So, the Spain adventure is basically over. In the past month, I haven´t written much for a variety of reasons. Mostly, because I found lots of things to do in Spain, and out of Spain, and didn´t have time. Also, because my access to internet has been sparse and sporadic, and so when I go to write an entry I end up spending most of my time cursing under my breath so the kids I teach won´t hear (and more importantly, repeat) all the bad things I am saying while I watch the ¨beach ball of death" spin around on my mac as it searches endlessly for the elusive internet connection.
In honor of my time here, I am starting a partial list of things I love about Spain.
1) Drinking - people in spain have a great attitude about drinking. They do it wherever, whenever, and no one gives them a look. My host parents are around 45 years old, parents to three youngsters, and one of the only framed pictures of them in the house is a photo of them looking a little tipsy at a disco, my host dad´s grey hair illuminated by the red flashing disco lights. It sits next to their formal dining table. At new years, did the Goverment use hard earned tax dollars to pay cops to check people´s bags and confiscate liquor bottles as you entered the square where the new years countdown happens? Claro que no. They used the good spanish people´s tax dollars to buy thousands of giant plastic cups (more or less 40 ounces) to hand out to people so they could pour their liquor into a less dangerous container and continue drinking. The police also recycled the empty liquor bottles subsequently. ingenious.
2) Siesta.
I don´t need to say a lot to defend my embracement of this cultural phenomenon. Its just genius. Instead of stealing a rest in the empty cubicle after a carb laden lunch, hoping your boss wont find you, or trying to master the art of sleeping while keeping your eyes open at the inevitable and inhumane after-lunch meetings, the Spanish just say, por dios, let them go home and sleep in their hard, european, tiny beds. Its amazing. (p to the s, I´m too tall for beds in spain.). Just think. If the U.S. endorsed siestas then all of those afternoons in college when I went Spanish and siesta-ed during my afternoon classes, I might have been happy, rested and in better standing with the University. Perhaps I should petition to have my grades changed citing discrimination against my adoptive culture.
more later...hasta prontisimo!
Friday, January 9, 2009
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Cabin Fever
WARNING: This posting has essentially nothing to do with Spain and is a sorry excuse to broadcast my own frivolous complaints.
Its been raining for 3 days in Spain.
I hate rain. I really really really hate rain. Here is why. First of all, it is generally cold. And before you start, don't go waxing poetic on warm rains. I have issues with those too. Just you wait. But the cold is the first problem. With rain, its not just regular cold. Its the bone chilling, doesn't-even-get-better-inside cold because you are usually wet and therefore remain cold even after coming in from the rain.
Second, rain is messy. You can't avoid it. Umbrellas really only keep the top third of you dry. Don't lecture me about those massive umbrellas, either. Last I checked, umbrellas don't shelter your feet. Puddles know no boundaries. And yes, I have heard of rainboots, but really, who wears those unless they expect the rain ahead of time and have a satisfactorily attractive pair so that they don't feel like a complete idiot walking around? I for one, refuse to fork over 120 dollars to j crew for a pair of "wellies" that i will only wear 5 or fewer times a year. Plus, unless you also own the houndstooth jumper, patterned leggings and fashionable rain coat to go with them, they probably still look ridiculous. (And J Crew? Wellies? Really? You aren't British.) And frankly, if I expect the rain ahead of time, I'm probably just going to avoid going outside period unless absolutely necessary.
I digress. Back to the messiness issue. When it rains endlessly for days like it has been here, you always end up with the bottom two inches of your pants soaking wet. If that weren't bad (and cold) enough, the added weight from the water usually means that unless your pants are made out of a rain slicker, they are going to stretch, leaving you with 3 extra inches of wet, stretched out pant for you to step on as you walk through the soaked streets. So there you are: cold, wet and looking like one of those angst ridden teens who wear pants so long that you can barely see the toes of their shiny eggplant-colored doc martens.
Oh, and when it rains there is usually backsplash when you walk so the lower half of the back of your pant ends up stained with muddy splash marks.
And wet sneakers smell worse than a wet mangy dog. Might as well just throw them out.
