The Rest of the Story

It's only 84 degrees outside right now but it feels like Hell is slowly opening its gate and letting out all of his damned heat (haha, punny) in Madrid. I know it's hotter in America but very few places believe in air conditioning here, especially in apartments. It's so non-existent that certain stores boast "cool air" by using hand-crafted signs Scotch-taped to their windows. That freakin hot. School is unbearable, my kids don't stop telling me I'm sweating (trust me, I know I'm sweating, it's hot as hell in here) which makes me self conscious, which makes me sweat even more...luckily (knock on wood) I'm not a smelly sweaty person. Just damp. It feels like menopause on steroids (I assume). When I get home, I literally strip off all of my clothes (cept my undies) and lay in bed praying for a breeze to roll through. I also sleep like that, despite the fact that all of the neighbors walking by can see me. It's. That. Hot.

That leads to a funny story. About this morning (are you proud of me?? I'm blogging only hours after a major event!) It's about my roommates but they're all slowly leaving so hopefully by the time they would possibly read this, it will be a funny memory. Katie's friend DJ is visiting, who is a total sweetheart, and Juliet & Carissa, the other two roommates from California, are done with their schools. Carissa leaves for San Diego tonight, so ever since the weekend she's been partying and enjoying Madrid to the max. Juliet finally got told by our school she could finish early, so she has also taken advantage. Katie and I still have work til Friday, but I'm not mad about it because I would feel guilty if I didn't go...my kids are having Post Pardom Depression already and I've not even left. I still need a lot of sleep and energy for those little guys though. Which is difficult when the roommies are in 110%  party mode (understandably). The only problem is that it's so stupidly hot that I have to sleep with my door open to get a breeze to come through (who knew Madrid would also teach me basic physics...har har har). This causes problems because a.) I now sleep ass naked because of the heat and b.) the walls are made of newspapers, practically, so I can hear every whisper, laugh, cackle, and glass-shattering. I haven't been sleeping very well because of all of it but that's not the only repercussion.

Last night was no exception to my new routine. I had warned everybody in the apartment, though, about my butt-nakedness so I figured I was safe enough and in an "Enter at Your Own Risk" type of situation. I was the only one home last night because there was a great drink special downtown, but I finally fell asleep around 1 a.m. Some people came home at about 3, I'd guess, and maybe another few around 4? Not positive. However I think everybody was a little warm from the cheap beer and there might have been a tiff because I heard numerous slammings of doors and a lot of people were sleeping in the hallway (which is super unusual because we usually have space with the beds). Around 7 a.m., right before I was supposed to get up to shower, one of my roommates barges in my room (I mean the door was open but I think she was still a little bit drunk), and literally dives into a 3-inch space between me and my wall, prying us apart with her arms like the wall and I were going to get into a fight. I was startled, asking, "what's going on? What do you need?" with no answers, just frustrated strugglings trying to shove me off my bed. I was really confused, wondering why she was trying to sleep with me...until I realized that she wasn't trying to sleep with me, she was trying to sleep in my bed without me (not that sleeping with me is really an option...my bed might be half the size of a normal twin-sized bed...you have to REALLY cuddle to manage it). I realized this after I got shoved off the bed. I'd also like to remind you that I was au naturale at that point, so I was also severely struggling to cover my basic assets and stop her from fondling me accidentally. I'm not so sure I was successful at that because I sort of have a lot of assets. I can't wait to come home and tell sober-her how she tried to get to second base with me this morning. Happy Hump Day? (can I get a humourous rimshot?)

Despite the blessed heat, I thought today would be a good day to play soccer with my 3rd graders. It was a piss-poor idea all the way around. For one, it's disgustingly hot. Two, I wore a skirt and sandals (shocking, I know) which aren't conducive to an intense soccer game, and third my hair was down so it was simultaneously acting as my own personal heating system. Not to mention we played with an inflatable Sponge Bob ball and Spaniards are embarrassingly competitive at the sport (rightfully so but...never challenge a Spanish male of any age to a "friendly" game of soccer. It's as smart as challenging Paula Deen to a butter-eating challenge. You know she's gonna win because she's had so much more practice and experience). I learned so many lessons today and it's only 2 p.m.

