Saturday, September 24, 2011
A boring post to catch things up
Once again I got caught up in life and suck at blogging...but it's been a hectic week!
I don't even know where to begin...and to be honest, nothing earth-shatteringly interesting has happened so I'll try to update you all in an entertaining way. Let's cross our fingers and begin.
My first day at school was last Thursday, but I went in on Wednesday to say hello, make sure they remembered I was coming back, etc. I knew I would have to suffer through a million hello kisses and I was prepared for the awkwardness. The only thing that helped me gather my nerves was the thought of all of my kids super excited to see me and telling me how bee-you-tee-full I am. I arrived at school around 11:40, just in time for recess. I walked inside, though, and nobody was on the playground. Not knowing why they were still in class, I went upstairs and headed to the teacher's lounge, hoping to find Rocio, the English coordinator, and talk to her about this school year, me starting, etc. I didn't find her but one of the other teachers was in there prepping for classes and was super excited to see me. I asked her what was going on this school year, how things were going (because they all started Monday) and she gave me some of the dirt on all of the changes that went on over the summer. They switched around some of the teachers and basically all of them were annoyed because it was Wednesday, nobody had their schedules yet, and there was no organization. It made me feel better knowing that they were completely in the dark in life as well, and it wasn't just me, haha. Instead of being bombarded by my students though, I ended up being bombarded by my teachers. I was really surprised because last year they didn't seem super warm towards me...they weren't unfriendly, by any means, but they weren't super excited or involving either. This year though they were all so happy to see me! I was so surprised and it made me so happy to see all of them...for once I didn't mind all of the hello kisses :) They're a lot less awkward when people are truly happy to see you, and you to see them, too.
The first week of classes, that week, is "sensibility" week...and that might be a really poor translation. Basically the teachers have to pull material out of their asses in order to waste time until they receive their real schedules and can prepare classes accordingly. Honestly it's more fun for me because I just walked around from class to class and tried to help the teachers waste time. To give you an example of how much the teachers didn't care, they made the kids watch The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and then gave them a bogus worksheet to pass the time. Isabel, my favorite teacher, asked the kids what happened when when the boys came out of the closet, then whispered in my ear that they "bought rainbow flags and went to celebrate Pride in Chueca (the gay district)." It was a fun week because I basically had no responsibilities or anything to do. I did crack open their new English books, though, because literally none of the other English teachers had, haha.
Come Monday they had finally finished our schedules. They tried to give me Monday free, but it just wasn't possible. Instead I only have one class on Monday (at 3 p.m.), and a half day on Friday. I'm pretty excited! Combined it's like a 3 day weekend, right?? Haha. Some good news, though, is that I feel like I have been inadvertantly promoted. First of all, all of the classes have an extra hour of English this year. This hour is my hour of class, which means we won't be using the books. Instead they want me to facilitate them speaking more in English and doing more activities/games/projects. They also have discussed it and are going to let me give the kids grades! It's not super official but basically the kids will now know that I have a grade book and that during my hour of English I can give them positive or negative marks and tell the teacher so that it impacts their overall grade in the class. Technically as an assistant I'm not allowed to give "grades" but I thought this was amazing because it shows their respect for me and I feel like they are truly working to include me and demand respect for me. It feels so good.
I think this year is going to be wonderful. I survived my first week "on my own" in the classrooms and while I cheated and used some Spanish to assert my boundaries, most of the classes (even the awful 2nd graders) were eager and excited for the fun class each week with me. Hopefully I can live up to everybody's expectations!
Next blog I'll try to be more fun, this was just necessary catch-up work :)
Thursday, September 8, 2011
ChiChi's Shit & My Second Arrival in Madrid
Hola world! I know I said I'd write sooner but my days have been hectic. First we've had class from 9-3 every day, & it takes me over an hour to get to our classes which are located in BFE. That means I have to get up ass early, which wouldn't be so bad if I actually slept each night. The week before I came, I didn't sleep much & now that I'm here I've got terrible jet lag. I try to go to sleep at 10, but my body says, "wake up bitch! It's 4 p.m." Or last night I tried to go to bed at 9 (we had no internet, we're currently stealing wifi from our neighbors while ours gets fixed) but there was this block party concert thing near by so I had to suffer through that. First an opera singer, then some more normal bands, and for the grand finale was a Spanish version of Jay-Z. Jota zeta en la casa!! (if you speak Spanish that joke might have been funny...maybe.)
Back to my arrival here. I had an absurd journey (you might have already followed some details on Facebook, I had a bit of free time on my hands). My flight from Indy was at 6:30 am so I spent the entire night before that packing and cleaning my room. We left the house around 4:30. The flight was fine (I think...I passed out almost immediately. I even missed my complementary drink which I'm still upset about, haha) but the airplane was soo small. It couldn't have been more than 8 feet wide. There were two rows, one with 2 seats and the other with only one. That small. Looked like a model airplane.
I arrived in Miami around 9am.
