The Emerald Isle

Although I could talk all day about my trip to Ireland and the many parallels I saw between the culture there and that of the PNW (Pacific NorthWest), its been hard for me to gather my thoughts and write a blog entry. So, what I decided is to just try and let the videos and pictures more or less speak for themselves. The order is a little scattered but basically what you will see is that Ireland is everything you expect and more...for instance a little nerdy Irish boy clogging for a pubful of adults...

While on the subject of music aka the best thing about Ireland, lets take a little stroll through some clips I have from the pubs in Dublin...

Here's a little peak into what Dublin looks like. This is kind of the touristy pub partying area called Temple Bar...

On the west coast we spent the day walking and picnicking at the Cliffs of Moher and the weather cooperated beautifully...

My surprise to Jesus was that I had bought us tickets for about the equivalency of $65

a piece to the Mid-evil Banquet at Bunratty Castle but my camera's battery was almost dead and I could only get the entrance.  Once inside everyone was dressed in mid-evil garb and there was a violinist and harpist playing in the center of a big room with all the guests gathered round. The servants came around offering a friendship bite of bread and mead (but stronger than what you find in the U.S.).  Then we moved into the dining hall which had maybe 100 guests all sat cozily next to each other at huge, thick, long wooden tables. They served us many courses from soup, to ribs, to roasted potatoes, to chicken with steamed vegetables and LOTS of gravy.  We also were served something similar to cheesecake at the end. The red and white wine was on the table in big pitchers and it just kept comin. Our table was not able to finish ours even with me sitting at it. lol The food was pretty good but the best part for me was that the servers were also singers. They are serving your food and then all the sudden one of them busts out singing like a song bird and then the others chime in and harmonize like a frickin musical. It was feckin fantastic!!!

 Side Note:

Apparently "feckin" is the Irish version of frickin or friggin and is perfectly acceptable on TV, in schools, churches and places of employment. And it feels so feckin good to say it. lol.

Like England, in Ireland they also drive on the left side of the road. It was a bit of a trip at first. You feel like you are going to run people over on the left side. You just feel so close to them. They also drive from the right side of the car.  Here is a tiny clip of us not only driving on the left side but also on the top of a double decker bus from the airport into Dublin.

Here is a short clip of what the many historic buildings in Dublin look like.  Coming from Washington "the evergreen state" and Seattle "the emerald city", I have really missed the green. It was nice for both Juliana, Alesya and I to see green lawns and countryside. We reverted back to being children for a minute, running and leaping all over the lawn at the church. 

Jesus had had this incredible screen saver on his laptop of the library at Trinity College. This sparked some curiosity for me and he had said that would be his top must-see while in Dublin.  Juliana and her sister Aleysa also wanted to see the University so we all went together and decided to eat there in the cafeteria to experience what it might me like to attend that University.  The food was really quite good. A big plate full of hot and hearty steak fries covered in steaming hot, brown gravy served with 2 big grilled sausages for only the equivalent of $5 or so. We were quite happy with our decision to eat there. We also walked all around the campus, spent lots of time in their elaborate university store and Jesus and I went to see the book of Kells and the library which I think costed about $10. That was kinda cool because first there was a museum of acient texts in beautiful celtic-type caligraphy and symbols and then you get to see the gorgeous and historical library.  Right when you walk in you basically get the chills because its so old and there are SO many books in all languages.  Its a weird sensation when you can smell the history in the room. There is this unique smell and chill in the air and the books go from the floor all the way up 2 extremely tall stories'-worth to the ceiling but its all open with ladders to reach the books. Some of the books were so old that it looked as if you tried to turn a page they would disinigrate into dust. I am really glad we got to see it. Juliana and I kept saying, wouldn't it be so cool to get ur Master's here?

Here is a big, scenic park in the middle of the city in Dublin. There were tons of tulips, a huge overfed swan, and seagulls who pretended to be ducks to get food from the people (animal psychology at its finest).

Jesus and I left Dublin to head west which is where we went to the cliffs and had the mid-evil dinner at the castle. We took many buses to maneuver ourselves around southern Ireland. Unfortunately the buses were quite expensive and we spent much more money in transportation than anticipated. Sometimes I thought, "would it be cheaper just to take a taxi to the next town, cuz this has got to be the true definition of highway robbery?" But along the way we saw beautiful green pastures, rolling hills and tons of new born baby lambs clumsily frolicking along.

Our final destination was Inistioge, a little town on a beautiful river in Southern Ireland. Supposedly it is the most photographed town in Ireland and was the site of two movies, one called Circle of Friends with Minnie Driver and Widow's Peak, none of which I have seen but am now curious about.

In fact, when we were standing up above the town at a lookout over the town and river, Jesus said to me "I think this is the most beautiful town I have ever seen."