I should digress, though, and finish my story about the Glorified Shit Show, aka Excursion, aka Field Trip. There eventually was room on the bus for me (as poorly organized as it was), and so we climbed in and were off (only an hour late)! Did I describe the buses? There are two things that Spaniards do not take lightly...chartered buses, and baby strollers. Madrid, being a city and all, doesn't have school buses. So, for adventures further away, they rent chartered buses...but these chartered buses are like the crème de la crème of buses. They should be reserved for royalty. There are velvety curtains on every window, proper emergency escape hammers (which is a miracle in this city...I've YET to see any of those damned hammers on a public bus. On long bus rides I often visualize what type of accident we will be in and if I would have the guts to throw my elbow hard enough into the window to bust it open to escape...or what article of clothes I am wearing that I can use to protect my hands from the broken glass, you know, like they do in the movies), air conditioning, personal fans and lights, assistance buttons, televisions, a restroom, and the seats are made of down feathers, it seemed. They're so luxurious! Baby strollers are the exact same thing. My teachers told me a stroller here goes for over 1,000 euros usually and even the shittiest of the shittiest strollers here are fit for royalty. The wheels have chrome plating, built in protection from sun and rain (both removable), 9,000 pockets for diapers, bottles, formula, the baby's college tuition..., a compact design so that it can be lowered immediately to go up and down stairs and fit into public transportation immediately (all while the baby is still quietly sleeping), cup holders for the mom's water/drinks, the wheels have a 360 degree turn radius for when you just don't have all that time to pull a U-ey on the busy sidewalks, built in changing table...the strollers here will do everything except fly, and even that might be debatable with the newer models. It makes me chuckle that THAT is what Spain has decided to be the best at. Strollers.

Now, I'm getting older so my memory is failing me, but I feel like in America, on the bus for a field trip, you sat with your BFF, gossipped about boys or pogs or My Little Ponies, or just talked about where you were going. In Spain it's quite different. First of all, they sang three songs, continually, for the entire hour-long bus ride. And I don't mean they sang one, then another, and cycled through them....no, that would be more enjoyable. Instead, they sang one song for 20 minutes, the next song for 20, and then the last one until we got there. Continually. What three songs was I graced with learning?

1.) Quien se ha hecho pis en el saco de dormir? This song is very similar to "Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar? Chelsea stole the cookie from the cookie jar! Who me? Yes you! Couldn't be! Then who? Except....in Spanish it's "who pissed in the sleeping bag?" Classy, right? I was completely taken off guard, because I was talking to the teachers, excited to be enjoying a day off, when they start yelling CHELSEA!! CHELSEA PEED IN THE SLEEPING BAG!! I thought they'd lost their damn minds. And they kept yelling it. I was embarrased and super confused. Then finally one of the teachers was like "oh you have to say 'who me?' and then 'not me!'....then just choose a kid." I caught on quickly but when you're not expecting somebody to accuse you of peeing in awkward places, it comes as a bit of a shock. That lasted approximately 22 minutes.

2.) Waka Waka: Thanks, Shakira, for bestowing me with the worst headache I've ever had. The Waka Waka song, in both English and Spanish, is annoying all the way around, because a.) Spaniards associate it with their World Cup win (which therefore ellicits chaotic screaming and cheering for atleast five minutes) and b.) nobody knows any of the other words except for the 10 African words followed by "cause this is Africa". I listened to the chorus 85 times, atleast. And the kids did not get bored. Ever. Each time was like somebody had just had the best idea ever, to sing Waka Waka! Again!!!

3. Soccer cat-calls: Now...while wildy inappropriate, I will admit that this, the first 3 times around, made me chuckle. Spaniards take their sports intensity to the next level. When it comes to your favorite soccer team, it says more about you than anything else (such as education, talents, literacy...nothing compares to your favorite soccer team). Therefore, it becomes important to create really elaborate chants that put down and insult the opposing rival teams. There are three main teams in Spain/Madrid: Real Madrid (my favorite), Barcelona, and Atletico de Madrid. In the city, Real Madrid and Atletico are rivals but Barcelona is a strong rival as well. For example, Barcelona played Manchester United in the league championship (and won, because they're an all-star team). All of Madrid was cheering against Barcelona and for Manchester, even though Barcelona is part of their country. It's a bad rivalry. Worse than the Colts and the Patriots. Anyways the kids on the bus started yelling this lovely chant:

Chupa, chupa regaliz
A la mierda, Real Madrid!

Basically it says "suck, suck, licorice, go to hell Real Madrid". Except mierda means shit but apparently nobody considers that profanity here. I don't mind using the word shit (...clearly) but hearing it come from a 7 year old's mouth is appalling. They kept shouting that a few times until somebody got clever, or just realized what was being said, and retaliated:

Oh no, era broma
A la mierda, Barcelona!

Translation: oh no, that's a joke, go to hell Barcelona!

Still...so classy.