We ended up waiting on the plane for about 45 minutes just waiting to taxi & for the attendants to unload our carry ons. The plane was so small that we had to check almost all of our small carry on luggage because there was no overhead space. So anyways the baggage guys come out to the plane and all of us watched as they unloaded our carry-on items. The two Miami-ans were young men who clearly hated their jobs and perhaps their entire lives. They, therefore, had no respect for our belongings. The worst was this little burgundy carry-on that the guy literally picked up and chucked towards the top shelf of the luggage cart. Surprisingly enough it missed, flew over the rack, and landed three feet away. He begrudgingly walked over, picked it up, tossed it up without looking again, and watched it teeter on the edge. He decided that was secure enough and went back to the other bags. 2 seconds later it fell at least 8 feet off the cart again back on to the ground. Everyone on the plane was watching this occur like a close football game, moaning and shouting, "OHH! that's gotta hurt!! Sucks for whoever's luggage that is!!"
It was mine. I watched every freaking throw, fall, roll, tumble, and bashing while listening to everyone else adding their own play-by-play commentary. Even more embarrassing was the fact that everyone was eagerly watching to see which unfortunate person would claim the battered bag because it was still teetering on the edge & they figured it would fall again. I hesitantly claimed my bag, head down, and rolled it away, just thankful that the wheels still worked.
I got inside and there were no directions telling where to go for connecting flights, or where to go to recheck your luggage. I drug my sad carryon to the nearest desk and asked for help. The attendants, both Hispanic, took my boarding pass and tag-teamed my questions on the computer. They cheerfully informed me that my luggage would automatically be transferred all the way through (unless Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky bag basher got his angry hands on it) and my connecting flight was at gate D11. Then they both got a very familiar look on their face, a look that I've seen many times before...a look of severe sympathy for bad news & simultaneous disbelief of how unlucky I am (it's the same look my students give me when I break the news to them that I don't have a boyfriend...I'm used to it)
"um, well the thing is your flight doesn't leave until this evening, at 6:30pm..."
I know this chicas. I do have my itinerary haha. I tried to humor them & thanked them for the help.
So I start walking to my gate. I walk and walk and walk and walk & finally reach my gate around 10. I like to think of it as Devine intervention, but my gate was located in between Starbucks, Hagen Daaz, Wendy's, and Jose Cuervo's Tequileria.
My first stop? Wanna make bets?
Starbucks. Duh. I needed coffee to stay alert so that nobody stole my beaten up carry on. I bought a Cosmo & 24 hours of Internet so I could have something to do for my 9 hour layover.
The first thing I noticed was that I already felt like I was in Madrid. The entire airport was filled with Hispanics! I thought about skipping my 9 hour layover, skipping my 9 hour transatlantic flight, and just freelancing translation down there.
2 hours later I realized the gate where I had set up camp, in front of Starbucks, was a flight headed to Guatemala. That explained the abundance of Latin Americans. Face palm.
So I read my Cosmo, candidly...the articles can be a bit colorful and some creepass behind me kept looking over my shoulder...
The best part about a 9 hour layover in an airport (there aren't many) especially in Miami, has to be the people watching. Bleach blonde Hispanics (dark skin, bleached hair), countless people wearing shirts that say MIAMI across the front (or sweatpants with MIAMI across the ass), and finally a large Cuban man (I assume, his shirt said CUBA) with a little chihuahua. I'm not positive that having a chihuahua was legal, but because it was the only dog in the airport, and so small, everyone stared at him, nudging their friends and pointing, "look! Isn't he soo cute??"
While everyone was swooning over the dog, and the large Cuban was strutting proudly and tall, basking in the attention of his popular accessory (the image was pretty ironic...300 lb Cuban man, 2 lb chihuahua)...the chihuahua stopped.
And in the fashion of most people who use pets for accessories, the Cuban did not pay attention to his dog and simply dragged it along behind him (slick tile floors...the chihuahua didn't stand a chance.)
Most dog owners know where this is going. When dogs stop, they are usually smelling for pee, or they themselves have to pee.
Little ChiChi (I named the dog) started to hunch his back. Turns out he didn't have to pee after all, he had to go #2.
So. while being drug on the linoleum, with over 200 people watching, ChiChi crapped, in a trail, all along the airport floor.
The 200+ watchers all gasped & pointed laughing at poor ChiChi and bringing it to the attention of everybody they could reach. Large Cuban (let's call him Juan) and ChiChi had reached the moving sidewalk, but a kind couple tapped on Juan's shoulder and brought it to his attention that ChiChi had left a little present behind. Apparently Juan is a real dick and completely ignored them, quickly walking away (as quick as a large man can walk). So we all stared at the poop, which was like watching a train wreck because a.) nobody wanted to clean it up, b.) we all wanted to punch smug Juan in his crap-lousy face, and c.) not all of the traveling passengers saw ChiChi doing his business, so everybody was kicking the poop, stepping on it, and trailing it throughout MIA.
