Rocio, and she's the coolest person EVER. I love her long time. She teaches English to the 5th & 6th graders, and because she knows the most English out of most of the teachers, she's in charge of me. Also, none of the teachers know English very well. It's truly the blind leading the blind. The teachers try to talk to me in English and tell me they don't understand my "accent". Most of them, that do speak English, have a British accent.
For example: In class one day, one of the teachers wrote THURSDAY on the board and asked the class "ok, class, what letter in Thursday is silent?"
I sat there and was like..............................um?? Trick question?? Maybe the H?
False. The "correct" answer is R. Thuhs-day. AKA how they would say Thursday in England, I suppose. Maybe.
One of my teachers is Eva. The first time I met her was rocky-ish but we're still working around getting comfortable with my role & each other. My first real class EVER, she goes "okay just review vocabulary with them"....what vocabulary?? So I did the whole "favourite" thing (I have to write like the British) with EVERY student and still had 15 minutes left. So I looked at her with panic like....what do you want me to do now?? And she got out a book and goes "here have them tell you about this picture".
Uh, ok. So I have them look at the picture and said "tell me about this picture. Tell me anything". Blank stares. Completely blank stares.
So I ask them "how many books? How many pencils? How many, what color, etc.?" Basically, I'm the teacher in those classes, instead of the "Language assistant", like I'm intended to be. I really want to make a button that says "I'm not a certified teacher" and wear it around, but I really doubt they'd care anyways.
Another teacher I work with is Isa. She's super nice. She teaches the younger kids too and kind of threw me to the sharks as well. In each class there is a know it all, or a wanna-be know it all, who always talks to much and wants to show off his English. In one of our classes, this boy Jeremy kept going "hi! Chelsea!! Hello! Eh, Chelsea, what is your favourite colour? Chelsea, what is your favourite animal? Ay Chelsea how old are you? Chelsea, Chelsea!! You are beautiful" although it always comes out of Spanish mouths as "jew are so booteeful". Always.
............awkward, considering that he is 6. I might have laughed in his face, said "thanks", and turned to the teacher and said "my, isn't he a flirt..." and gave her the most panicked face I own. He looked so accomplished though, and who am I do burst his bilingual dreams.
The older kids try to push their vocabulary, though, which always makes me laugh. Like when you ask "what music do you like?" You always get pop, rap, or Miley...but this one kid was so proud when he said jovially "heavy metal". Name one artist, kid. Dare ya. But I appreciated it either way.
Another teacher I work with twice a week is Maria Jose. She's a nun. I showed my schedule to the other teachers and they all said the same thing..."OH this class is with Maria Jose........she's a nun" immediately followed by a face that kind of looked like :/ <
They were SO right.
So Maria Jose. She reminds me of somebody's grandma, just any grandma, with the personality and authoritarian style of a seasoned military general. Her English has a Spanish accent, mixed with German and British. So I'd say she has Spagertish English. To start the class, she introduced me (even though most of the kids already knew my name). One of the kids said I was like Illiana, a girl who was an English assistant last year (which is true, exact same position). Her response: NO!! Illiana left!! She is gone and Chelsea is here now so shut up about Illiana.
Some of the kids were saying "aw, but we liked Illiana, she was so nice".
To which Coronel Nun responded: MY BABIES!!!! I told you. Illiana does not love you. She was offered a position at the school and she did not want to be here with you so she moved to Andalucia to be with her family and not with you. She had every opportunity and by the time she decided she wanted to stay, it was too late. It is not the school's fault. So now she is down there and you have Chelsea now. So shut up about Illiana.
Note: She says "my babies". A lot. Except she screams it and has a decently deeper voice so it comes off very creepy and reminds me a little of Urusula from the Little Mermaid (SING!!) The thing is, in Spanish, most people use pet names a lot like "carino" or "amor"...like dear and love, except couples use it too and it would be like saying "baby". Except she has completely misconstrued the translation and makes the classroom super awkward this way for me...but luckily only I understand how absurd things are.
She actually has created numerous awkward situations in class. And I was only with her for one hour.
She asked the kids what they did over the summer. One kid said "I went to Valencia". She said "what deed jew do in Valencia??" and he said "fui a la playa"...her response: MY BABY!!! I will kill you!! In EENGLEESH!! How you say playa in eeengleesh?" The kid was lost but managed to hear one of his classmates say "beach". So he was like "uhh....b..." And that's when it happened.
