After a Month in Spain

After having landed in Spain one month ago today, I found it appropriate to recap my findings and ambitions from a broader perspective.

                First, poverty is proving less stressful as I approach the light at the end of the tunnel  I spent 3.32 on groceries today and it about killed me, but I still have five euros left until who-knows-when.  I’ve exercised a lot of self-control and done a lot of cardio.  Hopefully I’ve lost some weight.  Alas, I’ve found ways to deal with loneliness and boredom, namely exploring the woods near my house.  I’m finding it more difficult than expected to join the community at a basic level—they talk too quickly for  me to understand, I don’t go to their church, and I feel my job has me under constant scrutiny.  Though I have considered attending mass with the idea that some church is better than no church, I’m currently of the view that it would cause more harm than good.  I am meanwhile content to focus on my writing, photography, and Spanish studies.

                During this time of grow and reflection, I’ve come to realize that my intent in Spain has been unarticulated (if it ever existed at all.)  Due to some inspiration from a dear friend, I’ve spent today, my month mark, re-evaluating a great many things, and I, like him, am ready to come forward with my bucket list for Spain.

                Before I do, it’s important to note that I have adopted the attitude that I only have until June before I leave Spain, willingly or no.  The plan has been to stay, but I don’t know how feasible that is.  And I’m certainly not going to miss out.  I need to live like I’m running out of time.  Because I am.  That being said, I also need to mention that, while marriage is a top priority, I chose not to add it to the list of “Things I absolutely must accomplish in the next nine months” for obvious reasons.  So, without further ado, here it is:

Continue preparing to be a good wife/mother

Become a good teacher

Become fluent in Spanish

Read the Book of Mormon in Spanish

Perform every ordinance at the Madrid temple

Pray in a cool forest

Sing in a castle

Have a fresh churro and chocolate

Have Paella

Eat Basque food

See a flamenco show

Running of the Bulls

Go to a futbol game

Go to a cool city for a procession during Semana Santa

Go salsa/bachata dancing

Do the Camino De Santiago

Surf

Go Skiing and to the beach in the same day

Take an award-winning photo

Go to a flea market

Ride a horse

Learn a cool Spanish guitar riff

Visit the following places:

                Cordoba-Mesquita Catedral

                Barcelona-Sagrada Famila, Gothic Quarter, Las Ramblas

                Madrid-Retiro Park, LDS temple

                Cadiz-Beach

                Ronda-Bridge

                Malaga-Ski, beach

                Granada-Alhambra

                Seville-*Plaza de Espana, Catedral, Real Alcazar

                               

                Now, with my bucket list official, it sure doesn’t feel like a lot to experience in a year, but it is such a loose outline for things to come!

                *I have already gone to the Plaza de Espana, when I first arrived in Spain, and it was there I took what may be the best photos thus far in my life.

                Also this month, my perspective has broadened on what is and isn’t Spain.  My job has helped me see that children are expected to show utter respect for authority/adults and are treated somewhat heavy-handedly.  Compared to my co-workers, I am delicate and a bit of a push-over.  This concept is so foreign to me I find myself dizzy from trying to wrap my head around it.  It’s never entered my cognition before that I might ever be “delicate,” but Spain has shown me otherwise.  Despite the sternness and frequently raised voices coming from the other teachers, the children seem to have a very strong sense of self.  I imagine this is how children might have been brought up in the US before the time of lawsuits and micromanagement.  It feels more like a one-room schoolhouse way: “Do as you’re told.  Go play outside,” etc. 

                My opinion of Spanish food has lessened since I first wrote about it.  Tortillas (omelets) are delicious, but I had some once that contained only the eggs and potatoes, leaving out the peppers and onions and whatever else goes into them.  That batch was NOT good.  Spain doesn’t use much salt, rendering other dishes relatively flavorless.  They do serve a ridiculously high amount of meat with lunch, from which dishes get their flavor.  This is also disappointing because I hoped for more spices, what with all the Moorish influence.  I am very impressed with brown lentil stew, and Spain’s version of Moussaka.  Christmas sweets are hitting the shelves and I am excited to buy some soon.