Alright you warm rain lovers, on to you. I will admit that warm rains are the less evil cousin of cold rains. But warm rains still have the messiness factor. but whats worse is that even if you predict the warm rains, you cant even prepare for them in the same way. Nothing worse than sweating under your raincoat. Those puppies do not breathe. And, post-rain, its usually very humid which means even if you were fortunate enough to have an umbrella on you, your hair is still going to look bad. (If this isn't a problem for you you are probably one of those free, fun loving spirits who doesn't mind if their hair gets messed up or you are one of those lucky punks whose hair looks good all the time without using a straightener, blow dryer or curling iron. if its the former, fine I'm shallow, sue me. If its the latter, you're a b*tch and were in a fight.)
Ok I know this is supposed to be about Spain, so I'm throwing you a bone:
Top 5 things to do when it rains in Madrid:
1) Museums: Check out the Reina Sofia for an astonishing collection of Picasso and Dali, and if you don't like his melting clocks and disfigured faces, learn about his less delusional early years of painting portraits of manly women, mostly from behind.
2) Take shelter in a cerveceria and enjoy witnessing the business lunch crowd openly drink during the workday. Join them.
3) Put on your reading glasses, grab a novel, order a full-fat cappuccino and hole up in a cafe. Pretend your Hemingway (sans substance abuse. or whatever.)
4) Stay home and watch a telenovela on TV. They use glycerin to make it look like they are crying and they are so melodramatic that you dont need to speak the language to understand.
5) Write a pissy blog post about rain.
Its been raining for 3 days in Spain.
I hate rain. I really really really hate rain. Here is why. First of all, it is generally cold. And before you start, don't go waxing poetic on warm rains. I have issues with those too. Just you wait. But the cold is the first problem. With rain, its not just regular cold. Its the bone chilling, doesn't-even-get-better-inside cold because you are usually wet and therefore remain cold even after coming in from the rain.
Second, rain is messy. You can't avoid it. Umbrellas really only keep the top third of you dry. Don't lecture me about those massive umbrellas, either. Last I checked, umbrellas don't shelter your feet. Puddles know no boundaries. And yes, I have heard of rainboots, but really, who wears those unless they expect the rain ahead of time and have a satisfactorily attractive pair so that they don't feel like a complete idiot walking around? I for one, refuse to fork over 120 dollars to j crew for a pair of "wellies" that i will only wear 5 or fewer times a year. Plus, unless you also own the houndstooth jumper, patterned leggings and fashionable rain coat to go with them, they probably still look ridiculous. (And J Crew? Wellies? Really? You aren't British.) And frankly, if I expect the rain ahead of time, I'm probably just going to avoid going outside period unless absolutely necessary.
I digress. Back to the messiness issue. When it rains endlessly for days like it has been here, you always end up with the bottom two inches of your pants soaking wet. If that weren't bad (and cold) enough, the added weight from the water usually means that unless your pants are made out of a rain slicker, they are going to stretch, leaving you with 3 extra inches of wet, stretched out pant for you to step on as you walk through the soaked streets. So there you are: cold, wet and looking like one of those angst ridden teens who wear pants so long that you can barely see the toes of their shiny eggplant-colored doc martens.
Oh, and when it rains there is usually backsplash when you walk so the lower half of the back of your pant ends up stained with muddy splash marks.
And wet sneakers smell worse than a wet mangy dog. Might as well just throw them out.
Alright you warm rain lovers, on to you. I will admit that warm rains are the less evil cousin of cold rains. But warm rains still have the messiness factor. but whats worse is that even if you predict the warm rains, you cant even prepare for them in the same way. Nothing worse than sweating under your raincoat. Those puppies do not breathe. And, post-rain, its usually very humid which means even if you were fortunate enough to have an umbrella on you, your hair is still going to look bad. (If this isn't a problem for you you are probably one of those free, fun loving spirits who doesn't mind if their hair gets messed up or you are one of those lucky punks whose hair looks good all the time without using a straightener, blow dryer or curling iron. if its the former, fine I'm shallow, sue me. If its the latter, you're a b*tch and were in a fight.)