We would have never seen this town if it wasn't for a little stroke of fate this summer when I was back home in the U.S.  I went to stay the night at my mom and stepdad's place and when I arrived, there were some friends of my mom and Billy visiting that I hadn't seen in a REALLY long time. I hadn't seen them since I was a teenager although half the year, they live right down the road from my parent's place in Suquamish.  My mom brought up that I was going back to Spain for the school year and they responded with "well, you should come visit us in Ireland." And I said, "You know what, I probably will." I don't know if they believed me but they gave me their card with their contact info and after a few months of being back in Spain, I emailed them and said "I really wanna come. Can I go ahead and buy my plane ticket for spring break?" After a few emails back and forth trying to figure out the best dates for us to be in their neck of the woods, the deal was sealed. I bought my tickets, they bought theirs, being how they live basically 6 months of the year in Suquamish and 6 months in Ireland and we coincided perfectly.

There they bought a house and property for a rediculously cheap amount, granted none of the buildings had roofs anymore.  On the property there are, I think, 3 stone building and they have put a roof so far on 2 of them, 1 which is now their house. They just got the shower installed last year and it is a work in progress with lots of frustrations I am sure. On their property they have a little camper which is what they used to live in while finishing the roof and which Jesus and I stayed in while we were there. It was nice and cozy I must say. They gave us lots of blankets and hot water bottles to sleep with and we stayed perfectly warm out there without a heater. The climate seems VERY similar to that of Western Washington so it was still a bit chilly in April. 

If it wasn't for them we would have never gotten that dose of nature OR gotten that experience of what its like to go to a REAL jam session. I cannot stress enough visiting people that you know who live in other countries. You get a whole nother side of life that you just can't get from going as simply a tourist. They took us on walks through town, along the river a bit, up to an arboretum and up to a hilltop where we saw the whole valley of patchwork green farms. It was so windy that it was almost knocking us over but it was great fun and so beautiful. 

As for the jam session, we went drivin into the night until we reached a pub that looked to be in the middle of nowhere. There was a room off to the side with a fireplace and an old out of tune piano. They began with basically one person on guitar, one lady on a bodhran drum, and 3 or 4 fiddlers. I was in heaven. Since when do the fiddlers outnumber the guitarists? In Ireland, thats where. A jolly old red-faced man was askin all the young ladies to dance. Of course I had to give this a try and as you might imagine, he danced circles around me. THEN, something really strange happened...seemingly out of the blue Tanya asked me if I wanted to sing Novia Scotia, a song that I have learned to sing, somewhat, and play on the guitar. I insisted that I didn't know all the words and certainly wouldn't be able to play the guitar and sing at the same time and she assured me with that kind gentle face of hers that it would be alright and then she started to play the song herself on the guitar. SO, I decided what the hey. The things we will do on foreign soil, I tell ya.  Anyhow, so I sang in front of a room full of people and messed up the words a few times along the way. But how liberating!!! I felt so brave and free after that. I didn't die and my ego was still in tact.  Its the miracle that happens when in a room full of non-judgemental, down-to-earth people get together to share and enjoy the heartfelt music. Here's a video of Tanya and Mike playing at the jam session. You can't see Mike from where I was sitting unfortunately and as you can see Tanya not only holds her own amongst the Irish but in fact was pretty much the lady of the night.  She was jet-legged having just arrived from the U.S. and probably exhausted but that didn't stop her from knockin everybody's socks off with her fiddlin skills. It was cool to see that they gave way to the American girl and let her do her thang amongst all them. They obviously have a lot of respect for what she does. Mike and Tanya make their living as musicians and are always looking for gigs in Washington and elsewhere. Also, here is a link to their blog which you may find interesting http://oplandfreeman.blogspot.com.es/

 Mike was an awesome tour guide and host who woke us up every morning with a knock on the trailer to let us know that breakfast was a cookin.  And we are talkin a good hearty English breakfast as you will see down below. I suppose at this point I should mention that Mike was born and raised in England, hence the English breakfasts and tea and beer that he treated us to. Our first breakfast there was quite impressive...eggs, beans, sausage, toast, sauteed mushrooms and onions and of course coffee. He also drove us all over the place, to get fancy chocolates at a chocoletier, to some beautiful ruins, and to a an old mill (below). We were so lucky to have gotten to spend time with Tanya and Mike in Inistioge. Here are some pics from the walks through, in and around the little picturesque town of Inistioge.

10 Cool Things about Ireland

1. People seem to be good salt-of-the-earth people. For example, at the bus stop in Ennis I asked some of the employees there if there was a store nearby that I could walk to so that we could brown bag-it instead of eat in an expensive touristy restaurant once we got to the cliffs. One of them offered to drive me to a grocery store and bring me back in time to catch the bus. He was a nice, older gentleman and said "well, that's if you trust me" and then said looking at me funnily "I dont know if I trust YOU". So, I laughed, grabbed my pepper spray out of my suitcase discretely, left Jesus at the bus stop and went with the man to the grocery store. I tried to get into the driver's side of the car thinking that it was the passenger side and he laughed telling me that when he visited the U.S. he had the same problem of always trying to get in the wrong side of the car. He chatted the whole way and waited for me in the car while I did my shopping AND....I am still alive. Just a nice gentlemen who wanted to do a stranger a favor.

2. Using "feck" instead of the other word and having it be perfectly exceptable on T.V., at school and in the work place.