Nun: What ees eet??? Playa. Bitch!! Bitch!! Playa is bitch. Bitch!! You went to the bitch, yes?? You went and weent sweeming at the bitch, no??
....I immediately, being the language assistant, jumped in and said "oooh, bEEEEEEEach. EEEEEEEE. Beeeeeeeeeeeeach. Yes."
Nun: BITCH. Yes, bitch, that's what I said. Bitch. Playa. Bitch.
........didn't ever correct it. Just kept yelling 'bitch'. Very clearly.
Once more it's super awkward because only I know that she's yelling obscenities at the kids. Then again, she tells them to shut up every 5 minutes and always says "I weel keel jew eef jew don't shut up!" (I will kill you if you don't shut up!)
But then also screams "MY BABIES!!!! JEW KNOW I LUF YOU BUT JEW ARE KEELING ME!"
Lord. Then after class, because she does not know English very well, she started speaking to me in Spanish. Which is fine but none of the kids are supposed to know I know Spanish and there she is talking to me right in front of them. One of the kids comes up and goes "but Teacher, she doesn't speak Spanish". Her response: "Don't be dumb. Of course she knows Spanish, it's just a secret. Go get back in line. NOW." Then another kid came up and I didn't hear what he told her but her response was "I know, I know, but they still love you now go get back in line!" I looked at her confused and she asked if I heard what he had said. I said no and she was like "oh, he came up and told me his parents are separated. He does it every day, what am I supposed to say? It happens! They still love you but you still have to stand in line like everyone else."
Keep in mind, these were just my first 2 days. And just the cherry on top of everything. Needless to say, I have my hands COMPLETELY full, and it's not even completely due to the students...
Friday, September 17, 2010
Finally, my first real FRIDAY!
Note: If you've been counting the days meticulously and want to argue "no, Chelsea, this is your SECOND Friday because it's been 2 weeks and I have hardly been able to handle life without you" [side note: A girl can dream], a "real" Friday means a Friday where I can relax, not haul my crap around the vast majority of Madrid looking like a fool, and more importantly...siesta!!
The past three days have been MARVELOUS. I think that, in contrast with last week, because everything has been going so smoothly, all the little things that I would usually take for granted seem to be the biggest accomplishments & best news even though they are mundane or awkward, at best haha.
Like my own little coffee shop!!! I swear only a barista (past or present) could appreciate finding your own personal coffee shop where the cute little European girls (or cute little older European women) know you, get excited to see you, and try to make you feel at home.
(P.S. the pictures were taken with my webcam (yes, I was creeping...) so pardon the crap-tastic quality...I'll take some legit ones soon!)
Let me tell you about it! It's called Top Ten, Coffee & Shop (which tells me that it is, in fact European, regardless of it's English name...because I think they just want to say "coffee shop". The fact that the name is in English, without any kind of sense, means it's just super chic :) Anyways, it is less than a block away from my school, so I will be here almost every day. I have a coffee break BUILT IN to my teaching schedule, so I always escape to come here for a little pick-me-up. (Note: More about teaching later BUT I haven't even really STARTED and I'm already completely exhausted. How do teachers do it? Kids are little brats! Especially those who think I speak no Spanish. Falsies!) So there are three workers here that I know (not super well, we're not on a name basis yet). One is super cute & young who asked if I'd prefer to speak in English (due to my blonde hair...surprise) and I told her I didn't mind. She's my favorite because she helped me figure out how to order my cafe con leche so that I could turn it into an iced latte...AND she didn't judge me. (I've found that in Europe, it's sacriledge to ice coffee...or cafe con leche. Unless it's blended in a Frappuccino...or become cold because you put ice cream in it. At Club Mac Dons, you can get cafe con helado, or coffee with ice cream, for 1 euro. And don't judge, it's PHENOMENAL. It's definitely in my Top 10 favorite foods of all time. That good.)