Ok I know this is supposed to be about Spain, so I'm throwing you a bone:
Top 5 things to do when it rains in Madrid:
1) Museums: Check out the Reina Sofia for an astonishing collection of Picasso and Dali, and if you don't like his melting clocks and disfigured faces, learn about his less delusional early years of painting portraits of manly women, mostly from behind.
2) Take shelter in a cerveceria and enjoy witnessing the business lunch crowd openly drink during the workday. Join them.
3) Put on your reading glasses, grab a novel, order a full-fat cappuccino and hole up in a cafe. Pretend your Hemingway (sans substance abuse. or whatever.)
4) Stay home and watch a telenovela on TV. They use glycerin to make it look like they are crying and they are so melodramatic that you dont need to speak the language to understand.
5) Write a pissy blog post about rain.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Random rants and observations...
Ok, so here are some random observations about Spain:
1) They don't have dryers here. So, they hang everything out on the line and then iron it. Also, lots of families have live-in nannies, who do the ironing everyday, as there is a lot of it to do when you hang everything out on the line. This translates to very little privacy. If you weren't satisfied by everyone in the neighborhood seeing your assortment of thongs hanging out the family window, then you will likely be humiliated when your underwear are then ironed and neatly folded by the 50 year old nanny. I would not share this kind of information with my own mother. Yet, all of northern Madrid and my host family know the contents of my underwear drawer. Freaky.
Word to the wise: if you plan a similar trip, learn this simple, perhaps not grammatically accurate but functional, phrase: "Gracias, pero tu no necesitas planchar mi ropa interior." Translation: "its not necessary for you to iron my underwear."
2) Soon I will post a picture of some of the parking offenses I have observed here. The cars are all very compact, and therefore fit into extremely small spaces. You find cars parked in the most unlikely places, such as in the four feet of space between a car and the corner of a street when a car hasnt quite pulled up to the end...another car will just back in, with the back of the car against the sidewalk, perpendicular to the flow of traffic. Also, you can parallel park in whatever direction you want, it seems. Facing with the flow of traffic, against, whatever strikes your fancy. This could come in handy if you say, are blind in one eye or have a pinched nerve that prevents you from looking left. Other than that, I ask, why not park the proper direction? And if you do have one of the aforementioned ailments, should you really be driving? is that safe?
3) I was recently robbed on the subway. I was taking all precautions that they recommend to tourists to guard my belongings when it happened. (Apparently, I don't blend well) I had a hidden zipper purse that fits under my shoulder. I would like to add an addendum to said rule:
A tall blonde tourist who speaks English should carry a purse that fits under her shoulder with a hidden zipper made of steel or other impenetrable material.
The crazy b*tch cut a hole in my purse, made off with my wallet and camera. How skillful is that?
And, she used my credit card immediately, which meant that I had to go to the police station and file a report. Nothing like being confronted with spanish legal jargon to take the wind out of your sails about your quickly improving spanish skills. The policeman thought I was an idiot.
Incidentally, I'm now more upset about my camera. I mean, my facebook profile is going to suck. Que mal suerte.
Anyone know where I can buy a metal briefcase in Madrid?
1) They don't have dryers here. So, they hang everything out on the line and then iron it. Also, lots of families have live-in nannies, who do the ironing everyday, as there is a lot of it to do when you hang everything out on the line. This translates to very little privacy. If you weren't satisfied by everyone in the neighborhood seeing your assortment of thongs hanging out the family window, then you will likely be humiliated when your underwear are then ironed and neatly folded by the 50 year old nanny. I would not share this kind of information with my own mother. Yet, all of northern Madrid and my host family know the contents of my underwear drawer. Freaky.
Word to the wise: if you plan a similar trip, learn this simple, perhaps not grammatically accurate but functional, phrase: "Gracias, pero tu no necesitas planchar mi ropa interior." Translation: "its not necessary for you to iron my underwear."
