Plan Ahead...

A little bit of update

2011-11-16T17:39:00.000-08:00

Our first two and a half months in Costa Rica have been...interesting. About two days after my most recent post, we discovered that someone had copied P´s credit card. We traced it back to a hostal where we stayed our first night in Manuel Antonio, turned the info and our suspect over to the police, and now we´re waiting on "Tico time" to find out what will happen next. As for the money that was stolen from the account, we´ve been waiting since the first week of October for it to be returned by the bank. We had a rough first month spending what little money was left in my own bank account to live on, and then finally a new credit card was delivered last week. This means as soon as our money is returned, we´ll have instant access to it, but we´re still waiting on the bank to return it, and because it´s a French bank we have to wait extra long, apparently.

All of this has greatly overshadowed any warm welcome we first felt when we arrived, and also prevented us from doing anything of interest. Our meals have consisted of pasta, rice, and whatever vegetables we can buy for cheap at the local weekend market. We´ve been able to get drunk a few times for cheap, but had to seriously justify the expense when we were eating bread and butter for two days straight. Since the credit card has arrived (with a loan from both of our parents behind it), we´re back to square one and it´s like we´re just starting out here with a new perspective. Money trouble has meant we´re not able to fly to the States for Christmas, as I had really really REALLY hoped we would, but I´m telling myself a trip in January or February isn´t too far off, once I start earning money.

And money has been trickling in: I´ve been occupying my time teaching Spanish to a few gringas we´ve made friends with, and P´s busy with several job ideas he´s got in the works: dealing poker is one of them; another is working as a consultant for an eco-friendly hostal project here in Manuel Antonio. Time will tell, and hopefully money will start flowing in TWO directions instead of just one....

On the job front, I´m three-quarters of the way through with certification and training for Open English, an online teaching company here. I´m excited about learning a new way to teach and expanding my teaching experience into the online realm. Everything I´ve learned so far has been really interesting and, from a job standpoint, fantastic: working from home - or anywhere!, in your pj´s if you want, making your own schedule, bi-monthly pay direct-deposited into my bank account, lessons of no more than 4 students per class, 45-minute classes, plus I´ll be teaching the same lesson/theme each day, more or less, so prep time is dramatically reduced. It really couldn´t be better, especially considering where we live there are virtually zero English academies or schools (the Ticos are really, really good at English; almost everyone here knows at least 100 words). Also, transportation to and from work could easily become a hassle in Costa Rica, even more so in the remote-yet-touristy area of Manuel Antonio. None of that hassle from me, I´ll be teaching from my bed (if I damn well please!).

In the meantime, we´re learning about Costa Rica little by little. There are good things...and there are bad things too. We´re not sure, but the bad might outnumber the good slightly. First of all, it´s expensive here. Like, more than either of us were prepared for, especially since I´ve been living outside the U.S. while prices have surely been rising there, and thus, here in Costa Rica. Also, although I knew Costa Rica had close economic ties to the U.S. (the dollar is accepted here, lots of American tourists come through in huge numbers, etc.), I wasn´t prepared for the unusual mix of cultural discrimination here - which goes both ways, in fact. Case in point, P was offered a job at an American-owned luxury 5-star hotel here a few weeks ago. They offered him 48 hours a week, for an hourly salary of $2. They announced the salary with the disclaimer of, "We know that isn´t much for Europeans who live here, but Ticos are delighted to work for that rate." We were disgusted - how can they be so honest and unashamed about abusing the local culture?! The receptionist job they offered P earns the same as a bellboy; the bellboy receives tips and doesn´t have to say a single word to the customers, while they wanted P as a receptionist because he speaks 3 languages. Where´s the balance here?? We were indignant about it, and of course P rejected the job, but later I reflected on something that happened our first week in Manuel Antonio:

As if the financial problems weren´t bad enough, I took my portable hard drive to a cyber café to print out my resumé for job searching, and when I got home I realized my hard drive had been infected. We took it back the next day to the cyber café to see if I could trace the virus I´d picked up and recover the data (which is somehow still on the hard drive but inaccessible due to a virus), and it was closed. Same thing the following day. So we went back and finally they were open. The owner listened to my problem and let me sit on the same computer as before to try and troubleshoot the virus problem. About 30 minutes later, it´s apparent he knows nothing about his own business (or computers!) and he tells me I´ll have to check with his technician tomorrow; then, he tells me, "That´ll be $1.40 for the use of the computer." Was this guy kidding me?! As P and I argued our very justified reason for refusing to pay - it was his effing computer that caused the problem, and now I´ve lost tons of megabytes of data, and the only reason I occupied the computer was to attempt to fix the problem HIS computer caused. I said I could understand him charging us if there were a line of people waiting to use the computer and I was occupying it, but there were only 2 others in the shop. When we refused a final time, he said, "Come on, $1.40 is nothing!" So I said, "Then why do you want it so bad?!" And we left. We knew he meant, "$1.40 is nothing TO YOU, because YOU are RICH." The guy couldn´t get that it was the principle - why should I pay him? If anything, he should return the money I paid him for the use of the computer which implanted a virus - that was his defective service I paid for! Infuriating. On several occasions after that, we became aware that Ticos who own businesses are very casual about overcharging foreigners. They see no problem with it, I guess in the same way that Americans see no problem with coming here with all their money, stealing business from Ticos and paying them close to nothing - meanwhile not learning Spanish even once they´re granted resident status in Costa Rica.

