Diclaimer Regarding Dead Birds

It turns out that my roommate, Antonio's boss hunted the birds and gave them to him as a gift. Featherless and cooked, they were more appetizing. I actually ended up trying one--tough but decent. So, I feel bad I was so quick to complain in my previous post. And at least now that they've been consumed, there's one fewer gross thing to look at in the kitchen!

Dead Birds, Badajoz, and British-isms

I figure since my last post was about highlights, I might as well balance it out by recounting a few of the more bothersome moments:

 

-The school I work at twice a week in Cáceres is a half hour walk from me, which is fine when the weather is nice, but not so ideal when it’s raining, as it often is. Both days I worked there last week it rained, and on one of the mornings, it was pouring to the point that the streets were flooded. So when a bus passed me, I was the lucky recipient of a tidal wave that caused my jeans to cling to my legs and smell like mildew the rest of the day.

-One of the teachers I work with at my school in Miajadas consistently talks in unison with me while I’m trying to teach kids new English words, and as her voice is much louder than mine, all the kids can hear is her strong Spanish accent, which completely defeats the purpose of my being there. I’ll point to a red stuffed cat and try to say “red cat” before she can, but she always manages to shout it out at the same time, so all the kids can hear is “rrrrred (with a rolled ‘r’) cahhhht (with the ‘a’ sound of ‘almond’)”.  She’s a very nice person, though, so hopefully it won’t be too hard to work up the courage to tell her I’d like to speak on my own.

-The guys I live with are all good people, and the apartment itself is quite nice, but day by day it gets messier and messier. And since I don’t want to be the only person who really cleans, I must say, I’ve started to somewhat neglect the cleaning, as well. I wash my dishes after eating no matter what because it takes a second and it’s rude not to, and I wipe down the kitchen counters and floors and take out the garbage. But I lose motivation to go beyond the basic when no one else seems to care about the plate palaces in the sink, the cigarette ash coating the furniture, the cigarette butts in the toilet, the dog poop on the terrace, the nine toilet paper rolls on one of the bathroom floors that no one has bothered to throw away (I avoid that bathroom), the inches of grime that somehow creep onto the stove minutes after I clean it, the uncooked hamburger patties that are left on the counter for days on end (why?!), and the plate of dead birds (complete with feathers and all) that sits on top of the fridge (no joke). What’s more, I didn’t realize before I moved in that the sentence “no one smokes” (which is what it said in the ad for my apartment) actually means “everyone living here smokes.” I’ve gotten the privilege of waking up to the hour-long mucous-coughing episodes that only a smoker can provide. I’ve tolerated a permanently scratchy throat at the expense of sitting in the living room and socializing with my roommates rather than hiding from the smoke all day. But I can’t say that the idea of spending the next eight months with three “human chimneys” (as my dad calls smokers) appeals to me much. So I’ve had enough, and in a few days I’m moving to a relatively smoke-free apartment (I think only one of the roommates smokes but only does so in his room, which is really the best you can expect here in Lung Cancer-Lovin’ Spain).  My new bed and room will be half the size of my current bed and room, but apartment is cute and sunny with a beautiful view, so I think all should be fine in the end. I must say, I will miss my current roommates, despite their flaws, but we’ll pretty much be next door neighbors, so it’s alright.

-Shortly after informing my landlords of my decision and receiving a somewhat passive aggressive response about how it’s so hard to find new tenants in November and that the place is an apartment, not a hotel, who do I run into at a bar but one of the landlords herself. Not exactly the person I felt like spending my Friday night with. But she must have felt bad about her husband’s message because she was in fact quite friendly to me and told me to save her phone number and call her any time I had a problem or needed help with anything. She’s probably not the first person I’d turn to for help, but I appreciated the offer.

Now that I’ve gotten out some angst, I must add a few highlights to the post because for the most part, everything here continues to be wonderful and it wouldn’t be fair to ignore the good parts:

-I saw The Butler dubbed in Spanish. Despite the absolute absurdity of seeing a movie about American civil rights in Spanish, I quite enjoyed it. Also, my friend Caroline and I had previously tried and failed to go to the movies twice (we got lost the first time, and they were sold out the second time) so the success of actually seeing a movie in theaters was part of the reason for my enjoyment.