                I’m unimpressed with the constant noise, but I’m sure that will change when I have money to go out and be noisy as well.  One thing that won’t go away is my utter disgust for all the garbage everywhere.  It’s like the world is their dumpster.  I’m hiking to a castle for the first time tomorrow and I’m not looking forward to what I’ll see there. 

                The warmth of the people, though, that has exceeded my original opinion.  I’ve been asked out by men WAY out of my league age-wise (way out of my mom’s league too for that matter,) given hugs by strangers, and seen 12-year-old boys stop everything to randomly kiss younger siblings in passing.  I am approached almost daily by the school director, “Como fue la comida?  Que necesita?” (How was the food?  What do you need?)  I thought it was just a polite series of questions until the day I got sick.  Teachers came to the office offering medical advice and sent texts wishing me a happy, healthy weekend.  The sweetest teacher, Esperanza, is, not coincidentally, also the most regularly pissed off.  I am, without question, the mild-tempered one here, and that’s odd indeed.  Blood runs hot here, that’s for sure, though the carefree attitude of pretty much everyone masks that quite a bit.

And some of my students’ accents sound drawled, like Italian.

After Another Week

                After another week in Spain, a great many more adventures have ben had.  First, I only had school three days this week, which is happy, though another teacher suggested I be more strict with my 4-year-olds.  I couldn’t tell if she was being serious or sarcastic; this is Spain after all, land of the happy and free, and I, well, I’ve never before been accused of being “not strict enough.”  But, during my next class with them I was more strict and everyone was in disbelief, and there was some semblance of order in my classroom.  Although I found myself becoming more frustrated with them that day; I’m not sure if I’d rather admit that some of my children are Satan, or just have a polite, chaotic class.  The reality is that I can’t force these kids to learn and it is a huge energy drain to keep certain kiddos in their seats when I could be devoting that attention to actually trying to teach something.  This, of course, is all aside from the fact that I was hired to be an assistant teacher and somehow ended up teaching toddlers with no given curriculum in a classroom by myself.  But my principal and program director (if that’s what you call her) are very responsive, and I’m looking forward to our meeting Monday afternoon to add some structure to my classes with little kids.  I’m doing great with the 3^rd and 4^th graders.  They are picking up material at a measurable rate, and I’m able to at least communicate with them on some level.  I never babysat; I’m the youngest child.  I’ve changed exactly one diaper ever in my life.  Little ones are very foreign to me, and that, of course seems to be where all my time is spent.  But it’s great practice for life’s future endeavors, so I’m trying to learn all I can.

                This weekend has been better than the previous ones.  I’m actually getting out, which is very important.  My basic life philosophy is that happiness is directly correlated to the amount of time a person spends outside.  But outside in the city streets is really only half outside in my opinion, what with building shade, canopies, and noise, noise, noise.  But it sure beats a lonely apartment.  I had a couple dates this week—the first was awesome until it took a violent nose-dive at the end.  The second was really much better than expected and we’ll be going out again I’m sure, even though he lives in Seville which is an hour away from me.  Today, I went into the woods. I started out with the intention to follow a few different grave roads in a loop, but that was very hot and very boring (again, I need to stop going out at 2 pm.)  On my way back home (I turned around before I came to the second road) I discovered a footpath that led the direction of town.  I climbed it.  And climbed.  I found myself in serene forests and rocky hills with amazing views.  My new favorite spot is quite close to town, just enough to hear donkeys and chickens.  My hike was about 3 hours total, though I wrote for part of it and rested as well; I got dizzy and nauseous towards the end from eating too little, working too hard, and drinking too much too fast. 