Another disillusion relates to the environment. We foolishly expected a tropical utopia where people actually get excited about recycling or at least don´t mind it, where everyone knows the simple routine ways to save energy and water and reuse it, where the whole community works to defend and protect the beautiful spaces here. But I guess my naiive assumption didn´t account for the poverty issue in all of Central and South America - poor people don´t really give a damn about anything other than getting by, and lack of education compounds the problem. Costa Rica gets props from us for having so many protected areas, of course, but they´re a far cry from environmentally conscious here. It´s sad. I feel like a kid who´s found out about the Easter bunny :(

I guess it´s normal to feel disappointed with these types of lessons - we´re certainly not in Europe anymore, but we´re not in the place we´d imagined for ourselves, either. The food here, while hearty and filling and is more to my tastes than Spanish food (cilantro, lime, sour cream, onion, avocado, mango, pineapple...mmm!), is very basic and not too diverse (lots of beans and rice, blegh!). I miss red wine, and I miss Granada where it´s easy to enjoy things on a budget. I miss people there, and going out for tapas. I miss shopping (guilty girl pleasure, sorry)!

But at this point, at least Costa Rica still feels a bit new, so we´re not running back to Spain just yet. But it´s been talked about. It´s been thought about. It´s a possibility, perhaps. We´ll leave CR for a few days at the beginning of December - probably Nicaragua! And we´ll see how we feel about that country, since it´s definitely a lot cheaper than Costa Rica. If we fail to make it work here, or don´t find what we´re looking for, there´s a lot of other central-American countries we could choose from. At least with a job teaching online, I can jump ship if need be, anytime at all, and take my work with me!

From tinto to guaro in only a month!

2011-10-04T12:43:00.000-07:00

Good to know: I prefer the tinto hangover to the guaro - at least I know a good cure for the red wine hangover (eat a raw tomato before bed, licopene, apparently)!

Well...a LOT has happened since Semana Santa. The spring and entire summer has come and gone, and with them a swarm of changes - all of which have led me to a new here and now, which is Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica on the 4th of October, 2011 :)

How did these changes begin? Long-story-short, somehow between April and June, the plan for Costa Rica became more or less solidified when I discovered the Spanish company I´ve worked summer camps for in the past actually, in fact, DID have a job for me - a guaranteed 6-weeks of work, and a lot of dough for it! That meant, in addition to the savings from my previous year in Granada, I was able to pack up and ship out of Granada by September. Basically, a job changed everything. Which is interesting, because here and now - 2 and a half months after that last job was completed and paid - I sit frantically searching for another job, one that could change everything all over again. Interesting part of all this is I did kind of a reverse of the natural way to move to a different country (if there is a natural way): I bought a ticket, got here, and now am looking for a job. I´m hoping the spirit of adventure that I had when "planning not to plan" this trip will carry me through the humiliating process of job searching.

What´s been left out since my last post, thus, is the finalizing of my last months in Granada, saying goodbye to people and places one by one, until I left Granada for good to head for summer camp in Alcantará, Spain (in the extremadura, near Portugal). I spent 6 weeks there in a surreal luxury summer camp with my nearest and dearest, enough time for us to remember why we´ll miss each other, and then left Spain for a final 3 weeks in France to finalize the trip and get last minute details in order. On September 3rd, I flew an exhausting 45-hours to arrive in San José, Costa Rica, where the plan was to float on our savings for 1-3 months before finding a place we liked, renting an apartment, and look for work. The most recent development has proved Costa Rica to be far more expensive than we thought, so we´ve rented an apartment after only 3 full weeks of being here.

Why Costa Rica, then? Truth is, it wasn´t my first pick of places to go after Spain. I´ve had a yearning to return to Mexico one day, and felt it calling me once Granada started to feel too familiar. But talking it over with the folks and friends, thinking about the current state of the economy and society there, I got to thinking maybe now isn´t the best time for Mexico. A few people mentioned Costa Rica in several unrelated "cosmic" moments, moments that seemed all linked together, pointing me towards Costa Rica, and after that I couldn´t deny that it was definitely a good in-between destination for someone leaving Europe and wanting to move to Latin or Central America - the economy´s stable, tourism is growing there, and I shouldn´t have much trouble thus finding English teaching jobs. So that´s how I got here, three weeks ago, at the current moment deflating from the newness of it all and trying to find that elusive job that will mean I really do LIVE here.

Upside is our apartment and the location, Manuel Antonio, are perfection; there are monkeys that visit twice a day in the trees at the back of our private yard; we go to the beach every single day, rain or shine; today I saw my second WHALE at the beach, so close I could have swam over to it but of course was too terrified to do so; we have everything we could want, except one important thing: WORK.

On that front, I´ve got one major lead on an online English company - small world: an American girl I met through Craigslist when apartment-searching actually works for them; she and her boyfriend have been amazing, inspiring friends throughout our move here, and we´re so fortunate to have found them. So I´ve submitted my application (twice!) and all I can do is wait. Something I´m admittedly terrible at. Meanwhile, I´ll just sit and watch the monkeys doin´their thing. In paradise :)

Lessons of Semana Santa, Fourth time ´round

2011-04-23T04:24:00.000-07:00

Well, this time of year is always a bit...nostalgic for me, as it represents my first trip to Spain. The days leading up to Semana Santa are full of memories, my first impressions of Spain and the adventures I had with oh-so-open eyes when I got here. In addition, as I experience the holiday differently each year, I´m confronted with the strange phenomenon that is this traditional, religious Spanish "holiday," if you can call it that.