After enduring all of that on the bus, we finally arrived to the park. This park was basically a huge national forest with a few built in soccer fields, sprinklers, and a small playground. I would like to reiterate that there was no official way to keep track of all of the students, just hope they all stayed together. Also, the buses simply dropped us off. If one of the kids got hurt, they were just supposed to call 911 and wait until an ambulance came...logistically, all of the things that could have gone wrong and all of the leaps of faith they took make my head hurt.

Here's a link to some pictures of the park, to give you a small idea:

Anyways as soon as we find our own little place in the park the kids ran wild. Within five minutes, ten kids were crying, bleeding, or throwing up. The park was very nice, so it had a lot of toys that little city parks don't have, such as a merry-go-round thing, or teeter totters, etc. Most of the boys ran to the soccer fields (constructed on concrete....not in the grass. Guess how well that went...) and the rest played on the playground. The teachers immediately found a picnic table and started setting up bags upon bags upon bags of chips, candy, and other miscellaneous food and drinks. They had a great time, just let the kids play while they gossiped and relaxed. They truly deserved it though, haha. I hung out for awhile and then decided to go walk around...so I showed a couple of girls how to make flower bracelets (and literally felt like I was 11 years old again)...but then that turned into twenty kids wanting a flower bracelet/crown/necklace....they didn't understand the whole "teach a man how to fish" approach. Instead it was "Chelsea do this for me!!" Then Miguel, the cute one from the last blog with the hilarious mustache, wanted to go for a walk outside of our little camp area. I told him I didn't think the teachers would let us, we should stay in the area. 30 seconds later he had run and asked the teachers if he could go on a walk with me and they said yes to get him out of their hair.

Dangit.

So he grabs my hand and starts pulling me to a rose garden nearby. On the way to the rose garden, located 20 feet away from our area, we ended up with twenty other students who also wanted to go on a walk. I told them in Spanish that they HAD to stay with me and do as I said, or we were going to immediately turn around and walk three feet back to our invisible boundaries. First graders are so hilarious...and so creative. Their imaginations are these incredible little machines that come up with the most incredible and incredulous bullshit....but the best part is that they believe it. It's kind of magical, in a way. For example they found this hole in the ground and started making up this whole story about how a venomous lizard lived there and he was the only one of his species. Then they found a dead bird and were super enamored with that for awhile...which, gross, whatever....fine...until they picked it up and tried to show me where he had been half-eaten by a poisonous spider. DISGUSTING. Jeri always told me I would bring her daddy-long-legs and say, "look Mom, look!" as she tried not suppress her horror...I feel like I experienced that, times fifty. Plus I couldn't quite express my sever disgust in Spanish the way I would have liked to. This little adventure led to a two hour stalking session, with all of these kids following me everywhere I went. They wanted to explore, they wanted to play games....but eventually all they did was follow me around. I tried to pull the "oh I'm hungry, I'll be right back!" card but even that turned into an adventure with our little group because they wanted to have a picnic and pretend like they were camping...so we designated a little area and all ate together. Meanwhile the teachers kept sending different people over to take picture of us and were making fun of my fan club. It's hard being so loved. In the end we had about 5 kids throw up, 15 kids with cuts/bruises, and 3 dead animals discovered due to "venomous insects".

At the end of the day I was exhausted. I also had borrowed Juliet's shoes, that were wearing out, so they gave me a huge blister on my heel. We got back to school and there was still an hour left, so the kids were told to play on the patio. The 2nd grade boys were playing soccer, so I decided it would be in my best interest to gain their respect by asserting myself in their game and showing them how good I am. It was quite successful with a couple of setbacks. First of all...it was really hot and when I run alot my face turns to a nice shade of magenta. All of the teachers thought I was dying. "Sorry, my face is just like this" in Spanish sounds even dumber than it does in English. Also...once the kids saw that I was really good at soccer they were not only super impressed, but also wanted to play. This led to 75% of the kids from the field trip playing. I was excited that it brought everyone together but the 2nd grade boys and I had developed a pretty strong rivalry whilst playing, so it got intense. A few good men were nailed in the face with a real soccer ball...I definitely plowed a few of them to the ground...and all of the teachers stood in the shade amazed I played so well but also confused as to why I was wasting so much energy playing with the kids. I'm not sure if my 30 minutes of glory were worth the 3 hours of pain that followed, taking into consideration the quarter-sized blister I already had on my heel and the fact that I'm severely out of shape, not having hard-core worked out in a few months. Nevertheless, I slept wonderfully that night and learned to hate my 2nd graders a little bit less.