                I have school again before too long and I am dreading it.  I don’t like the idea of dreading going to work.  If I don’t like a job, I quit.  But I need to give this job more time to find my niche, and I’m probably just dreading having to waking up before noon or something.  I’m actually mostly sure that most of my distaste for tomorrow involves waking up and getting ready.  I only own four “school” outfits and my curling iron broke.  I feel very plain.

                It’s probably also worth mentioning that dirtbikes and horses can be found around the streets of Montellano, and in the hills.  As I was coming back to my house, I passed a few bikers and realized everyone I’ve seen has been a guy.  I suddenly realized that I can get away with not wearing heels everywhere (I know how ironic this is since I wore heels EVERYWHERE in the US.  I just need to buy some here,) but I’m not sure I can get away with wandering into the woods at leisure.  I feel more and more like Katniss as I now take a pack with me, and I’m feeling half-ashamed that I care somewhat about whether or not I’m considered ladylike.  I’m working on finding out what is socially appropriate here.  I like the dresses and heels all Spanish women seem to wear, and I wear dresses/skirts every day, but my knees will always be scraped or bruised, and I’ll pass on sitting for coffee; I’d rather be on a horse or dirtbike.  In heels.

A Few Things About Spain

As written in my journal last weekend:

After one week as a tourist and one week as a teacher, I find it requisite that I explain the main things I have observed in my short experience in this place.

1) The Food

     My school gives me (and only me) lunch while I'm here.  And that's not a mere ham sandwich.  As lunch is the biggest meal, the portions they give me are bigger than I can eat in a day.  I get a loaf of bread and some sort of soup (brown lentil stew is my favorite so far, gazpacho has a lot of vinegar, and my least favorite is creamed potatoes with chicken broth.)  Course 3 is typically a plate food such as potato salad, course 4 is meat, plain and simple, course 5 is fruit, an apple or a pear, and course 6 is dessert.

     The soup is about 3 cups worth and is packed with protein.  The next course has rice, potato salad, etc, about 1-1 1/2 cups.  Today I had 4 meatballs which each had to be managed by being cut into four pieces.

     Before school, my Spanish food was limited to gambas (shrimp.)  My school director approached me today and said if I want more food, they can send dinner home with me too.  It has previously been assumed that I don't like the food, but I really just strugle with the portions.  And the cream of carrot stew.  I've finished two pork chops in one sitting, but I don't know if I can handle a bowl of creamed carrot stew.  Meanwhile, my home diet consists of eggs, rice, and yogurt, but what I've found here is that all my food (with the exception of the occasional bag of chips or other dessert) serves the primary function of nourishing and to satisfy is a secondary function.  Yes it's social and delicious, but food here does not seem to be robbed of its basic goodness.

2)Modesty

     Being a preschool teacher has shocked me into a great many things.  Within my school, there is a bathroom where boys and girls all go pee-pee in the same big room together with the door open.  My 5-year-olds are in skirts, so panties can be seen basically always.  In the room with three toilets and three sinks and no doors, tiny boys and girls regularly expose themselves to one another.

     I can't say for sure, but I expect that preschools in the US don't function this way, that little girls are at least told to cover up more (that is to say, ever.)  I speculate that in American schools, children don't hold hands and kiss cheeks (without being romantic) throughout elementary school.

     I do know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that one male teacher herds toddlers along by grabbing little bums.  I also saw said male (PE) teacher somewhere between in and out of the older girls' bathroom while his students were presumably changing.  One eight-year-old-or-so was not presently wearing a shirt.  Even I was stunned by this scene (the teacher wasn't looking at her, but was still standing next to her.)  But I was clear across the courtyard--nobody was hiding anything; apparently this was normal.  And today one of my fourth graders used the no-door, three-toilet pee-pee room.  No big deal.

     Something happens to these shameless children over the years: they become shameless adults.  Specifically, their appearances reflect an attitude that sexuality should neither be flaunted nor stifled.  Women here typically cover shoulders and knees, much more so than in Utah.  Blousy shirts tend to be a touch see-through, but always in the most conservative way possible, not paired with ostentatious bras but neutral colors.