My first year here, I remember forcing myself out of a hostal bed with Matt, my travel companion, on Easter Sunday of all days, just to get to the main cathedral and see the procession and mass there (once in a lifetime, right? I guess we can make this one exception and go to church on Sunday!). I remember it was the coldest day of the year (people in the crowd told us), and I remember the incense smell so thick it made me almost want to vomit. I remember feeling no spiritual or religious inspiration from any part of the ceremony. I remember being inconvenienced more than once during the week leading up to Holy Sunday, from shops all being closed or ridiculously expensive, and fighting crowds everywhere we went. But it being first time, it was all kinda fun too.

The next year, I remember getting the hell out of Dodge: in anticipation of 9 full days off work, I booked it to the beach and never looked back. There was almost no sign of Semana Santa that year where I was, which I now realize is because the Costa del Sol is full of British retirees who´ve eradicated (intentionally or not?) the Spanish culture all along the coast. I remember sand and sun, and not much else, from my second Semana Santa.

The third Semana Santa, last year, I remember staying put in Granada and trying to save money. I remember the inconvenience of the shops all being closed again, not having food readily available. I remember the hordes and getting to know my new friend, Simone, who lived with me at the time and had just arrived in Spain a few months earlier. I saw Semana Santa through her eyes a little, as we searched for pizza one afternoon and were surprised to find ourselves smack in the middle of a procession. She smiled and played with the people, darting her eyes around and taking it all in. Seeing Simone so entranced by her first procession, I felt a little guilty for wanting to simply escape the crowd. She gave me a bit of patience, just by enjoying it all a little.

And this year, my fourth and perhaps final Semana Santa (I plan on leaving Spain and Europe at the end of this academic year/summer), I notice more the inconvenience and crowds, the prices shooting up, and people becoming just a little bit more uptight. I realize now, reflecting on my previous Semana Santas, that my place and mental perspective at the time plays such a huge part in my emotional response to the memory. At the moment, I´m stuck on a rainy day, the 2nd to last of my 9-day vacation from work, in my apartment which is cosy but bored to tears and without money to do anything about it. The people in my life are mostly out of town, and I´ve got all this time on my hands but no productive ideas to put it to use. I´m cursing Semana Santa, but that´s only a coincidence because I happen to be bored and in dire need of SUN.

Yesterday we got an unexpected surprise when two friends who live super close to my house came over, and we drank and played a game for a few hours while discussing all the Semana Santa mayhem (a procession was going on just outside my window at the time). My friend Pourri, a Spanish girl, told us in some pueblos and even here in the city center, after some processions, there are people who go crawling on hands and knees after the idols, repenting and grovelling before their God. She says they do this for themselves, that it´s not a part of "making a show" of their repentence - hence the reason for not participating in the processions themselves. It made me remember my first Semana Santa with Matt, standing in Tarifa in the freezing cold, watching a procession of only children carrying an idol, barefoot in the streets. I was shocked: what do 10-12-year-olds know of repentence?? Is contracting an infection a worthy price for their spiritual well-being? It would appear so. I´m humbled by the hold that religion, in particular traditional Catholicism, still has on (some) people here in Spain. My Spanish friend, MariMar, told me the other day that when she was young, even a teenager, her parents always forced her and her sister to attend mass - they didn´t have to go with their parents, but they had to show up, and if they didn´t, the neighbors and people from the pueblo would tattle on them to their parents. I wonder if there are still parents who do this, or if that´s something that changed with the last generation - most of the young Spanish students I teach aren´t even remotely religious, something I attributed to perhaps the globalization of Capitalism since most of these students are born of wealthy parents who don´t need God anymore now they´ve got the "dollar." It´s interesting, anyway. The generation gap here, from all the 2nd- and 3rd-person accounts I´ve gathered in my 3 years in Spain, seems much bigger than in the States. It makes sense, given Spain´s relative young "age" in the non-dictatorial world.

Well then, writing a blog was a useful achievement for Semana Santa. Maybe I´ll pick up the guitar here in a bit, maybe take a walk. Holy Week is good for leisure, this I´ve learned above all. Now if only I were a person who knew what to DO with leisure time ;)

Lessons Not Only Taught

2011-02-05T08:35:00.000-08:00

I woke up today with nothing particular to do. P*s at his first day of work in a long while, on a Saturday of all days, the sun is shining, and I´m sat here on my sunny terrace with time to spare. This is a positive take on what´s seeming more and more like a rather lackluster year-and-a-half spent still living in Granada. The days are so simliar sometimes they blend together and I find myself wondering where entire months have gone. Sure, I can look closely and see all the amazing experiences I´ve had and people I´ve met, see the mountains we´ve literally and figuratively climbed, the beaches we´ve camped on and continued to haunt for entire summers. But the bigger picture, the one that comes to me on days of extra free time (too much time to think!), often confuses me - I see many days or even months spent in confusion, time spent lost in foreign languages and trapped inside myself like a child. I see a young woman who´s often so insecure as to push people away by instinct, keeping them at arm´s length, while paradoxically looking for only a little recognition or reward for simply being herself.