3. Seeing 3 musicians break their instrument strings in a matter of about 3 hours because when they strum, they strum like its nobody's feckin business.

4. Seeing how the majority of the people didn't give a rat's behind about how they looked...maybe even more extreme than the PNW(Pacific NorthWest).

5. Not seeing a single trace of litter anywhere. Just pristine green.

6. Seeing more fiddlers than guitar players.

7. The people seemed to be genuinly interested in helping toursists with whatever questions we had.  Most seem to like to talk quite a bit to strangers.

8.  Seeing the American flag along side the Irish flag at almost every establishment like we have some sort of brotherhood.

9.  I can't say enough about the live music in the pubs.

10. There are quite a lot of foreigners and foreign businesses, such as restaurants and grocery stores.

A nice little weekend of food, friends and kickboxing in Huelva

This past weekend I went with Jesus to the kickboxing championship of Andalucia in Huelva. I was really needing to get out of Cordoba, so it was a welcomed break from the routine. I also thought as much as it's going to be ackward waiting for him all weekend and being that strange foreigner who gets quiet sometimes because she is overwhelmed by yet another set of vocabulary, I kept thinking about how important is was to support Jesus in his sporting endeavors and that when and if he comes to the U.S. with me, I will most certainly want him to support me in my important endeavors; although, at times he will feel uncomfortable. So, I went under the knowledge that it is not about ME, but about HIM at this moment.

I rode with Jesus, one of his friends who was also competing and one of their trainers. We listened to music the whole way and then swung by, you guessed it, McDonalds as soon as we got to Huelva. Boys!!! Are they not the same all over the world? hehe. However, the two boys competing the following day couldn't really eat much due to needing to make weight the next morning for the fight. We stayed in Jesus' friend's family apartment. It seems like a large percentage of Spaniards have a second apartment in another city, usually near a beach, in addition to their apartment in Cordoba. It's like a family thing so all the members can go there, kind of like a family cabin that we would maybe have in the U.S. I suppose. It's kind of a strange thing for me to see since in the U.S. this trend definitely isn't AS common. In fact sometimes I think I will never be able to buy ONE house, let alone 2. And the economy and unemployment rate is more than double that of the U.S. and daily you hear about "la crisis" and how Spain is in such economic trouble. But yet the bars and restaurants are still full and the many people still have more than one apartment. I am thinking this must be old money or inheritance that allows for the extra apartments. Anyhow, just something that confuses me but back to the original story at hand.

The next morning at 9 30 am the boys weighed in. Jesus weighed just slightly over, almost 2 lbs, but they let him slide. After the weigh in, of course the boys were ready to chow down a bit after a week of almost starving themselves and going without water the last 24 hours of it, in order to make weight on Saturday morning. I read my children's book in Spanish, for ages 12 and up, thank you very much, while the boys were getting weighed.

I really wanted to see Irene's (my friend and roommate from last year) mom who I hadn't seen in almost a year who lives in Huelva. I didn't know ahead of time really that I was going to Huelva so we basically made plans at the last minute to meet up on Saturday before Jesus' fight. Luckily she hadn't made plans and we were able to meet down town. I caught a taxi down to the center or La Palmera (a plaza in the center). She took me to a really good restaurant/bar named Azabache which I totally recommend if ever in that region looking for a quality bite to eat. I let her order since she knew the restaurant well. She did NOT disappoint. She order Corvina, a white fish that I still dont know what it is but it was served in a delicious almost mojo picon sauce, hueva de choco (cuddlefish eggs) which had a great flavor but a foreign texture for me, and a delicious scramble that I should have asked about the seasoning because it was perfect. She and I had a really great talk about Spain, my blog, my Spanish and accent, surrounding yourself with positive people, her family and job(as a policewoman). Unfortunately I was in a hurry to see Jesus' fight so I had to get going but would have liked to stay longer. Like many Spaniards she wouldn't let me pay anything towards the bill and when I tried to go halves with her and told her it's how we do it in the U.S., she said "what, is that something you just invented?". Haha. Anyways, I am treating next time that's all I know. It was a much needed girl's lunch. She made me think about a lot of things, like all good friends do.

Then, it was fight time. Jesus only had to fight once because someone was bumped out because his nose wouldn't stop bleeding from the his prior fight that day. But he did an AMAZING job like always. Its so fun to watch him move around in there. I like his style and swagger in the ring. He, of course, won like usual. Then his friend fought and knocked out the "black mamba", a colombian guy who is in really good shape and really talented (obviously if your nickname is Black Mamba), with a kick to the side of the head/jaw. So, both boys came home with the title for their weight class. This was cause for a celebration.

That night after listening to the boys talk for HOURS about politics, money, businesses and God knows what else, we FINALLY made it to the clubs. For me this is hard because for one, I am not patient and for two, I am not used to waiting until 3 in the morning to START heading to the bars. God, I almost fell asleep in my nylons and makeup just waiting for those ding dongs to wrap up their precious conversations. Phew!!! But then again, I suppose it IS common practice and its ME that is the weird one wanting to go earlier to the clubs when nobody has even arrived yet.