2) Soon I will post a picture of some of the parking offenses I have observed here. The cars are all very compact, and therefore fit into extremely small spaces. You find cars parked in the most unlikely places, such as in the four feet of space between a car and the corner of a street when a car hasnt quite pulled up to the end...another car will just back in, with the back of the car against the sidewalk, perpendicular to the flow of traffic. Also, you can parallel park in whatever direction you want, it seems. Facing with the flow of traffic, against, whatever strikes your fancy. This could come in handy if you say, are blind in one eye or have a pinched nerve that prevents you from looking left. Other than that, I ask, why not park the proper direction? And if you do have one of the aforementioned ailments, should you really be driving? is that safe?
3) I was recently robbed on the subway. I was taking all precautions that they recommend to tourists to guard my belongings when it happened. (Apparently, I don't blend well) I had a hidden zipper purse that fits under my shoulder. I would like to add an addendum to said rule:
A tall blonde tourist who speaks English should carry a purse that fits under her shoulder with a hidden zipper made of steel or other impenetrable material.
The crazy b*tch cut a hole in my purse, made off with my wallet and camera. How skillful is that?
And, she used my credit card immediately, which meant that I had to go to the police station and file a report. Nothing like being confronted with spanish legal jargon to take the wind out of your sails about your quickly improving spanish skills. The policeman thought I was an idiot.
Incidentally, I'm now more upset about my camera. I mean, my facebook profile is going to suck. Que mal suerte.
Anyone know where I can buy a metal briefcase in Madrid?
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Less Blogs = More Fun
So I haven't updated in awhile. This is because I sort of got a life and no longer have time to write about every little thing that happens to me. That's a good thing.
However, there are some funny things that have happened to me recently. Let's see...
I went to Berlin 2 weeks ago. If you know me at all, you probably know that I have literally the worst travel luck ever. Seriously. You know how you will always remember that one time you got stuck in a freak snowstorm on Christmas eve and missed your plane home, or the time you got stranded in Nowhere, Indiana in a seedy motel? Well, I do not remember these types of experiences. Why? Because its happened to me so many times, I literally can't distinguish the memories from each other. (this might have something to do with the fact that I'm from New Mexico and am frequently trying to fly there over holidays, etc. I love New Mexico, but there is literally no reason to go there unless you live there. Think about it. Why would you need to connect through Albuquerque? Its a convenient stop to nowhere. The only possible way it could be of use is if youre going to Mexico, and in that case, Pheonix and Dallas pretty much have that covered.)
Anyway, this time was no different. I got to the airport smoothly on Friday afternoon, checked in...(all in spanish, I was quite proud). I even bought a trashy magazine for 5 euro (~6 dollars) in the airport bookstore because I was so excited to see an American magazine, I didn't care how much it cost. Anyway, I get to my gate and....wait. And wait. And wait some more.
Turns out it was snowing in Prague, where I had to connect through. So we boarded about 45 minutes late, and then waited on the runway for another 45 minutes. My connection in Prague was only an hour layover. I was getting nervous. However, it was only 2 pm, so I figured there would probably be another flight to Berlin that night.
Why I was so optimistic, considering my prior history, I have no idea. I got to Prague to discover that my flight to Berlin was the last of the night. Great. Anyway, the Czech people are very nice and they put me up in a Marriott hotel and paid for my meals. (The paid-for meal, by the way, was hysterical. The voucher said to go to the dining room at the hotel. I did, as did a few other stranded passengers. The restaurant was fairly swanky. The waiters were very polite and friendly, until we showed them the voucher. Their faces fell, and they silently went to the back and pulled out several identical plates of meat and potatoes that looked like they had been sitting there for about 6 hours. We were feeding out of the slop tray. It was pretty hysterical.)
Anyway, after my odd dinner, I decided to make the most of my trip and caught a bus into old town Prague and gave myself a mini tour. It was fun. I wandered around, took some pictures and then warmed up in a little wine bar that specializes in Moravian wines. Moravian wines, as it were, are not very good. However, I made friends with the owner, who was thrilled to have an opportunity to practice his English. It was a good time, all in all.