Last weekend, Kiely, Katie, and I adventured to Valencia. Nothing super absurd happened to blog about, but I will report on it soon. TTFN :)

The most Spanish thing I've ever seen, and the glorified shit show (otherwise known as a Spanish field trip)

It's been awhile...again...so so sorry. I just wrote all the absurd things I need to blog about...and I realized it's been a really really long time...ugh.

Anyways...I'll start at the beginning, I guess. San Isidro. To explain this holiday in a detailed manner, I'd have to show you pictures (see below). To explain without pictures, all I can say I have learned about it is that a.) it might be Madrid's Patron Saint holiday (maybe...not positive), b.) some schools got a day off school (unfair...mine didn't), but most importantly c.) I got time away from one of my horrid 2nd grade classes so really I can't complain. To give you the short explanation...it's like every bizarre Spanish sterotype ever heard mixed with a Russian roulette-style pastry assortment. Seriously look at this food setup (keep in mind this is just for 1st and 2nd grade & the chubbster kids had already attacked it before I arrived)

Okay so it's not that impressive but the kids had gotten ahold of most of it. Basically each student brought one item of "San Isidro" pastries (most were like donuts) and each one looked delicious...but after you tried one, it was too dry, or awkwardly tasted like licorice, or didn't have any taste at all. Some were okay, though. Each student wanted me to try one of whatever they brought, too, so it was like an endless nightmare of dry, tasteless, bread.

Anyways...(p.s. I say anyways a lot here don't I?...maybe that can be my catchphrase and/or book title if I ever sell out & publish [read: Oprah discovers me or something equally miraculous and I pursue a lifestyle and career I never dreamt of but immediately fall in love with....it could happen])

So...anyways...

I took this lovely aerial shot of the chaos and hurried downstairs so I didn't miss anything good or crazy.

I arrived just in time. As soon as I left the doorstep I was was flooded with ten panic-stricken girls who needed me to tie their scarves on their head again, or pin their flowers in their hair. I thought what the hell, can't be that hard...so I start tying scarf after scarf after scarf. If you ask me, they all looked like little babushkas.

Total babushka.

After the scarves I started with the flowers...each girl had 8 bobby pins for her flower which I didn't understand. I tucked the red/white/pink rose by their ear and tried to utilize all 87 bobby pins, so proud of myself for jumping head-first into Spanish culture & winning! Finally I get to the last girl in line, one of my cute, well-tempered 1st graders. I put her flower in, finally get the last bobby pin in, smile, and say "done! Beautiful!" She felt it, to make sure it was sturdy, and screamed one decibal below "total bloody murder" while ripping out all 901 bobby pins at once, including the fake rose, a clump of hair, and some skin particles that used to be attached to the loose hair strands. "IT DOESN'T GO THERE!!!! IT GOES HERE!!" she squealed as she adamantly pointed to her forehead-ish area. I said, "here?" as I tried to move it back an inch so it was cute and didn't resemble a rhinoceros' horn. "NOOOOOOOOO!! HERE!!" pointing to the horn locale, still. She looked at me with this face of disbelief (that I didn't get it), disapproval (for making her look so "ridiculous"...) and aggravation for not catching on despite her subtle hints, waving the stupid rose and smashing it on her forehead like she wanted it.

In the end I said fine and 786 bobby pinned the horn to Triceratops' head. As she walked away, finally approving of my shoddy Spanish flower work, I realized THAT'S why there's so many damned bobby pins....creating a floral horn is against God's intent for hair and the human head.

As a side note, I saw a flamenco poster last week. Turns out Triceratops was right. Still doesn't look any less stupid though....even on a professional dinosaur-- er, dancer.

After that crazy Friday we had one normal week and then a field trip...otherwise known as an "excursion"...personally I find excursion more fitting, because field trip sounds so tame. However, the appropriate term I'd give it in English would be "glorified shit show." From the very beginning to the very end...complete chaos.

So...before this shenanigan even began, I was not actually told that I was going. I asked what I was supposed to do (3 of my classes were going on one field trip, 1 class was going on a different one, and the last class was staying at school). I asked my teacher, Isabel, and she said just ask the principal if I could go. I asked the principal, Manoli, and she said I could do whatever I wanted, just to tell the other teachers so they knew. I asked her what I should do to confirm my place on the buses or whatever, and she told me to talk to Isabel. Who then told me to ask Manoli. Hello, Spain. Somebody was in charge of the buses...somebody had to order them and knew who was going and how many spots were available. Nobody knew who that person was. Apparently my school is like Hogwarts where magical buses just show up when they're needed. Whatever. This is Spain, which means you probably have to order the buses three separate times just to confirm, and then they will probably show up within the same week you ordered...probably.