-My friend, Jacob, who in fact studied with me in Granada back in the day and is currently teaching in Badajoz, a city south of Cáceres, came to visit with his friend, Tom on Friday. On Saturday, Jacob’s friend, Pedro, a Cáceres local, gave us a proper tour of the ancient part of Cáceres. I hadn´t spent much time wandering around the winding, cobblestone streets, and I hadn´t yet seen the Aljibe, the Arab water house, so the tour was a plus. I then got to be a tourist in Badajoz Saturday night and Sunday. Badajoz is bigger than Cáceres so there was definitely more nightlife, and it has some pretty plazas, but the old part of Cáceres is much prettier than that of Badajoz. A main highlight of Badajoz was buying peanut butter, which I´m trying to refrain from eating all at once since I don’t think they sell any in Cáceres. 

Badajoz

-I might be learning just as many British-isms as Spanish words, as I’ve spent quite a bit of time recently with Caroline and Tom, both British. Apparently “fancy dress” means “costume,” (so you’d say “what fancy dress will you be wearing for Halloween?”), “push chair” is stroller, “pissed” is “drunk,” “stupid “ is “large” (“I’m learning a stupid number of British phrases”),  and the word “brilliant” or more often, simply “brill” is thrown into speech as much as humanly possible. It’s definitely been rubbing off on me. Instead of saying “I’ll meet you at your apartment at 8:30” I’ll find myself saying “I’ll meet you at your flat at half 8” or simply “I’ll meet you at yours at half 8.” I should probably try to resist this and stay true to my American roots or I’ll return in 8 months  speaking an odd mixture of European dialects and forgetting my true identity. The English that’s taught in schools here is also British, which sometimes really throws me off. The students learn phrases such as “She has got brown hair/She’s got brown hair” (which seems so silly to me…why not just say “she has brown hair”?!). When something is correct, you mark it with a “tick,” not a “check.” And the letter “z” is pronounced “zed.” What?! 

-My private, afternoon classes are the best. After spending the mornings trying to get the kids in my primary school classes to stop jumping around and giggling, working one-on-one with eager learners in the afternoons is quite satisfying. I had no idea just how many people were looking to learn English until I started these classes. I made the mistake of giving out my number a while back, and now I get calls nearly every day from desperate parents. I’ve capped it at five kids because I think more would be just too many different lessons to plan. But the satisfaction of seeing the kids improve and get more confident has made me consider some sort of future career in which I’d help people one-on-one. That’s quite vague, I know, but I don’t have more of an idea than that just yet…

Highlights

-Starting private tutoring sessions (I stopped working at the academy in my apartment building because the director was driving me crazy, showing up at my apartment all the time and changing my schedule on me...I'd rather work for myself without an absent-minded boss. I can make just as much money, so I might as well be boss-less and free). Yesterday I taught a boy who reminded me of my little brother, Ezra and made me miss him! Today I taught a very eager, energetic girl who's obsessed with One Direction. It was rewarding to teach them because they both really wanted to learn, unlike some of the kids in my classes in Miajadas, who persist in responding with "hola" when I say "hello" to them.

-Discovering that the reason a box of croissants I'd bought had magically disappeared this morning was because my roommate's dog ate them (the empty box was discovered in his little spot on the terrace). I thought my roommates had stolen them and was about to second-guess myself for thinking they seem like good companions. I'm sad about the lack of croissants (they were so good!) but I'm glad only the dog is too blame. (And according to his owner, he has a very strong stomach, so I'm not too worried about his well-being).

-Going out with my friend, Caroline, with the intention of seeing a movie, but ending up lost in the maze that's the Old City. We never found the theater, but we had our bags of candy we'd brought with us to eat at the movies. So we went to a bar and awkwardly munched on the candy while drinking wine until a waiter came over and sternly asked us whether we were finished. "¡Sí!" I said, my mouth full of candy.