When we got there, it was packed but with crappy music and weird, hideous dudes wearing scarves and holding cognac glasses and cornering me against the bar with looks of wild abandon. Then, Jesus' friend thought it would be a good idea to tell me in English, how the United States is the worst nation to EVER exist, but in not so nice words, which was a bit of a buzz kill. After choking back some tears, cuz I am just at a loss for words at this point, I pulled myself up by the boot straps with the help of a change of atmosphere/clubs and decide that the best thing I can possibly do is dance away the sorrow. And boy did it work. In fact I dont know of anything that works better for me when I am feeling down or hurt. Just dance it off. Luckily at the new club, the music was better and I was able to break it down and let my hair down a bit. Soon, I felt like myself again and was just gettin warmed up when some of the people in our group wanted to leave. Oh well, at least I got to shake my tail feathers a little bit. That was the funnest hour and a half of the trip for me right there even though as a whole, I really truly DID enjoy myself. Until we meet again Huelva York (as it says on the street graffiti).

An Orthopedic Surgeon's View on the USA

Tonight I went and saw an orthopedic surgeon and traumatologist to see what is really going on with this stupid lumbar, sacro-illiac region of my body, often referred to by me as my hip. Well, first I went and saw a general doctor and she referred me to this guy cuz he's much more conservative than the rest. She says basically that he is not trigger happy and doesn't resort to operating right away like some of the others. Well, after missing the first appointment due to yet another miscommunication between me and my Spanish-speaking boyfriend, I was finally able to make it. In Spain the doctors and such work in the morning, then take a break like just about everyone else during the siesta hours, 2-6 in the afternoon, and then resume business until God knows when to accomodate and respect the siesta hour and everyone else's schedules that revolve around it. So my appointment was for 8pm on a Wednesday evening. That in and of itself feels strange.

Anyhow, I rode my bike to the appointment and had trouble finding the place because like many doctors in Spain, they work out of an apartment. So, once I found the place I was asked for my insurance card by the receptionist, she swiped it and I signed the receipt before the doctor even saw my face. I was told to wait in the waiting room where I read fashion magazines in Spanish while thinking to myself how I wish I gave a crap about looking good, cuz DAMN these women look so beautiful and fashionable.

Then, he called my name and tried his best to pronounce it and of course, asked where I was from. When I told him I was from the United States, that's when I wished I would have stuck to my original plan of saying that I was from Canada whenever anyone asked. Since last year I had heard so much negativity about my country, I thought about doing a social experiment to see that if I said I was from Canada, instead of the U.S., if people would still be so negative. Well, needless to say I strayed from the plan and the doctor gregariousy spent the first 20 minutes of the appointment sitting across his desk from me telling me everything that he didn't like about the United States.

Apparently he had travelled to the U.S. a few times for things involving medicine but only for short periods and without speaking much English. He said he spent time in Atlanta, Georgia and San Francisco, California and I'm not sure where else. He started with, "you know what I didnt like about the U.S., is that you guys work too much, working all the time. You guys only care about the dollar. You don't care about literature, museums, or art. The only thing you guys care about is the dollar." Then, he said "you know that the Ku Klux Klan still exists in the U.S.? I couldn't light up a cigarette there but you can hang a black person." Then he said, "you know the people there don't even know where Spain is? When I would say "Spanish", they would ask me if I was from Mexico or South America. They thought Spain was in South America." At this comment, I couldn't help but think that with his strong accent and lack of English, by saying Spanish(meaning of Spanish decent), they thought he was talking about the language (Spanish) and therefore asking him where he was from. OR we're are just that ignorant about the rest of the world, like many like to think here in Spain. They feel so offended that someone might not know where Spain is when it's such a small country on the other side of world from us and "Spanish" means both a nationality AND a language. Anyhoo, what else??? Oh and he said, "but the worst part for me was the food. I would see these American movies where the cute boy falls in love with the cute girl and they go out to eat at a really nice restaurant. Well, I looked for those restaurants and couldn't find anything." He said he was in San Francisco and didn't find any good food. For me that just says something about one's taste (or stubborness) in food because as far as most people are concerned, that I have met at least, San Francisco is known for its wonderful selection of international food. So, I said "Did you try any Asian food there because San Francisco is known for having a lot of good Chinese and Japanese food?" And he said "Well, thats the thing, I don't like Chinese food."

So, anyways after the 20 minute schpeal about all the things he didn't like about the U.S., he asked me what was wrong and why had I come to see him. I explained about my hip and about the fact that I have had this pain for 10 years, more or less, but never had the kind of job where I had health insurance (something I view as a problem with the U.S. but he didn't seem to. lol.). Hence, I was not able to get an MRi (can you say expensive?) to actually see what was really going on inside. I basically told him that I would like to get an MRi done while I was here in Spain with full coverage insurance and he said without hesitation "okay" and wrote out the prescription/order to have it done. As simple as that. Gotta say once again that so far that has been the most impressive thing about Spain for me...fast, no non-sense, patient-oriented health care. I am so thankful for that.