Eventually the crowd died down, and ChiChi's leftovers were being avoided. Finally one of the flight attendants at my gate noticed and yelled to one of the security guards to pick it up. The funny thing was she yelled it in Spanish, trying to be more tactful. Apparently she hadn't realized that she was surrounded by Hispanics who understood everything when she yelled "EH! DIEGO! A DAMNED DOG SHAT ON THE FLOOR OVER THERE! LOOK! DO YOU SEE? THATS A SMALL PILE OF SHIT RIGHT THERE! YEAH, A DOG SHAT ON THE FLOOR AND NOW PEOPLE ARE WALKING THROUGH IT."
Diego, being a security guard, was above picking up doggie doo doo, so he grabbed one of the luggage carts and placed it over the poop.
This was an improvement to the situation, for sure, until about 30 minutes later, when an older man thought that fate was smiling upon him and had left him an empty luggage cart. So he took the poop shield, kicking it around as he walked off. Finally, an hour after that, the cleaning lady came with her broom and swept it up. Unfortunately she didn't see the last piece that somebody had tracked over by the moving sidewalk. That remained there until I left, and may or may not still be there as you read this. So here's to ChiChi for leaving his mark on Miami, and hoping that someday he can get away from that asshole Juan. I'm hoping that karma will come around and get him some commercials with Taco Bell.
I eventually made my flight to Madrid. Remember my last post where I said I liked the aisle so I can pee when I want? Still applied. I sat in a window seat (because this stupid flight charged $35 for "preferred seats" aka aisle seats) next to an unfriendly Spanish women who may or may not have been both pregnant and anorexic. She had a minimal bump, but was very very thin. And refused to eat anything on the flight. She made me nervous so I went all 9 hours without peeing. It was okay though because I slept most of the time anyways.
So I get to Madrid, pee, make it through customs (even though my green card had expired) and went to get my luggage. And I waited. And I waited. 40 minutes later I almost had a small panic attack (again, remember last year?) I kept thinking to myself "don't freak out...if you don't have your luggage, you'll get it eventually. Don't cry. Plus you know it was that screw-up shitbag in Miami that threw your carry-on, so you already know who to blame. Seriously don't cry. Think about your satin sheets! Zebra print satin sheets. And hot Spanish men. Ok for serious DO NOT CRY."
On top of that, soooomebody forgot to come get me at the airport. I won't name names but it rhymes with Hamuel and starts with an S. I didn't know this though, so I texted as much as I could until I ran out of money on my phone & prayed he hadn't left due to my delays (we had already arrived an hour late anyways). It also didn't help I was in terminal 4, and hardly any flights come in through terminal 4. Deep down, I knew that all of these conflicts were going to result in me being alone at the airport.
Finally my bag appeared. Magically. I grabbed my crap and rushed through the gates. Nobody there. I did a few laps with my cart, accidentally hit a few people in my anxious pacing, but eventually came to terms with the fact that I was alone. I tried to pick up a wifi signal to get ahold of somebody on Facebook, but that didn't work either. I knew that if I tried to take the Metro, with two suitcases and a carry-on, I would have some sort of post traumatic stress flash back to last year and probably have an anxiety attack . So with satin sheets and happy thoughts in mind, I walked aimlessly weighing my options.
DON'T CRY. YOU ARE NOT A CUTE CRIER.
I found a little hub with two computers where you could get on the Internet. Luckily a guy was just getting off so I hopped on, preparing to get raped by the airport prices. I put in one euro and got 18 minutes! Still rape, but at the time I only needed 2 minutes and felt like the storm was finally passing.
About an hour later, around noon, I decided I needed to look for other people to help me. I called my friend Rebecca and luckily she had gotten into Madrid early and was cleaning her new apartment. She tried to hurry to help me but I was calm as a cucumber once I knew that help was on the way. I took my time going to the bathroom, sat at the little airport coffee shop playing Hearts on my new iPhone (p.s. That's literally what I did for the majority of my time in Miami...reprogram my iPhone. Tim found a 3G on eBay for cheap because the top button that makes it sleep doesn't work. Funny thing is when I landed from Indy, the button worked!) I did have to tolerate a noisy child next to me, who I nicknamed DJ Biggie Smalls because he insisted on clapping, smacking or beating on any thing nearby with a solid surface, and playing his Arabic techno music at full volume from his cell phone while singing. His dad was wearing headphones so he didn't give a shit anyways. I think he was maybe 11 or 12, old enough to not be cute enough to do that crap in public, plus he was dressed like he belonged in a gang, with pants at his knees and an XXXL shirt.
Rebecca finally came and I'm finally settling in. If only I could sleep, that'd be the cherry on the cake. This weekend I get to go to a pool party! I'm excited to swim. And meet new friends. I know I sound like I'm five but I'm just that excited. Will update soon. :)
I'm working on a tagline to end my blog, so it has a definitive goodbye. For now, I think, I will just re-warn America to watch out for ChiChi's shit. It could be anywhere.