I got off on a tangent somewhere there. Hmmm. Oh yes so my favorite girl is super cute and super sweet and we agreed that day by day we'd speak English & Spanish alternatively. Another girl that works here is younger as well, black, very sassy. She intimidates me but I always take my dishes up to the counter to help them out and try to brown nose my way into coolness with her. She always calls me pet names like "carino" or "amor" and I love it, haha. That's how I know she likes me! The third is this little, completely typical Spaniard who is in and/or about her early fifties. Spanish qualities: lack of regard for personal space, lack of height, lack of regard for personal conversations & personal business, lack of regard for schedules, excess of eye-liner, and profound love and interest for the English language. So basically, I love her. Juliet & I came here our first day after school (keep in mind that was Wednesday...this has all happened so quickly!) and she came upstairs to ask us how we were, what we were doing, where we're from, etc. So we explain we work at the Colegio Maria Inmaculada a few doors down and will be here a lot. She was ecstatic. So the next morning Juliet left earlier than I did to get to school so she could grab coffee, & home girl was like, "where's your friend!?" (That's MEE!!!!) haha. I was so excited. Still am. So then today, when I got here, I came inside and talked to my favorite girl in English for a little bit and before I even saw her, I hear a voice from my armpit saying excitedly, "HI!! HOW ARE YOU TODAY!??" (in Spanish of course) she's sneaky too, and had sniped me from behind the counter when she saw me come in, haha! So I look down and there she was, wide-eyed and so excited as always. So they explained to the other worker who doesn't know me that I'm an English teacher & slowly teaching them English. They all agreed they would get a group together and I could help them learn.
Not to mention that Top Ten is a baller cafe. See pictures above, but they have nice chocolate colored couches, a modern staircase, PAID wi-fi (like they pay for it for their customers...so the signal is reliable unlike Club Mac Dons), nice recliners downstairs, and their color scheme is orange & brown (which seems a little weird but it just makes the place feel like fall...or autumn, as they call it here). They also have a projector by the entrance that projects MTV at all times of the day (with huge speakers that attach to the cafe...so it's kind of like Starbucks, with more modern & upbeat music and a visual as well. Someone should tell Howard)
Basically, I'm in love with this little coffee shop. It's 2 metro stops away from my house, but the bus gets here in 10 minutes and soon enough I'll have my public transportation pass (unlimited) so it would be inconvenient for me to go anywhere else.
And without this important resource, how else would I know that Jersey Shore is premiering here in Spain next tuesday at 22:30?? Like Spain needs more reasons to think America is trashy, haha. Crap.
I also just realized that I didn't write anything about school...and I would now but if I've learned anything from Pi Phi VPM e-mails, nobody voluntarily reads anything that is substantially long so...I'll add that tonight or maybe tomorrow. I don't want people getting bored & stop reading...I'll lose my Internet fame before it even begins!
The past three days have been MARVELOUS. I think that, in contrast with last week, because everything has been going so smoothly, all the little things that I would usually take for granted seem to be the biggest accomplishments & best news even though they are mundane or awkward, at best haha.
Like my own little coffee shop!!! I swear only a barista (past or present) could appreciate finding your own personal coffee shop where the cute little European girls (or cute little older European women) know you, get excited to see you, and try to make you feel at home.
(P.S. the pictures were taken with my webcam (yes, I was creeping...) so pardon the crap-tastic quality...I'll take some legit ones soon!)
Let me tell you about it! It's called Top Ten, Coffee & Shop (which tells me that it is, in fact European, regardless of it's English name...because I think they just want to say "coffee shop". The fact that the name is in English, without any kind of sense, means it's just super chic :) Anyways, it is less than a block away from my school, so I will be here almost every day. I have a coffee break BUILT IN to my teaching schedule, so I always escape to come here for a little pick-me-up. (Note: More about teaching later BUT I haven't even really STARTED and I'm already completely exhausted. How do teachers do it? Kids are little brats! Especially those who think I speak no Spanish. Falsies!) So there are three workers here that I know (not super well, we're not on a name basis yet). One is super cute & young who asked if I'd prefer to speak in English (due to my blonde hair...surprise) and I told her I didn't mind. She's my favorite because she helped me figure out how to order my cafe con leche so that I could turn it into an iced latte...AND she didn't judge me. (I've found that in Europe, it's sacriledge to ice coffee...or cafe con leche. Unless it's blended in a Frappuccino...or become cold because you put ice cream in it. At Club Mac Dons, you can get cafe con helado, or coffee with ice cream, for 1 euro. And don't judge, it's PHENOMENAL. It's definitely in my Top 10 favorite foods of all time. That good.)