Needless to say, I left with mixed feelings. On one hand, so happy to have had a doctor listen to me and to finally be able to have this MRi done and on the other hand, sad about how the world views the United States and wishing that everyone could see all the good people and wonderful things that I know the U.S. to be. But trying to convince anyone of that who only sees a small portion of our horrible media coverage and has never lived there is an act of futility. Luckily he was a very nice doctor and I just have to look past his over-bearing opinions and focus on the good he is doing for me as a physician. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, right?

Nothin like a good ol' fashioned flip out

This year instead of 1 elementary school, I have shared hours with 2 different elementary schools in the center of the city. Unfortunetely at my new school(Colon), nobody seems to have any sense of classroom control or respect for teachers. The teachers let the children walk all over them and continue to say "I guess we just have to have patience" or "I just don't know what's wrong with these kids" or "Am I doing something wrong here? Because the kids just don't seem to care about anything." It has been nearly impossible for me to teach English here because the kids constantly interupt, talk amongst themselves without a care in the world, are always getting out of their seats, constantly asking stupid questions just to ask them, and acting like completely helpless little babies. They seriously have no concept of respect for teachers or for the person who is talking/teaching. In fact there is so much noise in the classroom that I leave each day feeling a little more deaf, with tension in my jaws and like I am not able to make an ounce of difference in these children's education.

Luckily at San Lorenzo, my other school from last year, the teachers have much more of a presence and are constantly riding the students to keep them in check. You can see that there is a healthy fear of the teachers/authority figures there and it is reflected in their knowledge of English. I teach the classes but the minute someone steps out of line or is acting up, the regular classroom teacher puts them in check. So, there I have been able to reap the rewards of being a language teacher and I feel completely respected as well as useful.

Meanwhile back at Colon, the children get out of their seats so much to ask me rediculous questions over and over again that I cannot even make it through one phrase of teaching without saying "go back to your seat" 5 times to 5 different students. Basically it gets to the point where I just stop and stare at them while they carry on for 45 minutes talking, lauging, fighting, tattling, complaining and whining. I have NEVER seen anything like it in my life and in the U.S. I work with kids with actual problems. These kids come from the best neighborhoods and Colon is supposedly one of the best bilingual public schools but to me it is a frickin joke.

Today the regular teacher, completely exhausted and sucked dry from these kids, left me alone for a minute to talk with a parent. I was trying to start a new unit on plants and the madness started all over again. While I am introducing the new words, several kids come to the black board to tell me "tonterias", kids start fighting and complaining about belly aches and playing every card available to them to manipulate another adult in their life and not have to do any actual work.

That was it. After 4 months of thinking "if somebody only had some balls around here..", I flipped my lid. I started yelling until RED red in the face, slammed the classroom door shut, rattling the class windows ( I actually thought I might break them) and made everyone sit down in their seats. I told them in English and in Spanish that I was super mad and tired of their class. I told them that they were an embarassment, that the kids in my country had much more respect and that from this point on there will be NO questions and that they will do EXACTLY what I tell them to do for the rest of the class. I reminded myself of one of my favorite teachers in High School, Mr. Jackson, whose vein would bulge and his face would get red while he ripped into us. We would laugh later and tease him about his bulging vein but in that moment, we were more than a tad bit uncomfortable. Because that level of pissed offedness (yes, I know) cannot be faked and we knew he meant business. And today with those kids, they knew it as well. The anger was 100% real and boy did they feel the wrath. The fear in their eyes was priceless.

In four months I have seen teacher after teacher try and maintain order in this class and fail pathetically. Its sad to say but obviously this class was long over due for a good put-the-fear-of- God-in-ya, ass chewin. And unfortunately I was the one who had to do it. But let me tell ya, I have NEVER seen this class behave so perfectly as I did today for the rest of the period.

Moral of the story...no matter how nice it is to have patience, there is NO substitute for a good ol' fashioned genuine butt chewin. Accept no substitute.

La Loca Landlady

Well, folks I 've done it again. I've moved for the second time (3rd apartment) since I've been in Spain. As you may remember, I moved in December to an apartment right across the street from one of my elementary schools and quite close to the other. At the time, it seemed like a great decision. Sure, I was once again paying a lot to share a house (300 euros) but I thought to be close, since I dont have a car here, to my 2 schools and to my private classes would make my life much easier. I also liked that the apartment seemed very clean, the kitchen was well stocked with all the utensils a self-proclaimed chef would need and my room had a leather couch in it. I pictured having all the privacy in the world, where me and Jesus could watch movies as we snuggled on the couch in my room and we could cook our fun international dinners that we like to prepare together while drinking beer or wine. But all in a respectful, mature manner of course. That was the fantasy. Now let's move on to how it really unfolded.

When I answered the add for the new apartment on easypiso.com, the add said "shared bedrooms for rent". This struck me as odd considering that she was asking the steep price of 300 euros. She answered back saying that "No, I only rent individual rooms to one person at a time." Okay, so that was settled. Just wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to be bunking with someone else for 300 euros.