Back to my arrival here. I had an absurd journey (you might have already followed some details on Facebook, I had a bit of free time on my hands). My flight from Indy was at 6:30 am so I spent the entire night before that packing and cleaning my room. We left the house around 4:30. The flight was fine (I think...I passed out almost immediately. I even missed my complementary drink which I'm still upset about, haha) but the airplane was soo small. It couldn't have been more than 8 feet wide. There were two rows, one with 2 seats and the other with only one. That small. Looked like a model airplane.
I arrived in Miami around 9am.
Miami! If you look closely, it's the coast :) It was beautiful.
We ended up waiting on the plane for about 45 minutes just waiting to taxi & for the attendants to unload our carry ons. The plane was so small that we had to check almost all of our small carry on luggage because there was no overhead space. So anyways the baggage guys come out to the plane and all of us watched as they unloaded our carry-on items. The two Miami-ans were young men who clearly hated their jobs and perhaps their entire lives. They, therefore, had no respect for our belongings. The worst was this little burgundy carry-on that the guy literally picked up and chucked towards the top shelf of the luggage cart. Surprisingly enough it missed, flew over the rack, and landed three feet away. He begrudgingly walked over, picked it up, tossed it up without looking again, and watched it teeter on the edge. He decided that was secure enough and went back to the other bags. 2 seconds later it fell at least 8 feet off the cart again back on to the ground. Everyone on the plane was watching this occur like a close football game, moaning and shouting, "OHH! that's gotta hurt!! Sucks for whoever's luggage that is!!"
It was mine. I watched every freaking throw, fall, roll, tumble, and bashing while listening to everyone else adding their own play-by-play commentary. Even more embarrassing was the fact that everyone was eagerly watching to see which unfortunate person would claim the battered bag because it was still teetering on the edge & they figured it would fall again. I hesitantly claimed my bag, head down, and rolled it away, just thankful that the wheels still worked.
I got inside and there were no directions telling where to go for connecting flights, or where to go to recheck your luggage. I drug my sad carryon to the nearest desk and asked for help. The attendants, both Hispanic, took my boarding pass and tag-teamed my questions on the computer. They cheerfully informed me that my luggage would automatically be transferred all the way through (unless Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky bag basher got his angry hands on it) and my connecting flight was at gate D11. Then they both got a very familiar look on their face, a look that I've seen many times before...a look of severe sympathy for bad news & simultaneous disbelief of how unlucky I am (it's the same look my students give me when I break the news to them that I don't have a boyfriend...I'm used to it)
"um, well the thing is your flight doesn't leave until this evening, at 6:30pm..."
I know this chicas. I do have my itinerary haha. I tried to humor them & thanked them for the help.
So I start walking to my gate. I walk and walk and walk and walk & finally reach my gate around 10. I like to think of it as Devine intervention, but my gate was located in between Starbucks, Hagen Daaz, Wendy's, and Jose Cuervo's Tequileria.
My first stop? Wanna make bets?
Starbucks. Duh. I needed coffee to stay alert so that nobody stole my beaten up carry on. I bought a Cosmo & 24 hours of Internet so I could have something to do for my 9 hour layover.
The first thing I noticed was that I already felt like I was in Madrid. The entire airport was filled with Hispanics! I thought about skipping my 9 hour layover, skipping my 9 hour transatlantic flight, and just freelancing translation down there.
2 hours later I realized the gate where I had set up camp, in front of Starbucks, was a flight headed to Guatemala. That explained the abundance of Latin Americans. Face palm.
So I read my Cosmo, candidly...the articles can be a bit colorful and some creepass behind me kept looking over my shoulder...
The best part about a 9 hour layover in an airport (there aren't many) especially in Miami, has to be the people watching. Bleach blonde Hispanics (dark skin, bleached hair), countless people wearing shirts that say MIAMI across the front (or sweatpants with MIAMI across the ass), and finally a large Cuban man (I assume, his shirt said CUBA) with a little chihuahua. I'm not positive that having a chihuahua was legal, but because it was the only dog in the airport, and so small, everyone stared at him, nudging their friends and pointing, "look! Isn't he soo cute??"
While everyone was swooning over the dog, and the large Cuban was strutting proudly and tall, basking in the attention of his popular accessory (the image was pretty ironic...300 lb Cuban man, 2 lb chihuahua)...the chihuahua stopped.
And in the fashion of most people who use pets for accessories, the Cuban did not pay attention to his dog and simply dragged it along behind him (slick tile floors...the chihuahua didn't stand a chance.)
Most dog owners know where this is going. When dogs stop, they are usually smelling for pee, or they themselves have to pee.
Little ChiChi (I named the dog) started to hunch his back. Turns out he didn't have to pee after all, he had to go #2.
So. while being drug on the linoleum, with over 200 people watching, ChiChi crapped, in a trail, all along the airport floor.