I got off on a tangent somewhere there. Hmmm. Oh yes so my favorite girl is super cute and super sweet and we agreed that day by day we'd speak English & Spanish alternatively. Another girl that works here is younger as well, black, very sassy. She intimidates me but I always take my dishes up to the counter to help them out and try to brown nose my way into coolness with her. She always calls me pet names like "carino" or "amor" and I love it, haha. That's how I know she likes me! The third is this little, completely typical Spaniard who is in and/or about her early fifties. Spanish qualities: lack of regard for personal space, lack of height, lack of regard for personal conversations & personal business, lack of regard for schedules, excess of eye-liner, and profound love and interest for the English language. So basically, I love her. Juliet & I came here our first day after school (keep in mind that was Wednesday...this has all happened so quickly!) and she came upstairs to ask us how we were, what we were doing, where we're from, etc. So we explain we work at the Colegio Maria Inmaculada a few doors down and will be here a lot. She was ecstatic. So the next morning Juliet left earlier than I did to get to school so she could grab coffee, & home girl was like, "where's your friend!?" (That's MEE!!!!) haha. I was so excited. Still am. So then today, when I got here, I came inside and talked to my favorite girl in English for a little bit and before I even saw her, I hear a voice from my armpit saying excitedly, "HI!! HOW ARE YOU TODAY!??" (in Spanish of course) she's sneaky too, and had sniped me from behind the counter when she saw me come in, haha! So I look down and there she was, wide-eyed and so excited as always. So they explained to the other worker who doesn't know me that I'm an English teacher & slowly teaching them English. They all agreed they would get a group together and I could help them learn.
Not to mention that Top Ten is a baller cafe. See pictures above, but they have nice chocolate colored couches, a modern staircase, PAID wi-fi (like they pay for it for their customers...so the signal is reliable unlike Club Mac Dons), nice recliners downstairs, and their color scheme is orange & brown (which seems a little weird but it just makes the place feel like fall...or autumn, as they call it here). They also have a projector by the entrance that projects MTV at all times of the day (with huge speakers that attach to the cafe...so it's kind of like Starbucks, with more modern & upbeat music and a visual as well. Someone should tell Howard)
Basically, I'm in love with this little coffee shop. It's 2 metro stops away from my house, but the bus gets here in 10 minutes and soon enough I'll have my public transportation pass (unlimited) so it would be inconvenient for me to go anywhere else.
And without this important resource, how else would I know that Jersey Shore is premiering here in Spain next tuesday at 22:30?? Like Spain needs more reasons to think America is trashy, haha. Crap.
I also just realized that I didn't write anything about school...and I would now but if I've learned anything from Pi Phi VPM e-mails, nobody voluntarily reads anything that is substantially long so...I'll add that tonight or maybe tomorrow. I don't want people getting bored & stop reading...I'll lose my Internet fame before it even begins!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Calm before the storm...
Hola!! Buenas!!
I survived La Noche en Blanco, first and foremost.
I had an itinerary set and places I wanted to see...but in the end my hurt foot (wtf, world??) and the fact that I forgot my map @ home (typical Chelsea) hurt my plans a little bit. Just a little.
BUT nevertheless it was a great night. I went with Katie & Juliet to meet up with Katie's friend Alexa, a super nice girl who was with Christina, a super adorable Spanish girl with BLONDE HAIR. That's right....BLONDE!!! I told her she was the first Spaniard I had ever seen with blonde hair that looked legit and she told me that she was actually born in South Africa, I believe...but either way her Spanish is infinitely better than mine sooo I'm going to call her Spanish. She was wearing booty jean shorts & knee-high leather boots...only looked a little bit like a sloot, but then again we're in Europe & that's fashion for ya.
Anywho we walked to a plaza near by where they had this HUGE beach ball fight (video below and on my Facebook)...down in the middle of the chaos you can see Katie trying to get a volleyball. After she finally got one (silly her threw it back! why???) I decided I'd venture down into the pit and try my luck at catching one. Except I'm picky & annoying so I insisted on getting a blue and white one. Katie went with me and the fight was just what you'd expect.....millions of balls to the face. Lots and lots of balls to the face. And arm. And shoving. And more beach balls getting spiked into your nose. THEN when you finally get one all the crazies around you look PIIIIISSED because they were hoping to help you hit it back in a wild frenzy.