When I went to look at the place, I should have known something was odd because she brought it up to me that she doesn't rent to couples and that if someone wanted to rent a room from her and wanted their partner to be staying there on the weekends from out of town that she would charge them more rent. She told me that she had had that situation before and she plans on charging more money for that sort of thing. I said "Oh, thats okay, I dont plan on living with my boyfriend at this point. We are not at that point yet in our relationship. He lives with his parents in a nice house and is still finishing school and is where he needs to be. BUT, I do have to be honest that YES, my boyfriend would come over and watch movies with me and sometimes spend the night. But not all the time because he is busy with kickboxing and school and goes out of town a lot for kickboxing. But I just want you to know that yes, I do have a boyfriend here in town and he will be with me sometimes etc, etc. " She responded with "Or in exchange for letting your boyfriend stay here, you could give me english classes. I used to go to the English academy here and had a really high level of English. But after all these years of not speaking, I have lost a lot of it." I said "Okay, we could do a conversation class once a week, every Friday where we have coffee and we can speak in English." Done deal. In my mind that meant, that I could live normally and every once in awhile Jesus could spend the night and could come over when he pleases to have dinner with me or watch a movie and if he was beginning to stay a lot, then I would have to either pay or give her classes. Although I planned on doing this conversation class once a week just to keep her happy and quiet.

So, for Christmas break all the roomates left town to go spend the holidays with their families in other parts of Spain. So Isabel, the landlady who also happens to live there, comes up to me and says, "If you want Jesus to come over and stay with you, now is the time. Now that everyone is gone, you should take advantage of it and I dont mind if he is here at all." I still didn't want to take advantage exactly of the situation but then again, she said it. Anyhow, we spent my birthday picnicking in the countryside, then Jesus took me to the physical therapists that evening and we ended up back at my place for dinner and a movie. And of course, he stayed the night...it was my birthday and I had the go-ahead. Christmas Eve we spent at his aunt's house until midnight, then slept at my place and he got up in the morning and left. The 26th I went to Barcelona and Jesus went to Granada. We got back on New Year's Eve and spent that night at his parents house. I was sick with what turned out to be a 3 week sinus infection, so Jesus brought me home, tucked me in and went out like he had planned with his friends.

A week or so after the break ended and everyone was back home, Jesus spent the night but Isabel had no way of seeing him. He came late and my room is the first bedroom as you enter the house and Isabel's room, living room and bathroom are at the back of the house. He never left my room and left before anyone was awake to be respectful. That morning Isabel tells me "Has Jesus left? He has spent the night 4 nights now (in a month's period of time mind you). I am thinking about charging you 10 euros a night for every night that he sleeps here. And when are you gonna give me my English lessons? If the others see that you have someone over, they are going to think that they can have someone over and I dont want a house full of people. So I am not going to charge you but I am going to tell the other roomates that you are paying me more money to have Jesus here." I said "But, you told me it was okay for him to come during Christmas break and we can do the English classes whenever. I told you Fridays work good for me but you always have something else going on." She said, "If you want to have your boyfriend over you need to ask permission from the other roomates." Huh? I said "Well, what if he is just coming to eat dinner?" She said "Well, then you need to give us a day's notice." Wow!! Okay. "And what if I am hanging out with my friend Juliana and we are far from her house and we get hungry and decide to come to my place to eat something, then what?" She says "Well, if you do it very descreatly and you guys stay in your room, it would be okay." I started to get the feeling that she may like to just make up the rules as she goes along while contradicting herself and trying to control every move in the household.

Every week I would ask her if she was ready for her English lesson and every week was a different excuse like "I dont feel good or I dont feel like it. Can we do it tomorrow?" We ended up only following through with one lesson the entire time but I tried every week to set it up.

She got mad when I took all the blankets off the furniture that she had put on because she said the furniture cost her lots of money and if I scratched ANYTHING, I would have to pay her. Although when I first looked at the room these florescent, felt blankets were non-existent. I explained that that is what the deposit is for and if I ruin something, she can take it out of that money and that when I first saw the room and decided to take it, those blankets were not there and part of the reason I chose the room was because I liked the furniture.

She would interrupt me when I was cooking, acting all frantic about which burner or lid I was or wasn't using. One night after watching a movie in my room with Jesus, I was hungry and nobody was home but Isabel so I made a hamburger. I looked at the clock at it was exactly 11pm when I FINISHED. You must remember that this is not exactly a late time in Spain to be having dinner. In fact, Jesus' parents usually eat dinner at around 10 or 11pm. And keep in mind that Isabel's room/apartment is on the other side of the house at the farthest point from the kitchen. Well, the next morning, you guessed it, she confronted me with "You started cooking at midnight last night. When the others are here you cannot do that." I said "No, it was 11pm when I finished but yeah, okay, it was a little late." She says, "No it was 12 when you started and you can't be doing that." I can completely understand that, IF it wasn't for the fact that I am in SPAIN for crying out loud and that is when many people, including her, eat their dinner. Basically she was trying to control my every move. Not only that, every 3 or 4 nights I would hear her barfing in her bathroom during the middle of the night. Not sure if she was borracha or bulemic on these frequent occasions..I am thinking bulemic(control issues, right?).