I did finally get to Berlin the next morning, where my friend Sheri was waiting for me, which was lovely. (The poor girl had spent two hours the night before i the airport looking for me, but since her cell phone is american and mine is spanish, getting a hold of each other in the Czech Republic and Germany was, well, a little short of impossible.) We had a fabulous weekend touring around Berlin and hanging out with her friends from a summer internship she did in Berlin. We learned some valuable lessons as well. I.E. its freezing in Germany and most people use heat sparingly. Heed my warning...pack sweaters. And socks. Lots of them. And if all else fails, meaning you packed for the weather to be about 20 degrees warmer, order a beer...they are HUGE.
However, there are some funny things that have happened to me recently. Let's see...
I went to Berlin 2 weeks ago. If you know me at all, you probably know that I have literally the worst travel luck ever. Seriously. You know how you will always remember that one time you got stuck in a freak snowstorm on Christmas eve and missed your plane home, or the time you got stranded in Nowhere, Indiana in a seedy motel? Well, I do not remember these types of experiences. Why? Because its happened to me so many times, I literally can't distinguish the memories from each other. (this might have something to do with the fact that I'm from New Mexico and am frequently trying to fly there over holidays, etc. I love New Mexico, but there is literally no reason to go there unless you live there. Think about it. Why would you need to connect through Albuquerque? Its a convenient stop to nowhere. The only possible way it could be of use is if youre going to Mexico, and in that case, Pheonix and Dallas pretty much have that covered.)
Anyway, this time was no different. I got to the airport smoothly on Friday afternoon, checked in...(all in spanish, I was quite proud). I even bought a trashy magazine for 5 euro (~6 dollars) in the airport bookstore because I was so excited to see an American magazine, I didn't care how much it cost. Anyway, I get to my gate and....wait. And wait. And wait some more.
Turns out it was snowing in Prague, where I had to connect through. So we boarded about 45 minutes late, and then waited on the runway for another 45 minutes. My connection in Prague was only an hour layover. I was getting nervous. However, it was only 2 pm, so I figured there would probably be another flight to Berlin that night.
Why I was so optimistic, considering my prior history, I have no idea. I got to Prague to discover that my flight to Berlin was the last of the night. Great. Anyway, the Czech people are very nice and they put me up in a Marriott hotel and paid for my meals. (The paid-for meal, by the way, was hysterical. The voucher said to go to the dining room at the hotel. I did, as did a few other stranded passengers. The restaurant was fairly swanky. The waiters were very polite and friendly, until we showed them the voucher. Their faces fell, and they silently went to the back and pulled out several identical plates of meat and potatoes that looked like they had been sitting there for about 6 hours. We were feeding out of the slop tray. It was pretty hysterical.)
Anyway, after my odd dinner, I decided to make the most of my trip and caught a bus into old town Prague and gave myself a mini tour. It was fun. I wandered around, took some pictures and then warmed up in a little wine bar that specializes in Moravian wines. Moravian wines, as it were, are not very good. However, I made friends with the owner, who was thrilled to have an opportunity to practice his English. It was a good time, all in all.
I did finally get to Berlin the next morning, where my friend Sheri was waiting for me, which was lovely. (The poor girl had spent two hours the night before i the airport looking for me, but since her cell phone is american and mine is spanish, getting a hold of each other in the Czech Republic and Germany was, well, a little short of impossible.) We had a fabulous weekend touring around Berlin and hanging out with her friends from a summer internship she did in Berlin. We learned some valuable lessons as well. I.E. its freezing in Germany and most people use heat sparingly. Heed my warning...pack sweaters. And socks. Lots of them. And if all else fails, meaning you packed for the weather to be about 20 degrees warmer, order a beer...they are HUGE.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Culture "Shock"
So, I'm not really that into science.
Its never really been a problem for me before. I could always avoid it. In high school, I went out of my way to take the least science-like science classes. (If anyone remembers senior physics with the cartoon drawings of people going up a mountain and movie fridays, you know what I'm saying.) In college, I waited until the very last second to fulfill my science requirement, finally consenting to take environmental studies and doing embarrassingly terrible in it, despite the fact that it was literally the easiest class on the register. My mother was a chemistry major, and my sister is a doctor. The way I figure it, when genes were getting passed down, some split evenly between two sisters, and some go exclusively to one or the other. For example, she got all the scientific ability, neatness and patience genes. Its a convenient excuse.