-Teaching first graders at my new school in Cáceres. I asked the students what they like to do after school, and most of them said they liked to play sports, play video games, see friends, etc. But one girl said she liked to go to her friend's house so she could kiss her friend's brother. This type of lack of embarrassment is why I love first-graders.

-Finding a new trail to run on. (I'm obsessed with finding running trails!) Before my discovery, I was making lots of laps around a somewhat small park, but this trail seems to stretch on endlessly, winding around fields of tall grass; crumbling, graffiti-covered walls; and cottages where small, peaceful dogs stare at me as I go by (dogs here are much less yappy and territorial than in the U.S.).

-Spending the entire day last Saturday at one of my fellow teacher's country house with about 20 of her friends. We literally sat and ate from 11am to 12pm. When we weren't eating lunch or dinner, we were munching on olives, cheese, cakes, and chips. When I recounted this experience to several Spaniards, they told me that this type of excessive sitting and eating is very normal in Spain.

Me and My New Friend!
(I don't know too many people here so I have to make due with statues for now).
There was a woman who used to always sell newspapers in this spot. When she passed away, this statue was constructed in her honor. I know it was with good intentions, but there's something quite morbid about replacing a human being with metal...

Settling into Extremaduran Life

Two Pals Bonding in a Park near my Apartment

Now that I've been in Cáceres for 17 days (I can't believe it!) I've started to get into a rhythm: 

Tuesday through Friday my alarm shrieks miserably at 7am when it's still dark. I travel for an hour to Miajadas, a small factory town in the province of Cáceres, with fellow teachers who, like me, live in the city of Cáceres. 

Then I help the teachers infiltrate their students' ears with English. It's heartbreaking to correct their charming accents, to tell them that "does" is pronounced "duhhz", not "doos" and that "milk" has a short I sound--that you don´t say "meelk." It doesn't matter much anyway, though, because their English teachers are native Spanish speakers who have very thick Spanish accents, so the English they've learned up until my arrival has been a very Spanish-inflused type of English. Therefore, getting them to change they way they're used to speaking is not something that can happen in a day. I'm not sure it will even happen by the end of the eight months I'm here. But honestly, if their Spanish accents stay strong, that's fine. It's a beautiful accent. What I at least need to get them to do is UNDERSTAND English when it's spoken by a non-native Spanish speaker. They understand their teachers when they speak English, but when I speak English with my American accent, they look at me like I'm from a different universe. "Hello!" I'll say super slowly, so each sound is accentuated to the fullest. "How aaarreee youuu todayyyy?" They'll stare at me blankly, giggle, and say "¡habla en español!" ("Speak in Spanish!") But speaking in Spanish is not something I'm allowed to do, so instead we have to communicate with smiles and gestures. This isn't just little kids I'm talking about. Twelve-year-olds, who have been learning Spanish since kindergarten, will often fail to understand a phrase as basic as "how are you?"

I hope I can help them, but I'm starting to teach at another school next week, so I'll only have six hours at each one, and within each one, I'm divided up among many classes. So I'll only see some students for about an hour a week, which really isn't enough to expose them to English. If it were up to me, I'd devote all twelve hours to one class so at least those students could benefit, rather than spread myself so thin that no one benefits. But it's not up to me.

Many of the students here in Miajadas are gypsies. According to the teachers, gypsies don't value education and therefore don't buy their children the books they need or bring their kids to school on a regular basis. By 6th grade, many of the students have taken on a defiant attitute. When I try to talk to them, they say "No entiendo inglés" ("I don´t understand English") as if it's an established fact and there's nothing they'd like to do to change it. But in kindergarten, they still seem eager to learn, and it's disturbing to see them sitting at their desks, with nothing to do, while the other children color in their books.