Also, soon after I moved in, although we never signed a lease/contract, which is quite common here, she started bringing up signing a contract for a specified length of time...AFTER I had already moved in and given her my deposit. She then said, "well, you said you would be in Cordoba until July, so if you leave before that, you will lose your deposit (300 euros). Then she would say "so, do you want a contract?" I kept asking "what do you mean a contract? I said I would be in Cordoba until then but I never signed a contract or said I would be staying in this apartment that whole time. In fact my job ends in May, so I will be unemployed here for 2 months and may stay somewhere else for less money." She got mad and said that "How am I supposed to find someone to rent in the middle of summer when all the college kids leave to go back home?" I said "I dont know, but I never said I would be here in this apartment until then. I have a lot of bills to pay and cannot be spending that much on rent in the summer when I have no income." She snapped back "Well, everyone has bills. That's no excuse." Does, her line of reasoning make any sense at all though? Why was she asking me if I wanted a contract but yet telling me that I have no choice but to stay until July or else I lose my deposit. Ahhhh!!! Me vuelve loca esta mujer!!

Then not last Friday but the one before, la loca crossed the line. Not only was she irritating me and acting like the second reign of a female Franco around the apartment but the bitch done screwed up big time. I stepped out for a little while with Jesus and while I was gone, at 10 pm(which is not considered late in Spain), Juliana stopped by. She had tried to call me but my phone had gotten wet and wasn't working. So, she rang the apartment bell like any normal person would do. Isabel saw her from the window above and that she had two friends with her. But for all Isabel knew, she could have just wanted to ask me something. She knew that my phone wasn't working. But instead of answering the door, she yells down from the window "Jessey's not here" with a rude tone. And that next morning when I was making my coffee, Isabel corners me in the kitchen by closing the door and saying she needs to talk to me in private. She says "You can't be having friends come to the house. If the others see that you are having friends over, they will think that they can have friends over and then I will have a house full of people that I dont know." I explained the situation, that Juliana didn't know I was gone and that my cell isn't working and that she only wanted to ask me something, yada yada yada. Well, then she started with "and you haven't followed through on your end of the deal. Jesus spent the entire Christmas break here (really? 3 weeks? or do you mean 3 nights? and because you told me it was okay) and you haven't been giving me my English classes. And I have been trying to be nice because you are far away from your family and you can't just catch a bus and go see them whenever you want. So I have been telling the others that you are paying me more money so that you can have Jesus over (mind you he hardly EVER came over to avoid situations like this). I am making an exception for you because you guys are in love and I am not going to say no to love." OMG. These "tonterias"(or nonsense) may work with the 18 year old boy who lives there or the new girl who just moved in and hasn't gotten to know her yet. But at my age, I am not too keen on manipulators OR hypocrites. And besides, is she really trying to manipulate a psychology major? hehe. Nice try lady.

At that point I done had enough of her shananigans. What I have mentioned so far were the major points, not to mention all the other little lies and inconsistencies. She said no smoking was allowed because it turned all the walls yellow, yet she smoked in the house all the time and besides the smell there were burn marks to prove it all over the shelf in the kitchen and shells for ashtrays everywhere. AND she would have friends and family over ALL THE TIME. Also, she would lie about cleaning things. And I would walk into the bathroom and see a dirty, toothpaste encrusted sink and faucet. She failed to tell me the first day that I went to look at the apartment that the living room and t.v. were ONLY for her. I dont think I would have paid 300 to live in a house where I didn't have a living room. She also said I would have a landline in my room but took the phone after I looked at the place and before I moved in.

So, after the straw that broke the camel's back, I decided it was time to start looking at other options and one opened up just at the right moment. I told Isabel that we both just want different things from a living situation and I can't live in a place where my friends aren't allowed to even ring the doorbell. I tried to be politically correct/diplomatic or whatever and put the blame on myself, saying that I just didn't understand her in the beginning because I was under the impression that she just didn't want a boyfriend always hangin around the house but that I had no idea that I couldn't even have friends over...EVER. I explained that I am social and like to invite friends over to have dinner with me from time to time. Anyhow, she said "its better that you go then. I tried to stay really nice and mature about the whole thing and when I left I said "give me hug, no hard feelings (basically)" and she refused to give me a hug, saying "I just want you to know that what you did was wrong. You have to give notice before moving out." I said " I understand that, but thats why you get to keep the deposit... because I am leaving without a notice." She said "That has nothing to do with the deposit" , although many times before she had always said that if someone leaves without notice, she keeps the deposit. And this common practice in Spain just like in the U.S.

So to make a long story a tiny bit shorter, I have moved across town, far from my schools into an apartment for 1/2 the price (150 euros) that is bigger and where I have a living room, tv,etc. and can do whatever THE HELL I want. Jk. But at least I can breath. Damn!! Only problem is that its in the same apartment as Juliana. Now we have to have the discipline to not hang out with each other all the time, speaking in English and isolating ourselves from the Spanish world. I think we are at a point now to where we are strong enough in our Spanish to stay in character most of the time and not resort to that. So there you have it!! I think I am finally in the right place where I will stay for the rest of my stint in Spain. Hasta Julio!!