Good news, though, America....I GOT ONE!! Blue & white, just like I wanted. :) All thanks to Katie...I keep volleyball playing roommates around for these reasons ;)
Anyways Christina really wanted to see the botanical gardens so Juliet and I just started walking around and barhopped for a little bit, grabbing mojitos here, some sangria there...fabulous time! Best mojito I've had in my entire life, by the way. And I've had PF Chang's pear mojito...mmm. Oh dang, now I want Chinese. The only thing that Chinese people sell here, by the way, are random knickknacks and really cheap garage sale B.S. Seriously. I'm not complaining, though, because I bought 4 different outlet converters for 90 cents a piece. Thank you, Chinos!!!
I keep getting side-tracked about Noche en Blanco...end result is that the Butler kids were super dumb (sorry Billy/Kyle if you're reading this!!!) and came to Madrid at 6:30 (even though everything started at 10 p.m.) so they ended up leaving early. :( sad. Other than the beachball fight, though, they closed down one of the main streets to build a MASSIVE swing set as well as a tire swing (the theme this year was "Haga Juego"...or play games. So. Lots of random fun) (p.s. pictures above). ALSO Limp Bizkit was in town!! hahahaha...too bad we missed out. We didn't get home until 4:30 a.m. Then I slept until 5 the next day. It was so perfect (except for the fact that my twin sized bed is slightly...soft...and might eat me one of these nights. I will need to get used to that)
Speaking of apartments, ours is going awesomely! We signed our contract last night and our landlords are super sweet old people. Like I mentioned, my bed situation leaves something to be desired but I don't have many other complaints. In our complex you can here EVERYTHING going on with any given neighbor and one of the old dudes downstairs might be dying. Every night when we talk a little too loud he wakes up and sounds like he's coughing up an important part of his internal organs. I might take one of my mucinex pills and pop it in his mailbox. Feliz Navidad, senor! Oh, I don't know how to cook. That's been a problem. I went to the grocery yesterday and realized while staring at the meat aisle that I don't actually know how to cook meat. Oops. I bought 6 little baby chicken breasts, though, and didn't *exactly* burn them today for lunch so I'm feeling like Paula Dean right now!! (except Spain doesn't have butter...so maybe I'm Rachel Ray. BAM!) Baby steps to growing up...baby steps.
That being said I made a hot dog for dinner. So. 2 steps forward, 1 back.
We also started classes today...it takes an hour on the metro to get there. A little frustrating, only because with that much time sitting still I want to fall asleep, but would then miss the Metro stop. I don't want them thinking I'm a hobo & end up waking up in Spain jail. And would have also, therefore, missed class. I have two classes right now, Spanish in America and Teaching Methodology. Spanish in America is a piece of cake because it's a Spanish class. Teaching Methodology, however, is going to kick my ass a little. While I am quite creative and have been told many times "you should be a teacher", I think that was a false statement. Teaching english here is going to be intense. Not only do we teach English, but the Spanish goverment has started a program where they teach content courses (such as science, art, etc.) in English. So kids learn English, then go to science and speak English as well. So I'm going to be researching all sorts of subjects, hahaha. We'll soon find out if I'm smarter than a 5th grader...
Anyways it's getting late and I'm getting anxious for tomorrow...so...I'll let y'all know how it goes!! Hasta pronto, amores! :)
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Home, sweet home @ 28 Don Quijote
Hi all!!
As I write today, I have officially slept 2 nights at the new apartment.
The address?? If you haven't seen on Facebook, my address is Don Quijote Street. Hilarious right?! If you want the whole legit address, check Facebook or just comment below with your name and I will send it to you! I'd LOVE to start getting snail mail and potentially prezzies?? Potentially Halloween prezzies?! :D heh.
SO let's see...what has happened now!? Apartment hunting was so awful and stressful. Katie & Juliet are my roommates and they are fantastic. Katie is from Tennessee with a cute little accent and Juliet is from San Francisco. We got online to hunt for apartments (which seemed easy at first) but whenever we would call to look for appointments to go see them, we would find millions of reasons why it wouldn't work. For some apartments, they weren't even available anymore. Others we called wouldn't let us move in until October (homeless til then?? No thanks!!) Some were really really small once we saw them, and others wanted up to 3 months rent for a DEPOSIT, plus the current month's rent. Who does that?!