Anyway, around 2pm the teachers and I embark on the hour-long drive back to Cáceres (during which time I usually sleep). If it's a Tuesday or Thursday, I then have more classes to teach at an English academy that happens to be right in my apartment building. Here's how I got the job there: One day, I was walking down the stairs with one of my roommates, Unai, and the door to the academy was open. Unai is friends with the director, so they were chatting, and the director, when he found out I was American, immediately asked me to work there. He let out quite a sigh of relief when I said yes-- he was clearly overbooked and desperate. So the following day I arrived at the academy, expecting that he'd tell me about the students, give me some teaching tips, provide me with some materials, etc. But he immediately set me off to teach four classes of students of all ages. Luckily improvising proved to work out fine, although by the end of the day I was so dazed i have no idea how I was able to cook dinner, brush my teeth, or put on my pajamas. Although it's obviously quite convenient to have the academy right in my building, it's not always ideal. The director showed up at my apartment one day when I wasn't supposed to be working, and asked if I could work. I told him no because I really wanted to take a nap. So hopefully he got the point and won't do that again. When I told Unai about what happened, amazed at how unprofessional it was for him to show up like that, he didn't seem surprised at all. He said bosses in Spain are often unprofessional and disorganized, and in order to avoid getting trampled on, you have to "echar cara" (stand up for yourself and be confident).

So yeah, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, basically all I do is teach. On Wednesdays and Fridays, I have a little more time after teaching in Miajadas to nap and explore Cáceres, which is always hustling and bustling at night. Unfortunately I can never stay out late if I want to avoid being a zombie the next day at work. Saturdays, Sundays, and Mondays are free days! It's definitely necessary to have three-day weekends if I want to travel at all since Cáceres is tucked far away from everywhere else in Spain. For instance, this past weekend, I went to a beach in Malaga with Antonio (who was back in Spain for a few days) and visited Javi's apartment in Malaga. That was about a seven-hour busride--definitely not worth it for only two days. Going to the beach in October made me feel like I was going back in time and that it was summer once again!  It's supposed to get cold here soon, though...But least I'll be able avoid the Massachusetts snow storms.

In Caceres, at Last

Hola desde Cáceres, España. I'm currently in the library on a weird wifi connection that keeps failing, so let´s see if I can make it through the whole post. I don't have wifi in my new apartment, which is why I'm here at the lib. That's the one downside to my apartment, which is otherwise lovely, luminous, cheerful, and cheap. I live with two Spanish guys and a guy from Portugal (and his dog, which no one mentioned until after I moved in and who appeared one day out of the blue in the kitchen, but that's fine).

Anyways, to backtrack...the rest of Scotland was swell as hell. What stands out most from the last few days is a trip I took to St. Andrew's, a coastal town north of Edinburgh, with Antonio, his friend and his cousin. We had to resort to taking a convertible, since it was the last rental car available, but I can't say I minded much.

 My flight from Edinburgh to Madrid was delayed, which ended up being lucky, because staying an extra night led me to meet an acquaintance of Antonio's named Javi, who happened to have the same flight as me to Madrid the next morning. We then happened to have the same train, as we were both going to the Province of Cáceres. Since I was homeless at that point, I got to stay with him and his mom for a few nights and eat her delicious cooking while they helped me get my feet on the ground. Definitely an ideal way to ease into the confusion.

And since then, the people here have been nothing but helpful. One of the teachers at my school and her sister have helped me get a residence card and set up a bank account, and a random old woman even walked with me to a grocery store when I couldn't find one. Javi and I also received a voluntary, free guided tour of the ancient part of the city one day. (An old man was pacing around the cobblestone streets, presumably in search of youngins with whom he could share his wealth of knowledge).

Cáceres is cute, with palm trees and lots of little shops. I can't say it's quite as beautiful as Granada, but then again, I can't imagine anywhere being as nice as Granada. And, of course, I've only been here less than a week and still have much to explore.

My students are also quite cute, maybe even cuter than Cáceres. Today was my first day, and I taught a class of kindergarteners, third-graders, and sixth-graders how to say "my name is," how to pronounce "crocodile," how to talk about our favorite hobbies, etc. I also had to explain to an inquisitive girl that  Americans come in all colors when she asked if all Americans are "blancos" like me.

I'm still trying to comprehend that this is my life for the next eight months. I keep switching between feeling extremely happy and excited and extremely terrified. But this is Extremadura, after all, so my extreme emotions have a place here.

P.S. Sorry, the internet is too slow for any pictures.