The 200+ watchers all gasped & pointed laughing at poor ChiChi and bringing it to the attention of everybody they could reach. Large Cuban (let's call him Juan) and ChiChi had reached the moving sidewalk, but a kind couple tapped on Juan's shoulder and brought it to his attention that ChiChi had left a little present behind. Apparently Juan is a real dick and completely ignored them, quickly walking away (as quick as a large man can walk). So we all stared at the poop, which was like watching a train wreck because a.) nobody wanted to clean it up, b.) we all wanted to punch smug Juan in his crap-lousy face, and c.) not all of the traveling passengers saw ChiChi doing his business, so everybody was kicking the poop, stepping on it, and trailing it throughout MIA.
Eventually the crowd died down, and ChiChi's leftovers were being avoided. Finally one of the flight attendants at my gate noticed and yelled to one of the security guards to pick it up. The funny thing was she yelled it in Spanish, trying to be more tactful. Apparently she hadn't realized that she was surrounded by Hispanics who understood everything when she yelled "EH! DIEGO! A DAMNED DOG SHAT ON THE FLOOR OVER THERE! LOOK! DO YOU SEE? THATS A SMALL PILE OF SHIT RIGHT THERE! YEAH, A DOG SHAT ON THE FLOOR AND NOW PEOPLE ARE WALKING THROUGH IT."
Diego, being a security guard, was above picking up doggie doo doo, so he grabbed one of the luggage carts and placed it over the poop.
Actual photo.
This was an improvement to the situation, for sure, until about 30 minutes later, when an older man thought that fate was smiling upon him and had left him an empty luggage cart. So he took the poop shield, kicking it around as he walked off. Finally, an hour after that, the cleaning lady came with her broom and swept it up. Unfortunately she didn't see the last piece that somebody had tracked over by the moving sidewalk. That remained there until I left, and may or may not still be there as you read this. So here's to ChiChi for leaving his mark on Miami, and hoping that someday he can get away from that asshole Juan. I'm hoping that karma will come around and get him some commercials with Taco Bell.
I eventually made my flight to Madrid. Remember my last post where I said I liked the aisle so I can pee when I want? Still applied. I sat in a window seat (because this stupid flight charged $35 for "preferred seats" aka aisle seats) next to an unfriendly Spanish women who may or may not have been both pregnant and anorexic. She had a minimal bump, but was very very thin. And refused to eat anything on the flight. She made me nervous so I went all 9 hours without peeing. It was okay though because I slept most of the time anyways.
So I get to Madrid, pee, make it through customs (even though my green card had expired) and went to get my luggage. And I waited. And I waited. 40 minutes later I almost had a small panic attack (again, remember last year?) I kept thinking to myself "don't freak out...if you don't have your luggage, you'll get it eventually. Don't cry. Plus you know it was that screw-up shitbag in Miami that threw your carry-on, so you already know who to blame. Seriously don't cry. Think about your satin sheets! Zebra print satin sheets. And hot Spanish men. Ok for serious DO NOT CRY."
On top of that, soooomebody forgot to come get me at the airport. I won't name names but it rhymes with Hamuel and starts with an S. I didn't know this though, so I texted as much as I could until I ran out of money on my phone & prayed he hadn't left due to my delays (we had already arrived an hour late anyways). It also didn't help I was in terminal 4, and hardly any flights come in through terminal 4. Deep down, I knew that all of these conflicts were going to result in me being alone at the airport.
Finally my bag appeared. Magically. I grabbed my crap and rushed through the gates. Nobody there. I did a few laps with my cart, accidentally hit a few people in my anxious pacing, but eventually came to terms with the fact that I was alone. I tried to pick up a wifi signal to get ahold of somebody on Facebook, but that didn't work either. I knew that if I tried to take the Metro, with two suitcases and a carry-on, I would have some sort of post traumatic stress flash back to last year and probably have an anxiety attack . So with satin sheets and happy thoughts in mind, I walked aimlessly weighing my options.
DON'T CRY. YOU ARE NOT A CUTE CRIER.
I found a little hub with two computers where you could get on the Internet. Luckily a guy was just getting off so I hopped on, preparing to get raped by the airport prices. I put in one euro and got 18 minutes! Still rape, but at the time I only needed 2 minutes and felt like the storm was finally passing.
About an hour later, around noon, I decided I needed to look for other people to help me. I called my friend Rebecca and luckily she had gotten into Madrid early and was cleaning her new apartment. She tried to hurry to help me but I was calm as a cucumber once I knew that help was on the way. I took my time going to the bathroom, sat at the little airport coffee shop playing Hearts on my new iPhone (p.s. That's literally what I did for the majority of my time in Miami...reprogram my iPhone. Tim found a 3G on eBay for cheap because the top button that makes it sleep doesn't work. Funny thing is when I landed from Indy, the button worked!) I did have to tolerate a noisy child next to me, who I nicknamed DJ Biggie Smalls because he insisted on clapping, smacking or beating on any thing nearby with a solid surface, and playing his Arabic techno music at full volume from his cell phone while singing. His dad was wearing headphones so he didn't give a shit anyways. I think he was maybe 11 or 12, old enough to not be cute enough to do that crap in public, plus he was dressed like he belonged in a gang, with pants at his knees and an XXXL shirt.