I digress. Anyway, the point is, I was never good at science. I am supposed to be sort of good, however, at English. Being that I am currently employed as an English tutor and I was previously employed as an English teacher, I should know the difference between the words "adapter" and "converter."
As in "plug adapter" vs. "voltage converter."
You can probably tell where this story is going. But let me just say, I think it is cruel and frankly, immoral to sell a plug adapter. Do you know what a plug adapter does? It "adapts" your appliance so that it is physically able to fit into the socket that its not meant for. It then "adapts" your appliance into flames and then "adapts" your ability to turn on any power in your familia's house. An "adapter" is the dumbest thing ever invented. You can put it on the end of any old robust american appliance, and it enables you to shove that beast of an appliance into the unsuspecting walls of a country that has far more concern for the earth's environment than Americans do and only accepts half the voltage output of said beast. Let me make you a list of appliances that do not "adapt" well:
1) Blow dryers
2) hair straighteners
3) curling irons
Apparently, Spain wants me to have a 2 month long bad hair day.
(I would like to mention, however, that although this is a prime example of the United States' extreme overconsumption problem, I really appreciate the fact that a blow dryer in the United States can dry my hair in half the time these puny euro dryers can. I visibly age waiting for my hair to dry here.)
So, let me summarize for you all my English and Science interdisciplinary lesson for the day:
Adapter: allows you to connect
Converter: allows you to connect without flames.
Earlier today I drug out the aforementioned 3 appliances and attempted to use them for the first time. My blow dryer sparked, made a loud popping noise and then all the power went out. With the help of the housekeeper and a spanish-english dictionary (to look up fuse...its fusible in case you were wondering), I located the fuse box and turned the power back on. Then, I decided to test out my other appliances, just for good measure. I plugged in the straightener. Nothing went black. I was pleased. I sat down and waited for it to heat up. Moments later, it got very hot. When it lit on fire. Not kidding. The curling iron was the third experiment, which lasted 30 seconds as I noticed the power light flicker immediately. Luckily, I was able to unplug it before I had to use my spanish english dictionary to look up "fire extinguisher" en espanol.
So, thats the story of how I learned the principals of electricity.
Unfortunately, my science lesson is not going to be immediately applicable as I no longer have any functioning american appliances with which to use a voltage converter, even if i could figure out how to track one down. (Ironically, adapters are much more common. Maybe Spanish emergency services need more to do) Instead, I will have to buy all new appliances with european plugs.
Or have bad hair for two months.
Take a guess on which way I'm leaning.
Its never really been a problem for me before. I could always avoid it. In high school, I went out of my way to take the least science-like science classes. (If anyone remembers senior physics with the cartoon drawings of people going up a mountain and movie fridays, you know what I'm saying.) In college, I waited until the very last second to fulfill my science requirement, finally consenting to take environmental studies and doing embarrassingly terrible in it, despite the fact that it was literally the easiest class on the register. My mother was a chemistry major, and my sister is a doctor. The way I figure it, when genes were getting passed down, some split evenly between two sisters, and some go exclusively to one or the other. For example, she got all the scientific ability, neatness and patience genes. Its a convenient excuse.
I digress. Anyway, the point is, I was never good at science. I am supposed to be sort of good, however, at English. Being that I am currently employed as an English tutor and I was previously employed as an English teacher, I should know the difference between the words "adapter" and "converter."
As in "plug adapter" vs. "voltage converter."
You can probably tell where this story is going. But let me just say, I think it is cruel and frankly, immoral to sell a plug adapter. Do you know what a plug adapter does? It "adapts" your appliance so that it is physically able to fit into the socket that its not meant for. It then "adapts" your appliance into flames and then "adapts" your ability to turn on any power in your familia's house. An "adapter" is the dumbest thing ever invented. You can put it on the end of any old robust american appliance, and it enables you to shove that beast of an appliance into the unsuspecting walls of a country that has far more concern for the earth's environment than Americans do and only accepts half the voltage output of said beast. Let me make you a list of appliances that do not "adapt" well:
1) Blow dryers
2) hair straighteners
3) curling irons
Apparently, Spain wants me to have a 2 month long bad hair day.