I asked like five times, to numerous people going, and the teachers were like "ehh...there should be room. If not, we'll punish someone and you'll go! No worries!"

That brings me to the second hilarious part about the field trip. It was for 1st cycle of Primary, which means 1st (yay!!!!!!!) and 2nd (shotgun to the face) graders. I know I've explained my dislike for my 2nd graders but I'm not sure I've explained that it's not just me. All of the teachers feel the same way. Which makes me feel better. A lot better. They think they're just a bad batch. I feel like that's highly unlikely, that 75 children born in the same year are all miscreants...but...on the other hand I'm relieved. I was afraid my little angel babies in 1st grade would mutate over the summer and break my heart in the Fall.

Anyways the teachers were trying really hard to punish the six main troublemakers of 2nd grade. Four had already committed enough offenses to be banned from field trips for the rest of their lives, and the remaining two were hanging on by a thread. It was Wednesday, and the classes were on a point system. Each student had 10 points, and if they misbehaved or didn't turn in their homework, etc., they lost a point. If they lost all of their points, no field trip. Ruben was down to one point left, and Josue had two. They were so sure that within two days time they could wash their hands of them on the excursion but they were also giddy about me & the space issue so they would have a safety net, so to speak.

After experiencing the field trip, I understand why they were so eager to sift out the bad seeds ahead of time. Let's do some math:

7 teachers

150 students

0 parental chaperones

1 giant ass park the size of a small city

0 safety waivers

0 buses after they dropped us off

2 bathrooms (1 boy, 1 girl)

+ 0 rolls of toilet paper

______________________________

total chaos

The school rented two charter buses and one small bus (which, p.s. was suuuuuuuuuuuper nice!! So much better than dinky yellow school buses). The kids got dropped off at school and waited in line (all wearing absurd baseball caps just because they could, and Spaniards don't believe in sunscreen. Sunscreen here costs 10 euros for one bottle of SPF 30. That's like $15.) It took us an hour to simply leave, and 30 mintues of that was just getting on the bus. Most of the time was making sure all of the kids were accounted for. There's no method for counting, just simply remembering who was in each class.......ABSURD. No rosters. No class numbers. Just memory.

Anyways, when the students finally got their lunches and were sort of organized (I use that term loosely), we left through the nuns' back door to get on the buses. I climbed the stairs, trying to keep all of the children with the group and not off wandering the streets of Madrid, when I saw it. It was horrifying. All of the mothers had dropped the kids off at the front door, and then flooded to the side door to create a human tunnel (sort of) for the students. Except it wasn't to high five them and say good luck...it was to kiss them goodbye, and hug them, and give them extra jackets (even though it was 75 outside), and give them more food...it was so...I just have no words. Actually I do have words.

CUT. THE. UMBILICAL. CHORD.

Spanish parents are the WORST. On some level, I enjoy them because they all walk their kids to school and kiss them goodbye and tell them they love them...without worrying about the kids being embarrassed or angsty. However...there's a fine fine line between affectionate and obsession. For example, there are three main doors to enter my school. The first is a gate that let's you onto the property. The next is a door you have to buzz in order to get in (usually open for students in the morning). Then, there is the last and final door...the clingiest door of all. It goes beyond the welcome foyer, and actually ENTERS the school. Parent's aren't allowed past this point. I think it's perfectly appropriate to come through the front gate but any further seems like the parents are literally hanging on to every inch of their kids' childhoods and is taking it a bit too far. I get elbowed atleast five times each morning trying to bust my way through clingy mothers. As a side note, THIS is why Spaniards live at home until they are 31. True fact. Spanish men also act like babies. CUT THE CHORD WOMEN. You're not doing them any favors here...ugh. Serious pet peeve.

So, we fought the mothers, all of their absurd questions that should have been answered atleast 24 hours before the field trip, not 40 minutes after we were supposed to have departed. Finally, fiiiinally, we started the bus and headed away from Madrid. That adventure, and many more, will have to be told soon. Part 2 will be posted, probably Monday-ish. This weekend my host mom has lent Kiely & Katie & I her beach house in Valencia, and another friend from Alcala is lending us his TomTom. Basically....this weekend is going to be full of swimming, sun, and lots of crazy adventures in a manual car (I'm sure). Pray for me and make sure I post soon, I'm accumulating too many stories for my own good. Peace, love, and crazy pictures below.

My 4th graders decided to photobomb, haha

Oh my crazy kids. Check back later for more of our adventures.