Rebecca finally came and I'm finally settling in. If only I could sleep, that'd be the cherry on the cake. This weekend I get to go to a pool party! I'm excited to swim. And meet new friends. I know I sound like I'm five but I'm just that excited. Will update soon. :)
I'm working on a tagline to end my blog, so it has a definitive goodbye. For now, I think, I will just re-warn America to watch out for ChiChi's shit. It could be anywhere.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Back with a Bang!
Hello world!!! It's been quite a while, hasn't it?! I apologize. I had plenty of things I could have blogged about over the summer but I didn't want to cheapen the experience.
And I'm lazy. But if you're reading this, you should know that by now.
Well, as I type this I am laying in my mildly cluttered NEW bed with zebra print satin sheets :D (if you'd like some of your own, perhaps in a solid color, giraffe, or cheetah print, check Amazon. $20. I'm so impressed with myself and everytime I lay in them I feel like a princess. They're so damned soft!!)
Check that out, 3rd paragraph, already sidetracked. That must be a record.
Anyways, I'm FINALLY back in Madrid. I'm assuming most of you know by now but I decided to stay another year, at least, to learn Spanish this time. Last year I came with the intent of learning Spanish and getting a not-so-important Master's degree at the same time. I got the Masters, and am still amazed by my thesis, ask to flip through it sometime (lots of pictures, easy to read). Anyways, I spoke English ALL of the time. With my roommates, at school, private classes...and I somehow managed to escape the entire reason I came here. So, year #2. This year I'm getting paid twice as much with half of the work. I'm going to have *gasp* free time...and maybe even develop a social life! I'm not holding my breath though :) In case you're wondering, I'll be home December 23. I've yet to buy my return ticket, but I'm looking at January 7 - June 28ish, which means we'll need to celebrate my birthday early. (January 10th cough cough).
Okay good. All of the boring nitty gritty details are finished. Let's get to the part where I cannot manage to travel without 80 kinds of crazy.
I never updated this AFTER I flew back for the summer. I had quite an eventful time getting to the airport (ask if you'd really like to know) but once I finally got to my gate & was able to sit down, calmly, knowing I got there on time, I was thrilled. Finally headed home!! My flight was FILLED with students heading to America to learn English for the summer. I think that grand total there were about 3 or 4 groups of 30 students each on this plane, with matching T-shirts so they didn't get lost. I go to my seat and somebody is already sitting there. He was blonde & cute & didn't speak English well, but he asked me if it would be okay if he switched me seats because I was next to his 13 year old brother & he didn't want him to sit all alone. I asked if, by chance, his seat was on the aisle. He said yes so I told him no problem, I'd move back on the plane.
I get to my new seat and there are these 4 girls. The last one, on my aisle, gathers up the courage to try and ask me in English if she can switch me seats because I was by myself so she can be with her friends. I told her sure, as long as my seat was on the aisle. She said it was, so she took me up front (awkwardly enough, past the blonde kid) and showed me her seat. At this point I go to sit down and a flamboyant flight attendant sees me about to sit down and says, "Are you by yourself??" ........yes, sir, thanks for pointing that out. I am all alone. Yes. Alone.
"Since you're alone, would you mind moving to a seat in the back? I have a kiddo I'm trying to keep an eye on and it'd be easier if he was here with his group." Sure, why the hell not? I've moved twice, what's three times. I asked "by any chance is it in the aisle?" It was! Super. So I haul my carry on back. I feel like I should also add that my carry on held ALL of my clothes. Literally, all of them. It was packed to the rim and weighed about 30 pounds. It was like dragging a sack of sheet rock.
I get to my new seat, start to try to put my carry on up above, and the man in front of me turns around. I AM NOT KIDDING. "Are you by yourself?" Question of the year, sir. Why yes, I'm the only one on this foresaken plane who is alone! GLAD YOU NOTICED. I was so happy to be coming home, though, after 6 months that I wasn't even annoyed. At all, ever, during this situation. "Yes, I'm by myself........wanting to switch seats?" "Well if you don't mind! My wife is up there with our family friends and I'm just one row back..." You know my rules! As long as it's on the aisle...
At this point the flight attendant got sassy and in Mean Momma mode. "Oh my Lord! I feel so bad for you! I just made you move!" I told them I really didn't care where I sat as long as it was on the aisle, and they could muster up the muscle to put my suitcase in the overhead bin because it was kinda big, kinda heavy, may or not have qualified for the carry on requirements........