Regalitos y Su Lei

Well, I haven't had any profound realizations or epiphanies lately but if I only wrote on those occasions I would possibly only write about once a month. The past few weeks some little interesting things have happened though, things that made me think or that suprised me.

The main one is that I have been getting lots of gifts from people lately. I kinda feel bad about it cuz I am not financially in the position to be returning their kindness as I just booked tickets to Ireland (Yes!!), am trying to save for my last 2 months in Spain where I will be without work and of course for a tiny, and I do mean tiny, nest egg to fill the gap for when I get home from Spain and will be looking for work once again.

But lets see, it WAS Christmas and my birthday so thats all good and normal but then the gifts continued. Monday when I went to teach at one of my elementary schools, one of the teachers who I have hardly talked to (because I truly can hardly understand him with him mumbly, raspy voice) had boughten me the Adele cd. Another teacher from my other school gave me a silver ring that is just gorgeous and I now wear everyday but for seamingly no reason at all. One of the ladies that I teach private lessons to, brought me a DVD with recorded movies in Spanish. My boyfriends family is always giving me things to borrow and to keep seemingly every week.

In my 13 months here, I have come to realize that this is a culture of gift giving. People seem to really enjoy bringing each other little gifts. So much so, that the kids in my elementary schools will sometimes ask me if I have a regalito(little present) for them completely out of the blue. And I think "Uh no. Why would I have a present for you?" But over this past year, the kids have given me so many regalitos, most of which I dont want but hey, its the thought that counts, no? Most of the time it's a little old bracelet or a broken Little Mermaid pen or a piece of disgusting candy. But I appreciate the gestures.

One day I had to stop by one of the "chinos"(little stores that have a little bit of everything run by chinese people here in Spain are called chinos) to buy a notebook when out came two of my students. Their parents owned the store and Su Lei, the littlest one, was crying because she had just lost a tooth. This pretty little chinese girl from my first grade class also happened to be one of my favorite students. I had her last year when she was in kindergarten and the kids AND teachers would say things like "she doesn't know anything, she's chinese". Yet she was born in Spain. But she still messed up her Spanish sometimes because her parents spoke little Spanish and she was constantly with her parents at work in their family-run store and they all spoke to each other in Chinese. I could identify with how the people treated her (like she was dumb for not speaking perfect Spanish) and so I kinda had a little place in my heart for her. Plus, she would always get so enthusiastic when I would show up to class and try extra hard to speak English. In fact her accent in English was much better than all the Spanish kids in class. Also, she would stare at me and play with my hair, like having long, blondish hair was just so fascinating to her. Anyhow, that day in the store I said "Su Lei, why are you crying?, Don't cry" and told her parents that I was her and her sister's English teacher. Then after I paid, the mother said "wait, Su Lei wants to give you something." She was taking her time to pick out a bracelet for me from her family's store. She handed me a bracelet and said "para ti" and then asked me what color case I wanted so that I could have a little baggy to store it in. I said "that one that you have in your hand" and she said "for to keep your bracelet in".

This all transpired in Spanish though. It was such a precious little moment for me because here she is Chinese, struggling with the language, and here I am, American, also struggling with the language, I am her English teacher, her family speaks Chinese but the only language that we both knew enough of to communicate with was Spanish. And I also feel like we both recognized (even though she's only 6) that we had a common bond. Niether of us fit in to the normal Spanish society, we both come from different, barely understood cultures, we both talk funny, and people often treat us like we are stupid because of it. That was in November that she gave me the bracelet and I have never taken it off since because for one, I love it!! Its totally my style. And two, because it really means something to me. Anyhow, I am sad to say that Su Lei never came back to school after Christmas break. The other day I finally asked Su Lei's homeroom teacher what happened to her and she said "She left. Her family disappeared without saying a word. I think they went back to China." :( :( My Su Lei. It makes me sad to think about that I didn't get to say goodbye and I have to wonder if everything is okay. I hope nothing bad happened. I also hope that she will always remember me like I will always remember her. I wear this bracelet that will always remind me of her and hopefully when she hears English or sees someone with long, blonde hair, she will think of me.

Barcelona snapshots

The supernice Australian girl at the hostel who taught me how to make paella. Yes, that's right I learned paella from an Australian.

The good-looking member of the broccoli family.

FINALLY I saw this "variety of seafood" the Spaniards always brag about. But hey, coming from the Pacific Northwest I suppose I have higher standards than most.

La Pedrera by Antoni Gaudi

Lots of interesting Mediterranean varieties at La Boqueria, a cool food only market just off the side of La Rambla.

The beautiful paella that I made along side the australian girl for the people at the hostel. 4 euros a plate I think it was and that included a beer or glass of wine.

Me and Juliana at Parque Guell.

Juliana and her sister Alesya with La Sagrada familia en the background.

Pretty sure they told me this was dragonfruit, more pretty than delicious. Like a kiwi but a lot less tang. I prefer tang!!

Pretty Catalan building

Casa Batlo'

Cool rock balcony at Parque Guell

Barcelona waterfront, not bad for winter, eh?

Michael Jackson glovin up for a street performance.

These were all the street performers we saw along La Rambla the day we walked it looking at crafts and people watching.

Parque Guell