Maybe this need for appreciation I´ve got is innate or human; surely it´s got something to do with my mother; but nearing 30 years of age feels like I´m on the edge of a cliff. Do I jump in heart-and-soul to the decision I made 2 (or 3??) years ago, to travel the world and not put my feet down until I feel truly at peace? Doing that would mean that I eventually must invent what I´m lacking now - some sense of permanence in a foreign land, some kind of HOME - but can people really do that? More importanly, could I? I´ve spent my twenties a bit differently than a lot of people, but what are the products of my sacrifices (family and friends, familiarity and my own culture)? What have I been so eager to set aside who I am, in exchange for...what?

The answer to this has to be that I´ve gained things, learned things, on my journey of living abroad. I´m taking my blog in the direction of these "lessons" that I´ve picked up since leaving the States, and today´s blog is about something I´ve learned to do quite recently.

I´ve learned to listen, and I´ve learned to hear. After several months when I first arrived in Granada, I always walked around town, earphones plugged into ipod. Then one day, after reading an internet article on "noticing" and how you can change your luck by being more spontaneous and breaking normal routines, I conducted an experiment. I unplugged. All at once, I was tuned in to the people I pass every day on my way to work. You can hear so many conversations and sounds in any given walkabout in Granada - lost tourists, people arguing in any language, new lovers´whispers and giggles, young, fresh backpackers unashamed to marvel out loud at things they never dreamed they´d see. I wondered that first day how I´d ever made my way to work without this. It literally puts a smile on my face to marvel at the sweet, confusing music that is a foreign (to me) language. my brain activates and engages my ears; I try to decipher first the hand gestures and the body language, then I take in the rising and descending tones - are they joking or ranting, arguing or making small talk? Somehow by putting all this together, I formulate the little life stories that happen ever day in Granada, the things that to me are the color of human civilization itself - relayed through linguistic communication. It´s probably very far from accurate, my interpretation of what the people are saying, but that doesn´t really matter. I feel relief when I´m hearing or listening to another language and there´s no real pressure to understand everything (to the contrary, it´s quite unnerving if you need to understand). Walking to work becomes an escape when you put so much attention on the external.

That´s a lesson I´ve learned that I couldn´t have experienced had I not left the States. What was the point in studying linguistics if my future was only in the U.S. of A, where principally only ONE language is spoken? Recalling these little gems of experience make me feel a whole lot better about my decision to move so far away from home. I´m going to recall them more often :)

N.O.L.A. or BUST! (as in, my waist line : )

2010-07-15T10:45:00.000-07:00

I´m planning my first trip home to the US of A in over 2 years (less than 2 weeks away)! I´ve been on auto-pilot while lots of stuff has been changing and going on (the end of the academic year, the booking of my flight, the finding of summer work, the starting of summer work and a completely different work schedule, two two-week-long visits from out of towners who don´t speak Spanish OR English, the World Cup, etc etc etc...), and I´m just now realizing how soon I´ll be home. (This of course means I´m just now starting to get freaked out about it.) I´m nervous and don´t really know why. I´m worried I´ll get bored, or gain 15 pounds, or there´ll be a hurricane and I´ll have to evacuate for my whole trip. I´m worried everyone´s lives will have changed so much and I´ll feel guilty for not being there. These are somewhat valid although irrational fears, but instead of letting them take over, I´m going into happiness overdrive and focusing on all the great stuff I´m gonna be doing in just 10 days!!

Having been asked many times in the past month what I want to do when I get home, I hadn´t had time to really think about it and I´ve just told people, "Ehhh, relax and see everybody, I guess." Today is the first time in over 3 weeks that I´ve had to myself and I miraculously have the energy to think about and try to plan my upcoming trip. Turns out, come to think of it, I´ve got quite a lot of stuff to accomplish in just two weeks - almost all of it revolving around FOOD (big surprise from a New Orleanian, eh? NOT).

I´ve started creating an official list of what I want to do in the States/at home, and I was thinking it´d be funny to post what I have to far. This list says a lot about what I miss back at home, about food for which there is absolutely no comparison in Spain. It also says a lot about how unhealthy my favorite New Orleans food is, jaja!

Of course included in my food tour is visiting absolutely everyone that I can since who knows when I´ll get to come back. I´ll need to get creative and incorporate visits and food since I´ve only got 2 weeks...omg, I´m gonna gain 20 pounds!!

Anyway, here´s my list of food I want to eat and stuff I want to bring back to Spain, for your viewing pleasure! What I´ve been missing for almost two years:

Eats & Drinks USA:
Eat Out:
Mushroom & Swiss Burger - Cooter Brown´s
Fried Chicken - Popeye´s
Fried Crawfish po-boy - Domilese´s
Boiled crawfish (probably not possible)
Oysters and crawfish etouffe - Acme
Chinese - Fong´s in Metairie
Thai - Sukho Thai on Royal St.

Eat In:
Fried fish and bbq shrimp - Matt´s house
Lasagña - Gramzie´s house
Gumbo - my Mawmaw´s house
Pizza - anywhere (pizza sucks in Spain!)