The best one, though, was this guy we called and told him "Hi, we saw your add and wanted to know if we could see the apartment." Here are the questions he asked: "Where did you see the ad? What street was it on? What number? Where was it again? Who are you?" I'm convinced that homeboy here got drunk one night and put his apartment up for sale on idealista.com. He had no idea what we were talking about. Needless to say we didn't go through him.
Every piso we would find was up and down because it looked so perfect online but then was located in BFE, or Murdertown, or Urineville...all random places that were far away from metros & our school. Finally we agreed to live on Don Quijote, which is a 3 bedroom apartment, one bathroom, huge terrace, and cute neighborhood. It's also like 5 minutes walking from the main street & a major metro stop.
On the other hand, I think I have learned something here. The only time, thus far, that I have been approached & majorly attacked by European men is when I was walking home from the market with 15 pounds of cleaning supplies. THAT, my friends, is when men really kick it in into high gear around here. She's domestic?!? "Hola, baby, jew are so bee-you-tee-ful..." Oh, and then yesterday I went to try to buy a hair dryer and this old man, about 65 years old, started reciting poetry about my blonde hair. 3 different poems. I tried to say thank you and turn around but SURPRISE! he had one more.
Who does that?! My roommie Juliet said that was cute & he was trying to be nice. Maybe I'll learn a lot here after all, haha.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Chelsea Recently is recently no longer homeless!!
Aaaaaaaaaand now that I'm no longer homeless I can finally take a second to breathe, reflect on my first 4 days in Spain, and realize that holy crap, it's only been four days, and it feels like an eternity because so much has happened, haha. Ooooooooh geez.
Let's see. Day 1: I wrote a little bit about my journey on the airplanes and such but honestly couldn't write too much because I kept crying like a little b-i-t-c-h. I felt like an idiot! Okay so after my incredibly uncomfortable flight next to Little Miss High Maintenance on the plane (an undergrad student from South Carolina studying in Sevilla [which she kept calling Seville...I don't know if she'll make it] who was yapping away on her phone about money problems while wearing a massive Coach hat with a matching Coach tote that could have housed a small African village...como se dice hypocrit in Spanish?? Also, she refused to turn off her phone when the sign came on. I was convinced she was going to be the certain demise of the entire air bus.) Anyways, she asked me for my name so she could add me on Facebook but I accidentally *cough* jetted away with my carry-ons and got the hell out of dodge.
Then it began.
The crying.
The incessant crying.
I couldn't find my bags because there were so many people. So instead I went to change my currency to euros that Jeri had given me...and then I thought about how nice it was of Jeri to give me so much money for "cushion" and I started crying again. So I tried to get myself together enough to go ask for euros. Then I cried again because I realized that I don't know enough Spanish to ask for change. Then I realized that was a lie and got over it. At this point I had euros, $8, and really red eyes. I hoped that nobody could tell at the airport because I was wearing glasses but in hindsight that was a little overzealous. Everyone at the airport was Spanish, pretty much, or meeting people at the airport so everyone was ecstatic to go through the gate. I, on the otherhand, wanted to die...or rewind and go home. Both actually.
I had made plans before this with my new roommate Katie to meet at the Starbucks at Barajas. Online it said there was a Starbucks. So I walk up and down the airport....no Starbucks. What the hell. So I ask information and they curtly tell me that there is no Starbucks anywhere. I found a map, it said there was a Starbucks. I was hoping it was like Platform 9 & 3/4 where I could just run into a blank wall and find it but...once again, nothing is how you expect it to be in Spain. It just isn't. So finally I realize that Starbucks is in Terminal 4. I was in Terminal 1 & 2. There was no way to get to the Starbucks. This wouldn't be so frightening if it hadn't been for the fact that a.) Katie knew Josh, who lived in Madrid, who said I could stay with them for the first few days while looking for apartments. b.) I didn't know Josh, and was planning on going over there with Katie because c.) I have no idea where Josh lives. d.) There is no wi-fi or power outlets in the Barajas airport. Aka no way to get ahold of Katie.
So there I am. Lost, homeless, and panicking at Barajas. I finally gather enough courage to go to the bathroom and find a stall big enough for my luggage cart & all my crap. It was handicapped and also properly equipped for needles (lucky me...) So I shut the door, lock it twice, and start bawling uncontrollably in the needle stall. Oddly enough there was a power outlet in there so while sobbing I plug my computer in and try to start it up anyways. To add to my problems, it wouldn't start. 5,000,000 miles in the air, my computer was hijacked and decided to not work at all. I called Jeri, even though it was approximately 2 a.m. in the United States, and almost started crying again when she answered the phone. After everything we decided that it'd be best to wait at the terminal for Katie, because I'd seen pictures on Facebook of her and she had long, blonde, curly hair and was 6 foot tall. That'd be EASY to find in Spain. I felt a little better.