     While a lot of the clothing is just that little bit away from being garment friendly for whatever reason, the real impact is modesty of attitude.  There is just no appeal here for the word "sexy."  I hear "beautiful" a lot but never "sexy."  I even saw a lingerie store in Seville whose front window featured garment-friendly nightgowns.  I appreciate the attitude of "sex happens.  Get over it.  And let's not share it with the whole world, eh?"

3) The Accent in Andalucia

     Five points for anyone who can correctly pronounce Andalucia!  In preparing for my move, I was very eager to learn Castilian Spanish.  The concept of Usted just seemed more formal and elagant to me than American Spanish.  But when I got my assignment to the South, warnings began trickling in about the accent.  "Watch out for the lithp!" they joked.  A friend and I even randomly shouted "Ethpana!" in excitement.

     However, this is far from what I found.  My agent and I had a road trip of sorts and his perfect English couldn’t compete with my then accent-deaf ears.  He explained that Thada is a cheap store and I need to go to the beach in Carith.  It took me a while to realize he was talking about Zara and Cadiz (D and R often sound similar.)  It took me four tries to hear an English teacher’s name correctly, and that’s because she translated it for me.  “Hope.”  Oh, yes.  Esperanza, or, in her case, Ethperantha, which is actually prettier in my opinion.  But I quickly looked up when to use the Spanish I was taught and when to use the “th.”  OK, replace Z and C with “th.”  Jereth.  Grathias.  Got it.

     Or so I thought.  One day, passing several people on the street, my “hola”s were met with people saying “Buena.”  BUENA???  Isn’t it buenas dias?  Crap.  Did they change to Buena dia?  One day, not many?  Hmm…so now I say “buena.”  It wasn’t until later in the week that I discovered what was causing my dilemma. I watched “Just like heaven” in Spanish (complete with the lisp.)  I couldn’t figure out why they were talking to other adults as if it were usted, but using “tu”.  I then recalled several adults asking children things like “que quiere” and other unholy phrases to be saying to ninos.  The use of tu mixed with usted? How?  Then I realized that around here, apparently we don’t say “s” at the end of a word.  We’ll say z and call it a “th,” but not s.

     This would fall under the category of “difficult accent” (such as teaching “bracelet” instead of “brathelette” or “Spain” instead of “espain”) except that it obliterates any hop of grammar one may have.  I can put two and two together when it comes to number (do minute is still two minutes; with you so far,) but when it comes to verb endings, I might as well run around shouting “Yo quiero Taco Bell” all day.  Seriously.  I can’t tell if people are talking to tu or usted, which causes some potentially large problems.  I hear no difference between the two for basic verbs.

4) The Hours

     School starts at 9 am, which is really quite early (that’s when bakeries and markets typically open—or later) and goes til 2.  2-4 is lunch-ish time.  I have classes from 4-8pm.  After 8 is shopping time, including groceries.  I do this because the shops are closed during my lunch break.  Dinner is around 10, and bedtime around 12.  Then school starts at 9.

     Weekends are different.  Many bars and restaurants are open on weekends only, and they open around 10 pm.  On Fridays, they stay open til 3 am, Saturdays til 4 am and I don’t recall them being open at all on Sundays.

5)Society

     Like the weather, the people here are warm.  They will stand dangerously close to me and talk faster than I ever imagined human beings could.  They all say hola and Buena in the streets in passing and are eager to help the foreigner who speaks slow and broken Spanish.

     Outside Montellano, in the city Sevilla, dogs and children alike wander at leisure.  Of course, they’re never far from their parents, but they are expected to play and socialize.  Parents, of course, set the example by frequenting bars and cafes.  Children also join in bar attendance; they just drink water (which, by the way, often costs about the price of a beer.)

     I’ve heard that the most important thing to remember in Spain is “No te preocupe.”  Don’t worry.  Here, we don’t worry.  We don’t stress.  We are happy.