Drink:
Mochasippi at CC´s Coffee
Snowball at Audubon Park
Pointsettia at Mimi´s in the Marigny
Hand-grenade in the FQ
Hurricane at Pat-O´s
Thai bubble-tea anywhere

Shopping USA:
Stuff:
Vintage clothes
Okra seeds
DVDs from the dollar bin at Wal-Mart
Frisbee

Food:
Dr. Pepper
Kool-Aid watermelon-cherry mix
Abita beer
Tony´s
Liquid smoke
Curry paste
Hand-made tortillas
Mac-n-cheese
Classic Goldfish crackers

Keep On the Sunny Side

2010-04-26T08:02:00.000-07:00

I feel too much like a whining retard to admit this, but I think I´m getting bored in Spain. Things are humming along this Spring quite nicely, I have nothing to complain about, and yet somehow I´m full of unrest. My mind races at night when I´m trying to sleep, about things I must get done before the summer gets here, about activities I´d like to start up, about what this summer is actually going to be like once I get everything finalized.

Lots of things are up in the air (i.e. my summer work, my summer trip to the U.S., my next academic year...wherever (most likely in Granada)), but that makes this Spring no different from any other since I´ve started teaching EFL. I think the problem is more on the relationship front than I´m willing to admit.

Since moving in together, things with P* have been good...and bad. Ups and Downs, right? Isn´t that what it´s always like? The first few weeks I was in homemaking bliss, happy to discover that my cleanliness and his, though they are thankfully both quite high-standard, are also complementary - I care about where things go, everything in its place, while he actually cares about dust and dirt and streaks on the glass/mirrors. I was happy thinking we were in near-perfect balance with housekeeping, when suddenly one night P* exploded on me without warning. He´d come home from work tired, and because I hadn´t started cooking dinner yet when he arrived, he threw himself into doing it while giving me the cold shoulder. When I got up the guts to ask what was wrong, it came to light that he didn´t think I was cleaning enough! Can you imagine?! ME!!! This was the first time in my life anyone had EVER found fault with me not cleaning enough. (In case you don´t know me very well, I´m quite well-known for being a cleaning control freak and thus a pain in the ass to live with, for most people.) I´ve clearly made too much progress in letting go of my cleanliness control, something I´ve been working on since moving to Spain.

Anyway, after about 2 hrs of struggling to understand one another, I gave up and fled outside to the terrace, where I dropped into a fit of sobbing, gut-wrenching tears more intense that any in a long, long time. I felt like a failure. I felt like all the hopes I´d been building up for my new life here, for this new relationship, this new living situation...all of it is ridiculous and pointless if I keep making mistakes without realizing it. And that´s what this argument was - a list of things that P* had piled up all week long, things that I was doing wrong or simply not doing. I felt like the typical man in the argument, while P* was playing the typical woman - pummelling me with a long list he´d unfairly been storing up. I had to explain to him - I can´t avoid doing something he doesn´t like, or do things that he does like, if he doesn´t TELL ME he wants me to (not) do them! I´m not an effing mind reader! And he was frustrated too, the whole ¨I shouldn´t have to TELL you what I want! I ¨just want you to think about ME and just be considerate!¨And then I´m thinking, ¨Yeah, YOUR idea of what a considerate person is must be different from my idea. That´s why you have to COMMUNICATE!¨ Oh god, and it went on and on like that for another couple of hours, and we didn´t really make any progress.

The whole time I was crying, I kept thinking about the dream I´d had the night before - it was about my ex-b/f, I*. It was the first time in a loooong time I´d dreamt about him, and I wasn´t sure why I had. In the heat of the argument, I realized why: maybe it´s residual guilt feelings from the way that relationship ended, but I´m starting to see myself in this relationship with P*, except I´m seeing me as I*, and P* as me. I feel like all of a sudden I can understand a lot of the things I* used to complain about, the way he used to react when I got upset - he always tried to please me, to do what he thought I wanted, but most of the time I was never very clear about what I wanted and I expected him to somehow just sense, or magically know, what I wanted. Looking back, I wasn´t very fair during these arguments. It was my failure to communicate what I wanted, not his inability to give me what I wanted, that was the problem. I had this epiphany during my crying spell on the terrace, and I wanted to vomit from feeling so guilty. Karma is a bitch, eh? At least the realization of all this helped me to communicate to P*, as if I was talking to myself. I think he learned a bit about me, and maybe I figured some stuff out. It ended well, at least.

Of course there have been lots of other arguments since we moved in together in March, but none so mind-fucking as that one. I think we´ve more or less recovered, but the future will always bring further challenges - many of which to me feel like looming storm clouds which will inevitably burst when I´m not paying attention. But of course that´s only today´s perspective. Tomorrow´s forecast is sunny; gotta hope for the best, eh?