I was unaware that before she came she cut her hair. All of it, actually.
Needless to say I didn't find Katie at the airport.
In the end, I couldn't find a cheap hotel & taxis freak me out so I hauled my 2 50lb bags on the bus to one bus stop, Johnny-rigged my carry-on bag to one of the suitcases, and schlepped all my crap to the transfer bus stop (finally a kind local helped me drag them because it was unbearable for one person....and she lectured me for 15 minutes about carrying my purse in front of me.)
I ended up in Alcala, an hour away from Madrid, with my old host family, who luckily has been kind enough to let me stay here while apartment hunting (details of that massive emotional roller-coaster to come later, haha). After sleeping FOREVER, I went out to meet up with Billy & got sangria with Kyle....awkwardly hysterically crying again once I saw Kyle in the Plaza de Cervantes...and again later at the Media Pinta in public. Note to self: buy Kyle a prezzie for embarrassing him in public so much.
En fin, this has been my life in Spain thus far. I'm currently watching Disney (some Spanish tv show) and secretly (or not so secretly) hoping that the Wizards of Waverly Place comes on.
I think that's all I've got for now...tomorrow I move into my piso after our first orientation meeting! P.S. I have the most badass address ever...stay tuned as to what it is :)
Love,
Chelsea Recently. (who has stopped crying :)
Let's see. Day 1: I wrote a little bit about my journey on the airplanes and such but honestly couldn't write too much because I kept crying like a little b-i-t-c-h. I felt like an idiot! Okay so after my incredibly uncomfortable flight next to Little Miss High Maintenance on the plane (an undergrad student from South Carolina studying in Sevilla [which she kept calling Seville...I don't know if she'll make it] who was yapping away on her phone about money problems while wearing a massive Coach hat with a matching Coach tote that could have housed a small African village...como se dice hypocrit in Spanish?? Also, she refused to turn off her phone when the sign came on. I was convinced she was going to be the certain demise of the entire air bus.) Anyways, she asked me for my name so she could add me on Facebook but I accidentally *cough* jetted away with my carry-ons and got the hell out of dodge.
Then it began.
The crying.
The incessant crying.
I couldn't find my bags because there were so many people. So instead I went to change my currency to euros that Jeri had given me...and then I thought about how nice it was of Jeri to give me so much money for "cushion" and I started crying again. So I tried to get myself together enough to go ask for euros. Then I cried again because I realized that I don't know enough Spanish to ask for change. Then I realized that was a lie and got over it. At this point I had euros, $8, and really red eyes. I hoped that nobody could tell at the airport because I was wearing glasses but in hindsight that was a little overzealous. Everyone at the airport was Spanish, pretty much, or meeting people at the airport so everyone was ecstatic to go through the gate. I, on the otherhand, wanted to die...or rewind and go home. Both actually.
I had made plans before this with my new roommate Katie to meet at the Starbucks at Barajas. Online it said there was a Starbucks. So I walk up and down the airport....no Starbucks. What the hell. So I ask information and they curtly tell me that there is no Starbucks anywhere. I found a map, it said there was a Starbucks. I was hoping it was like Platform 9 & 3/4 where I could just run into a blank wall and find it but...once again, nothing is how you expect it to be in Spain. It just isn't. So finally I realize that Starbucks is in Terminal 4. I was in Terminal 1 & 2. There was no way to get to the Starbucks. This wouldn't be so frightening if it hadn't been for the fact that a.) Katie knew Josh, who lived in Madrid, who said I could stay with them for the first few days while looking for apartments. b.) I didn't know Josh, and was planning on going over there with Katie because c.) I have no idea where Josh lives. d.) There is no wi-fi or power outlets in the Barajas airport. Aka no way to get ahold of Katie.