The guy I was trading with starts to hoist my carry on (with ease) when Miss Spanish America narrowed her sights on me and bee-lined it for my seat with her clipboard. She was about 29ish, bad highlights, and was in charge of one of the students groups. She was super proud of her English and was therefore overly assertive with it. "You're alone raight? Could jew moof up dere, I haff a student and he ees by himself." It was more of a statement than a question. I just laughed. And I asked her if it was in the aisle. (P.S. if you're wondering why I like the aisle, it's simply because I am the exact opposite of Charo there. I'm too passive. If I sit in a non-aisle position, I won't pee for the entire flight, even though it's 9 hours long. Case in point: My trip back from the USA. Sat next to a mean girl, potentially pregnant and anorexic (go figure) and didn't get out once.) She says, "yes yes, it's right up here".......but it wasn't in the aisle.
Well nice passenger and sassy flight attendant flip shits. "OH MY GOD!! She just moved twice!!!"
...."actually this would be my fifth move...."
Sassy gay bald flight attendant: OH MY GAWD, are you kidding?! You're SERIOUS!? Oh my God. Oh my God. Sweetie what's your name?? Chelsea?? Chelsea it's nice to meet you. I'm going to take care of you today. Anything you need, ANYTHING, just let me know okay? We're gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take care of you.
We get up to look at my new and hopefully last seat...but it's not in the aisle. SGBFA (sassy gay bald flight attendant) lost it.
SGBFA: Nuh-uh. She said aisle. AIIIIISLE. Do you know what aisle is?? This seat is in the aisle, and this one and this one. (She mumbles ahh, que esta en el pasillo...) YES. Paseeyo? AISLE, in English. Yes, look, now you've learned a new word today! She won't move unless it's en EL PASEEYO.
............................................face palm.
Anyways, she finally chooses one of her student's seats that's in the aisle. I sit down and enjoyed a 2 hour conversation with a nice Spanish man on vacation, before he let me go to sleep. I taught him how to improve his accent before he let me rest, but in the end it was an incredible flight. No turbulence. No scary moments at take off or landing. AND SGBFA offered me free headphones (usually $5), my choice of refreshments and meals before everyone else, he gave me extra pretzels, and also offered me free booze. Sometimes it pays off to be a doormat. And my nice Spanish neighbor also reaped the benefits of the earphones because he didn't want him to feel left out...God forbid anybody be "by themselves" on the airplane.
Somehow this post ended up being longer than expected and I haven't even detailed my trip back over here. I think a lot of you saw my bajillion updates on Facebook, though, so for tonight I think I will just leave you with some pictures of my new apartment and finish expanding on my absurd trip tomorrow :) I don't start teaching until September 15 (at the latest) so I'll have plenty of time before then to write!
Here's my new beautiful home in Aravaca :)
And I'm lazy. But if you're reading this, you should know that by now.
Well, as I type this I am laying in my mildly cluttered NEW bed with zebra print satin sheets :D (if you'd like some of your own, perhaps in a solid color, giraffe, or cheetah print, check Amazon. $20. I'm so impressed with myself and everytime I lay in them I feel like a princess. They're so damned soft!!)
Check that out, 3rd paragraph, already sidetracked. That must be a record.
Anyways, I'm FINALLY back in Madrid. I'm assuming most of you know by now but I decided to stay another year, at least, to learn Spanish this time. Last year I came with the intent of learning Spanish and getting a not-so-important Master's degree at the same time. I got the Masters, and am still amazed by my thesis, ask to flip through it sometime (lots of pictures, easy to read). Anyways, I spoke English ALL of the time. With my roommates, at school, private classes...and I somehow managed to escape the entire reason I came here. So, year #2. This year I'm getting paid twice as much with half of the work. I'm going to have *gasp* free time...and maybe even develop a social life! I'm not holding my breath though :) In case you're wondering, I'll be home December 23. I've yet to buy my return ticket, but I'm looking at January 7 - June 28ish, which means we'll need to celebrate my birthday early. (January 10th cough cough).
Okay good. All of the boring nitty gritty details are finished. Let's get to the part where I cannot manage to travel without 80 kinds of crazy.
I never updated this AFTER I flew back for the summer. I had quite an eventful time getting to the airport (ask if you'd really like to know) but once I finally got to my gate & was able to sit down, calmly, knowing I got there on time, I was thrilled. Finally headed home!! My flight was FILLED with students heading to America to learn English for the summer. I think that grand total there were about 3 or 4 groups of 30 students each on this plane, with matching T-shirts so they didn't get lost. I go to my seat and somebody is already sitting there. He was blonde & cute & didn't speak English well, but he asked me if it would be okay if he switched me seats because I was next to his 13 year old brother & he didn't want him to sit all alone. I asked if, by chance, his seat was on the aisle. He said yes so I told him no problem, I'd move back on the plane.
I get to my new seat and there are these 4 girls. The last one, on my aisle, gathers up the courage to try and ask me in English if she can switch me seats because I was by myself so she can be with her friends. I told her sure, as long as my seat was on the aisle. She said it was, so she took me up front (awkwardly enough, past the blonde kid) and showed me her seat. At this point I go to sit down and a flamboyant flight attendant sees me about to sit down and says, "Are you by yourself??" ........yes, sir, thanks for pointing that out. I am all alone. Yes. Alone.