(I would like to mention, however, that although this is a prime example of the United States' extreme overconsumption problem, I really appreciate the fact that a blow dryer in the United States can dry my hair in half the time these puny euro dryers can. I visibly age waiting for my hair to dry here.)
So, let me summarize for you all my English and Science interdisciplinary lesson for the day:
Adapter: allows you to connect
Converter: allows you to connect without flames.
Earlier today I drug out the aforementioned 3 appliances and attempted to use them for the first time. My blow dryer sparked, made a loud popping noise and then all the power went out. With the help of the housekeeper and a spanish-english dictionary (to look up fuse...its fusible in case you were wondering), I located the fuse box and turned the power back on. Then, I decided to test out my other appliances, just for good measure. I plugged in the straightener. Nothing went black. I was pleased. I sat down and waited for it to heat up. Moments later, it got very hot. When it lit on fire. Not kidding. The curling iron was the third experiment, which lasted 30 seconds as I noticed the power light flicker immediately. Luckily, I was able to unplug it before I had to use my spanish english dictionary to look up "fire extinguisher" en espanol.
So, thats the story of how I learned the principals of electricity.
Unfortunately, my science lesson is not going to be immediately applicable as I no longer have any functioning american appliances with which to use a voltage converter, even if i could figure out how to track one down. (Ironically, adapters are much more common. Maybe Spanish emergency services need more to do) Instead, I will have to buy all new appliances with european plugs.
Or have bad hair for two months.
Take a guess on which way I'm leaning.
Monday, November 10, 2008
At least I'd be one of the cuter grandmas out there...
If you were worried about me, dont fear. I've gotten my sh*t together and started exploring Spain. On saturday I not only was able to get myself into town, but I bought a cell phone...with an alarm clock...great success!
Saturday night I went out with a few people I've met. Good lord people go out late here. We didnt get to the bar until 130 am, and at 5 am there was no sign that the party was stopping. I asked one of the girls I was with, and she was like, oh, we just stay out until the metro reopens at like 6 or 630.
For christ's sake. I have never been the grandma of a group before, but this might have to be my loser debut. I haven't stayed out that late since, well, I dont know when. I think there was a brief moment during my freshman or sophomore year of college where I used to do things like that, but let's be honest, eventually sleep wins out. Recently, if I stay out past 2 am, I risk face planting into a bar from pure exhaustion. Spanish people must have a special gene that allows them to party around the clock. It's astounding.
Speaking of unique genes of spanish people, can we talk about how they eat greasy, delicious food all the time, get wrecked on wine regularly and stay rail thin? Its insane! My host mom has had 3 kids and she could be penelope cruz's body double. No one exercizes, either. I have gone for a few runs here, and people look at me like I'm insane. The housekeeper laughed at me and told me people probably think I'm running from the cops. Oh lord.
Ah, anyway, I'm at home planning lessons for the week. The 8 year old is learning how to talk about the weather in english. The 12 year old boy is reading sports articles from the newspaper in english. The 4 year old refuses to do anything if it doesnt involve drawing or Dora the Explorer, so she and I are learning the words of her favorite foods and activities, while drawing the pictures, obvi.
Alright, well I'm off. I'm going to invite public mocking while I go for a run. I hope someone doesnt think I'm a bank robber and tackle me. I don't speak enough spanish to explain it to them....
Saturday night I went out with a few people I've met. Good lord people go out late here. We didnt get to the bar until 130 am, and at 5 am there was no sign that the party was stopping. I asked one of the girls I was with, and she was like, oh, we just stay out until the metro reopens at like 6 or 630.