So there I am. Lost, homeless, and panicking at Barajas. I finally gather enough courage to go to the bathroom and find a stall big enough for my luggage cart & all my crap. It was handicapped and also properly equipped for needles (lucky me...) So I shut the door, lock it twice, and start bawling uncontrollably in the needle stall. Oddly enough there was a power outlet in there so while sobbing I plug my computer in and try to start it up anyways. To add to my problems, it wouldn't start. 5,000,000 miles in the air, my computer was hijacked and decided to not work at all. I called Jeri, even though it was approximately 2 a.m. in the United States, and almost started crying again when she answered the phone. After everything we decided that it'd be best to wait at the terminal for Katie, because I'd seen pictures on Facebook of her and she had long, blonde, curly hair and was 6 foot tall. That'd be EASY to find in Spain. I felt a little better.
I was unaware that before she came she cut her hair. All of it, actually.
Needless to say I didn't find Katie at the airport.
In the end, I couldn't find a cheap hotel & taxis freak me out so I hauled my 2 50lb bags on the bus to one bus stop, Johnny-rigged my carry-on bag to one of the suitcases, and schlepped all my crap to the transfer bus stop (finally a kind local helped me drag them because it was unbearable for one person....and she lectured me for 15 minutes about carrying my purse in front of me.)
I ended up in Alcala, an hour away from Madrid, with my old host family, who luckily has been kind enough to let me stay here while apartment hunting (details of that massive emotional roller-coaster to come later, haha). After sleeping FOREVER, I went out to meet up with Billy & got sangria with Kyle....awkwardly hysterically crying again once I saw Kyle in the Plaza de Cervantes...and again later at the Media Pinta in public. Note to self: buy Kyle a prezzie for embarrassing him in public so much.
En fin, this has been my life in Spain thus far. I'm currently watching Disney (some Spanish tv show) and secretly (or not so secretly) hoping that the Wizards of Waverly Place comes on.
I think that's all I've got for now...tomorrow I move into my piso after our first orientation meeting! P.S. I have the most badass address ever...stay tuned as to what it is :)
Love,
Chelsea Recently. (who has stopped crying :)
Monday, September 6, 2010
Procrastination is no longer my favorite virtue
Here's a bajillion reasons why:
#1. Ask me when I finished packing...Sunday morning at 12:20 p.m. My flight left at 3:12 p.m. Horrible. Aaaaaaaaaaaaand my bags were overweight as well. Enjoy your bonuses, US Airways!
#2. While thinking of Spain, I imagined the time I was here last time and got really excited. This is not all bad, except for the part when I forgot to remember to deal with the fact that I'm here for a year.. A YEAH!! Ugh it's awful! I've been crying since the Indianapolis Airport (and for that I blame Kiely & Levin, because I was dominating with my pokerface.
#3. Peeing. 8 hour flight to Madrid, didn't pee ONCE. Champion!!
#4. Homelessness. Currently without an apartment and currently not really interested in finding one, hahaha. I'm sure this will get better tomorrow. Picture this: Chelsea, sitting of floor of the Barajas airport, strattling her Vera Bradley purse-bag, leaning up against all three of my suitcases tetering on the trolly, slowly fading in and out of consciousness. And Spanish people blatantly staring at me while judging me and pointing to their families. I SPEAK SPANISH, thanks. Geez.
I'm actually passing out while I write this soooo.........maybe next time I'll add pictures or better stories.
#1. Ask me when I finished packing...Sunday morning at 12:20 p.m. My flight left at 3:12 p.m. Horrible. Aaaaaaaaaaaaand my bags were overweight as well. Enjoy your bonuses, US Airways!
#2. While thinking of Spain, I imagined the time I was here last time and got really excited. This is not all bad, except for the part when I forgot to remember to deal with the fact that I'm here for a year.. A YEAH!! Ugh it's awful! I've been crying since the Indianapolis Airport (and for that I blame Kiely & Levin, because I was dominating with my pokerface.
#3. Peeing. 8 hour flight to Madrid, didn't pee ONCE. Champion!!
#4. Homelessness. Currently without an apartment and currently not really interested in finding one, hahaha. I'm sure this will get better tomorrow. Picture this: Chelsea, sitting of floor of the Barajas airport, strattling her Vera Bradley purse-bag, leaning up against all three of my suitcases tetering on the trolly, slowly fading in and out of consciousness. And Spanish people blatantly staring at me while judging me and pointing to their families. I SPEAK SPANISH, thanks. Geez.
I'm actually passing out while I write this soooo.........maybe next time I'll add pictures or better stories.
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