"Since you're alone, would you mind moving to a seat in the back? I have a kiddo I'm trying to keep an eye on and it'd be easier if he was here with his group." Sure, why the hell not? I've moved twice, what's three times. I asked "by any chance is it in the aisle?" It was! Super. So I haul my carry on back. I feel like I should also add that my carry on held ALL of my clothes. Literally, all of them. It was packed to the rim and weighed about 30 pounds. It was like dragging a sack of sheet rock.
I get to my new seat, start to try to put my carry on up above, and the man in front of me turns around. I AM NOT KIDDING. "Are you by yourself?" Question of the year, sir. Why yes, I'm the only one on this foresaken plane who is alone! GLAD YOU NOTICED. I was so happy to be coming home, though, after 6 months that I wasn't even annoyed. At all, ever, during this situation. "Yes, I'm by myself........wanting to switch seats?" "Well if you don't mind! My wife is up there with our family friends and I'm just one row back..." You know my rules! As long as it's on the aisle...
At this point the flight attendant got sassy and in Mean Momma mode. "Oh my Lord! I feel so bad for you! I just made you move!" I told them I really didn't care where I sat as long as it was on the aisle, and they could muster up the muscle to put my suitcase in the overhead bin because it was kinda big, kinda heavy, may or not have qualified for the carry on requirements........
The guy I was trading with starts to hoist my carry on (with ease) when Miss Spanish America narrowed her sights on me and bee-lined it for my seat with her clipboard. She was about 29ish, bad highlights, and was in charge of one of the students groups. She was super proud of her English and was therefore overly assertive with it. "You're alone raight? Could jew moof up dere, I haff a student and he ees by himself." It was more of a statement than a question. I just laughed. And I asked her if it was in the aisle. (P.S. if you're wondering why I like the aisle, it's simply because I am the exact opposite of Charo there. I'm too passive. If I sit in a non-aisle position, I won't pee for the entire flight, even though it's 9 hours long. Case in point: My trip back from the USA. Sat next to a mean girl, potentially pregnant and anorexic (go figure) and didn't get out once.) She says, "yes yes, it's right up here".......but it wasn't in the aisle.
Well nice passenger and sassy flight attendant flip shits. "OH MY GOD!! She just moved twice!!!"
...."actually this would be my fifth move...."
Sassy gay bald flight attendant: OH MY GAWD, are you kidding?! You're SERIOUS!? Oh my God. Oh my God. Sweetie what's your name?? Chelsea?? Chelsea it's nice to meet you. I'm going to take care of you today. Anything you need, ANYTHING, just let me know okay? We're gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take care of you.
We get up to look at my new and hopefully last seat...but it's not in the aisle. SGBFA (sassy gay bald flight attendant) lost it.
SGBFA: Nuh-uh. She said aisle. AIIIIISLE. Do you know what aisle is?? This seat is in the aisle, and this one and this one. (She mumbles ahh, que esta en el pasillo...) YES. Paseeyo? AISLE, in English. Yes, look, now you've learned a new word today! She won't move unless it's en EL PASEEYO.
............................................face palm.
Anyways, she finally chooses one of her student's seats that's in the aisle. I sit down and enjoyed a 2 hour conversation with a nice Spanish man on vacation, before he let me go to sleep. I taught him how to improve his accent before he let me rest, but in the end it was an incredible flight. No turbulence. No scary moments at take off or landing. AND SGBFA offered me free headphones (usually $5), my choice of refreshments and meals before everyone else, he gave me extra pretzels, and also offered me free booze. Sometimes it pays off to be a doormat. And my nice Spanish neighbor also reaped the benefits of the earphones because he didn't want him to feel left out...God forbid anybody be "by themselves" on the airplane.
Somehow this post ended up being longer than expected and I haven't even detailed my trip back over here. I think a lot of you saw my bajillion updates on Facebook, though, so for tonight I think I will just leave you with some pictures of my new apartment and finish expanding on my absurd trip tomorrow :) I don't start teaching until September 15 (at the latest) so I'll have plenty of time before then to write!
Here's my new beautiful home in Aravaca :)
My bedroom....still trying to unpack. Loving my huge window!
View from my window, overlooking the garden :)
ZEBRA SATIN SHEETS!!!
Classy staircase...only one flight instead of three this year haha
Our studio/library...TV & Computer, sun roof
OUR KITCHEN....do you believe it?!? There's a table in the kitchen. Our old kitchen had a capacity of one, haha.
Also, the door leads out to the little back porch and our garden!...
The tree right there to the right is a pomegranate tree!
My own personal bathroom! It's a little small but the water pressure is INCREDIBLE and it's my own!!
Our living room! (note: fits more than 5 people!! haha)
Actual dining room & more of the living room.
Isn't my new house so pretty!? I love it, and it's located in a beautiful neighborhood. Maybe tomorrow, or over the weekend when I can take some photos in the morning, I'll show you all that as well. But for now....ta ta!
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