For christ's sake. I have never been the grandma of a group before, but this might have to be my loser debut. I haven't stayed out that late since, well, I dont know when. I think there was a brief moment during my freshman or sophomore year of college where I used to do things like that, but let's be honest, eventually sleep wins out. Recently, if I stay out past 2 am, I risk face planting into a bar from pure exhaustion. Spanish people must have a special gene that allows them to party around the clock. It's astounding.
Speaking of unique genes of spanish people, can we talk about how they eat greasy, delicious food all the time, get wrecked on wine regularly and stay rail thin? Its insane! My host mom has had 3 kids and she could be penelope cruz's body double. No one exercizes, either. I have gone for a few runs here, and people look at me like I'm insane. The housekeeper laughed at me and told me people probably think I'm running from the cops. Oh lord.
Ah, anyway, I'm at home planning lessons for the week. The 8 year old is learning how to talk about the weather in english. The 12 year old boy is reading sports articles from the newspaper in english. The 4 year old refuses to do anything if it doesnt involve drawing or Dora the Explorer, so she and I are learning the words of her favorite foods and activities, while drawing the pictures, obvi.
Alright, well I'm off. I'm going to invite public mocking while I go for a run. I hope someone doesnt think I'm a bank robber and tackle me. I don't speak enough spanish to explain it to them....
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Seriously?
Life can be difficult sometimes. Like when you are in a foreign country and have no money and no one will help you. I went to 4 different banks today, trying to figure out how to remedy my bank situation. People were not altogether that helpful. One lady actually scowled at me. Granted, my spanish isn't really strong and I was talking about banking issues, not exactly vocabulary I'm familiar with, so she was probably frustrated with me, but I was doing my best. 5 different bank chicas told me there was nothing they could do. I was ready to cry.
Then it dawned on me.
Chicos.
Spanish men like young, american women so much better than spanish women. Shocking. I went to a Argentinean bank and found a 25 year old guy who spoke un poquito de ingles. My new friend Ivan opened a student checking account for me despite the fact that I am not a student and I will not have any money to put in it for a few days, is even ordering a bank card for me and is helping me transfer money. Te amo Ivan.
I also met another language tutor today. She is the language tutor for the family of my host mom's sister. They live across the street. Everyone calls her "la otra Americana," which means the other American girl. They keep saying "Llama a la otra Americana!"
La otra Americana is Australian. Go figure.
Anyway, tomorrow, assuming Ivan and I get this little dinero situation worked out, tomorrow I am going to try to get a cell phone and an alarm clock. Cell phone for obvious reasons. Alarm clock because people in Spain get their days started very early and then everything closes at 230 in the afternoon. Years of experience tells me that there is no way I will wake up at 7 am without an alarm clock. Therefore, without one, I will be eating breakfast around the time stores close and people go home for the day and I will miss Spain entirely.
So, its been a bit of a rocky start, and until I get the funding situation worked out, my activity level is low, but things seem to be picking up. Hopefully my next post will be about something other than banking. Lo siento.
Then it dawned on me.
Chicos.
Spanish men like young, american women so much better than spanish women. Shocking. I went to a Argentinean bank and found a 25 year old guy who spoke un poquito de ingles. My new friend Ivan opened a student checking account for me despite the fact that I am not a student and I will not have any money to put in it for a few days, is even ordering a bank card for me and is helping me transfer money. Te amo Ivan.
I also met another language tutor today. She is the language tutor for the family of my host mom's sister. They live across the street. Everyone calls her "la otra Americana," which means the other American girl. They keep saying "Llama a la otra Americana!"
La otra Americana is Australian. Go figure.
Anyway, tomorrow, assuming Ivan and I get this little dinero situation worked out, tomorrow I am going to try to get a cell phone and an alarm clock. Cell phone for obvious reasons. Alarm clock because people in Spain get their days started very early and then everything closes at 230 in the afternoon. Years of experience tells me that there is no way I will wake up at 7 am without an alarm clock. Therefore, without one, I will be eating breakfast around the time stores close and people go home for the day and I will miss Spain entirely.
So, its been a bit of a rocky start, and until I get the funding situation worked out, my activity level is low, but things seem to be picking up. Hopefully my next post will be about something other than banking. Lo siento.
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