The Holy Enchilada

2010-03-07T06:22:00.001-08:00

February flew by, and there's little to mention other than my unfortunate laptop incident. We were watching something on P*'s computer while my laptop nearby was downloading something, and in one swift move, wherein I was intending to be slick and romantically ease my boyfriend into a horizontal position, I knocked the laptop off the bed and it landed gently on its side, on the floor. I picked it up and the only thing wrong was that end of the adapter cable was bent where it plugs into the laptop. I straightened it manually and re-booted. Strange flashes appeared on the screen, and I started freaking out. I bought a new adapter on ebay and waited for it to arrive. In the meanwhile, I did what I shouldn't have and tried to find ways to rig the broken adapter cord into working - I stuck it into the power source as firmly as possible and propped it up for as long as it would last. Then the new adapter arrived, and when I plugged it in, everything worked fine. Except...the keyboard wouldn't allow me to type more than one letter without rebooting. So I sent it off to be inspected, and the problem was small, just a lack of power for the screen to function, which the new adapter took care of. Except the guy wasn't able to find the mechanical problem connected with the keyboard malfuntion. And the mouse pad doesn't work either. Great. So now I'll probably buy an external Spanish keyboard and use it until I get enough money scraped together for a new computer. NOT a good thing for my savings plan.

Other than that technical dificulty, this Spring has been good. The weather is absolute shit - rain, hard winds and cold, cold, cold all the time. 2012 is coming. (Since the film, Spanish ppl say this a lot: "Viene el dos-mil-doce!"). But somehow keeping myself so busy with work, and also with my recent move into a new apartment, I don't dwell too much on the lack of sun. The new apartment came as a surprise - P* was looking for single studios when he got notice that he had to move out before March 1st, and he came upon a 2-brm attic apartment just 20 meters from my house. There are two bedrooms, two terraces (one communal, shaded, with a view of the Alhambra and Sierra Nevadas, the other private and uncovered), a big salon, and tiny but functional kitchen and teeny bathroom. We're having a party this weekend to warm the new piso, plus it's my birthday :) It's weird to think of myself as 28, and to think this Wednesday also marks my 2-yr anniversary of living in Spain. Time is a weird thing.

Anyway, not much else to report. I'm cold.

As the (Personal) World Turns...

2010-02-06T05:34:00.000-08:00

Outside of work, the personal life has also brought new challenges. I spent last weekend up in Prado Negro, a pueblo in the mountains above Granada. We went hiking about 8 km up above the house where our friends live - through piles and piles of beautiful, glistening snow. I'm somewhat ashamed to admit that it was the first time I'd seen that much snow EVER in my LIFE (about mid-thigh-deep). I made a snow angel and got bathed in the obligatory "snow virgin snowball fight" before we climbed down a freakishly steep cliff to cross over a waterfall (the only reason we were able to get across is it was covered in snow...which was also what made it very dangerous and difficult).

Walking all that way, on a continuous incline no less, I became emotionally introspective despite the 5 friends happily chattering all around me (mostly in French, which might have contributed a bit too). I had a sort of epiphany about myself and physical challenges: I don't like to be on display at these times. Parts of the climb were...not difficult, but not necessarily things I was prepared to do when we left the warm comfort of the house that morning. In my mind, we were 6 friends out to leisurely explore the snow and breathe a bit of fresh air - not climb tediously over jagged rocks and prickly plants all afternoon for the sake of "sport." Because I didn't have a clear idea of what we would be doing (I probably should have guessed, based on the super professional outdoor/athletic gear our friend Rosa changed into before we left), I was unpleasantly surprised each time Rosa and her b/f Sylvain directed us further away from their house, up, up, and up the mountain over muddy, ice-covered patches of land that were nearly impossible to pass through with my pseudo-sporty New Balances (the only athletic shoe I own here in Spain) [side-note: everyone else in our walking party was wearing Merrill-type hiking shoes or boots, most of them water-proof, while I returned with freezing-cold, sopping-wet feet up to my mid-calves]. Anyway, there were moments of the day when I felt quite on-display about my lack of enthusiasm to get past the mountain's obstacles, and quite singled-out as the misfit in our group, and I worried that these people would see me as unadventurous or non-athletic. So I stayed quiet and focused on my balance when the terrain got slippery, I kept up my breathing instead of talking the whole way, and in doing this, I think I (unavoidably) pissed off my b/f just a bit.

Later, I thought about a story of my American friend M*, whose Spanish b/f is really outdoorsy and likes to go hiking and trampling through the woods and stuff. M* and I come from the same basic city background, where it's just not normal to go out in the nature and hang around (no electricity? then what's there to DO out there??). We have that in common, but we differ in terms of athletic experience: though I never really liked hanging out in the woods, I've always been relatively athletic in terms of extra-curricular activities; however, M* has never gotten into sports, based on her personal interests and tastes, and while that's different from my experience, I can totally get it - my philosophy is basically that physical effort for the sake of physical effort is DUMB (i.e. wasting hours at the gym) - if you incorporate a healthy amount of physical activity into your daily life, or do fun things that are mildly physical, this is a much better way to stay healthy and fit (hello?! dropping 7 pants sizes simply by walking instead of driving!).

Anyway, M* told me once about a day she went "walking" up in Jaen with her b/f and some of his friends. The "walk" turned out to be a hike, and there was a rather treacherous rope-bridge to cross, too. She broke down and cried a lot of the way, and her b/f was disturbed and confused and irritated at this behavior, and they had a big fight in the end. In retrospect, she realized the problem was she wasn't properly informed of what they would be doing, not to mention this type of thing isn't something she's done very often in her life, and most problematic was that her disgraceful reaction to this new experience was being witnessed by others who found the activity easy and fun (including the man whose opinion is most important to her). After the hike this weekend, I identify a lot with M*'s story, and remembering it helped me to cut myself some slack here. I used this story to explain my odd behavior to my b/f afterwards, and I think maybe he gets it now: yes, I like challenges and trying new things, and of course I'm open to different ideas of what's "fun," but I'm still allowed to get a little emotional (read: frustrated, caught off-guard, reluctant…) during new experiences, and it's not exactly easy to go through all that in front of people you barely know.

When we got back to the house, we drank tea and sat in the sun to dry out our feet, and we ate a tasty lunch and chilled out as the sun went down. It wasn’t the perfect snowy mountain climb, but it was my first, and I can rest easy knowing the next time I do it, I’ll know what to expect and be able to enjoy it a lot more. I’ll post pics of my first real snow day when I get them uploaded J

As the TEFL World Turns...

2010-02-06T03:55:00.001-08:00

Things have been...well, pretty great lately. I'm working an all-time BIG number of hours a week for me (28.5...the average number of hours per week for a TEFL teacher is around 25). And while the busy schedule doesn't leave much time for essential activities (eating lunch, for example), my American nature of "work work work" allows me to cope remarkably well. It's like what everyone says: give me just one important task to complete in a day, and I somehow won't find the energy to get it done; give me twenty, and I'll knock them all out, one-by-one, and still have time to cook and eat a nice dinner. It feels good to be productive, and I'm learning little tricks like preparing an energy-packed lunch to take with me before I leave the house on days when I don't have any breaks between classes [side-note: 3 days a week now, I'm teaching for 7 hours straight, with not even 5 minutes between each class to stop and pee or wolf down an apple]. The plus side is that time flies by on class days, and payday is SWEET :)

The increase in my teaching hours comes from one or two classes that I picked up from a teacher that left our academy last semester, plus two others which represent milestones for me: private classes taught OUTSIDE of established English schools. I was really nervous, for some reason, when one of these students first approached me about classes at his apartment. My mind raced with questions: is it a good idea to have class in the student's home (especially when the student is an adult male)? is there any way I might get screwed here (in terms of getting paid in full and on time)? am I going to burn bridges here with the two academies that I feel unexplainably loyal to? In the end, I went with my gut and arranged these two classes privately with the students, and they're going SO well! Not only do I receive 50% more money for teaching these classes (I don't have to give a "cut" of the profits to an academy), but the students pay me less than they would pay an official English academy - everybody wins, and I think my private students appreciate my time and efforts more than the students I teach in schools.

Around the time that all this was getting started (about a month ago, over the Christmas holidays), I coincidentally talked with a friend and former teacher at my main academy who's now running his own "school" - which basically means he's got his own business cards and teaches all in-house, private classes, exactly what I'm doing with the 2 students now. Apparently, he's got so many students wanting classes, he's outsourcing now and "hiring" other teachers to manage the overflow. A light bulb went off in my head as he passed me his card: this is what good, smart TEFL teachers do - they run their own "mini-business". But don't get me wrong here - I'm glad that these past two years I've spent my time working within the system, "paying my dues" as a relatively inexperienced TEFL teacher. I've learned a lot from putting in my time in the established schools, but next year I think I'll be ready to start downsizing the hours I put in at academies and accepting "independent" teaching ventures as often as possible. Especially when you consider the fact that my salary is 50% less per hour at the academies, PLUS the fact that without an official contract there I'm losing money that would cover my healthcare and citizenship costs, it just doesn't make cents or sense to keep shoveling TEFL manure in the schools.

Professionally, 2010 is looking good ;)

Today is Now Tomorrow

2010-01-14T16:06:00.000-08:00

I’m watching The Day After Tomorrow at the moment (don’t judge - we’re all worthy of a little Hollywood trash cinema once in a while), and it’s making me think about who I’d want to be with if the world froze over. [Interesting side note/middle-of-the-moment realization: I taught the Second Conditional today J ]. If I could fit every person I care about onto one huge platform, it’d be a pretty big platform [OMG, I can’t stop!].

The question becomes more difficult if you limit it to one or two people. I mean - do you choose the obvious (your lover/mate/companion/whatever), or do you choose your kids (or if, like me, you don’t have kids, your parents)? Love or family? Family or love? Which is more important for your long-term happiness? Oddly enough, this is something I’ve been struggling with for a while. I think I’ve chosen love, at the sacrifice of having my family so far away as to be almost non-existent in my life sometimes. I get caught up in moments when I wonder why this has happened (why I’ve let this happen), and whether it’s not going to cause some huge conflict in the long run, my love life somehow in turmoil because I’m out of touch with my kin.

On a related yet positive note, this is partly what led to my resolution to pick up the phone more, and I’m happy to report that I’ve talked to three family members and friends back in the States in the past week, plus seen (in person!) and visited with three best friends in Granada, plus had some great conversations with work mates. Hoo-ray for talky times J

This has been a really difficult week, picking up the old work routine at a runner’s pace, and I’ve felt more stressed and anxious than ever, but the social activity is really helping my mental state. I feel optimistic about most things, and I’m looking forward to seeing how some of my students perform on their exams this semester. I started this week with 4 new classes (1 group of young teens and 3 individual students) , which had me in fits trying to figure out my new planning schedule, but now that it’s over, I really enjoyed all of them. There are only 3 teenagers in the group class, and despite my reservations about teaching group kid classes, they’re actually quite charming in their awkward prepubescent way. Each of them has a really distinct personality, and I get a kick out of watching them interact. And they’re certainly not scary anymore, which is a milestone for me. I think that workshop on Classroom Management at the TEFL conference in Seville really changed my perspective on kids/teen classes. I’ve somehow figured out that they’re just little robots in a way - all you have to do is keep their attention so they don’t get bored, and that’s easy enough to learn how to do once you know what they’re into, which is just a matter of picking from a grab bag of popular media/entertainment. After that, give them “treats” like they're little puppies, and they’ll roll over and (try to) speak good English for you as long as you want them to - or as long as your class lasts! It feels good to have conquered my fear, most of all.

I was really worried about one of my new private classes with an adult student (it’s my first class done outside of an academy, so I want it to go well and possibly lead to more students), and though I had a directions snafu while finding his house (I left them at home!), the lesson went really well and I learned a lot about the student in just an hour and a half - he‘s a really careful learner, even meticulous. It was great because I think I identify a lot with this guy - his embarrassment is extreme when he makes a mistake, and I can see the wheels turning as he files the moment away so as not to repeat the error. I imagine that I have the exact same look on my face when I’m speaking Spanish. I want so hard to get it not just ok, but perfect! It will be interesting to teach a fellow perfectionist. I feel like I have more than just language teaching for this one - I also have a lot of advice (does that sound overbearing?).

It’s the end of the world in the movie now, everything’s frozen and it’s making me feel cold. And I’ve got to turn off my gas heater so I don’t die in my sleep. Suck, suck, suck.

Realizations and Resolutions

2010-01-09T06:00:00.000-08:00

Lately I’ve had trouble sleeping. It started innocently enough, due to a series of ear/nose/throat infections that made it difficult to breathe, and thus to get my much-needed shut-eye. But the holidays this year brought more than the usual rest and relaxation for this TEFL teacher. My 2.5 weeks off gave my body plenty of time to repair and heal, but it’s as if all the physical symptoms of illness suddenly became psychosomatic and moved up into my brain. I’ve spent almost every night of this holiday season tossing and turning in bed, my mind filled with questions and uncertainties about the upcoming year and what it has in store for me.

Perhaps the most pressing of these questions and uncertainties for me is “Where will I be living next year? Still in Granada, or another city in Spain perhaps? Or am I finally ready to start a new chapter in Mexico and South America?” The answer to these question is rooted in other questions - the possibility of my TEFL academy getting me a work visa so that I can live in Spain/Europe legally and not have to pinch and save every dime for when I have health problems, or conversely, if they refuse to apply for my visa, will they give me a pay raise so that I can fund my healthcare on my own? In order to manage this “problem,” I’ve presented the idea to the owner of the academy, and time will tell what his decision is. There’s nothing more to do than to wait - easier said than done, of course.

Tied to the decision of what country to live in is the fact that now I’ve invested a huge percentage of myself in a romantic relationship with a European citizen. As to whether that will all end in tears and heartbreak, again, waiting is all I can do. Meanwhile, my doubts about the future hover over me like the storm clouds above Granada that never seem to go away. I find myself in moments of panic, without any explanation as to why I feel so anxious, and I’m beginning to “pull out” emotionally because I’m not sure what all my relationship efforts are worth if they won’t (geographically) withstand the test of time.

These are the two most important factors in my sleeplessness, and also in my relationship strife. Typically, I take these types of “mental crises” in stride, my ration combating with the dangerous emotional overflow that often comes in cycles for women. I use my scientist’s ability to reason, and I (over)analyze all the self-doubt and insecurity that drives me to sometimes make bad decisions in the heat of the moment with my partner. Trouble is, my partner has become my one and only confidant.

I know enough about myself from relationship experiences in the past to know that this is a pattern for me - if I’m content in a romantic relationship, most other friendships become less important to me and I start to put all of my eggs in one basket, so-to-speak. This is natural for me, but that’s not to say isn’t toxic at the same time (though I’ve read that this is ‘normal’ for a lot of people, the adage after all says, “DON‘T put all your eggs in one basket.”). Lately, I’ve noticed my partner’s face as I begin to think out loud, laying my troubles on the table, looking for empathy. I haven’t decided yet if the look on his face in these moments is one of confusion, frustration, or discomfort, but my guess is it’s a combination of the three, and when I see it I instantly feel nauseous. When I note this look, my instinct is to shut up and stop seeking his advice because I know he wants to run for the door, which then leaves me pent-up with emotional overflow that nevertheless will find some way to exert itself in our daily interactions with one another.

In recognizing how damaging it can be to rely on just one person for all your emotional needs, I’ve realized there’s only so much your partner can do for you. For me, this usually requires just an active ear and open mind, mainly to listen, and only to offer me advice when/if I ask for it. But the tendency when I start talking about my worries and insecurities is for my partner to try to solve whatever problems there may be by giving simple suggestions as to what I should do to manage them. Innocent enough intentions, of course, but something in me just boils over when I hear those words: “You should do X.” or “You need to Y.” I want to scream, “Of course I should do that! I’m not an idiot, I know how to take care of this stuff, I’m not asking you to fix it for me!” Truth is, there’s a very thin and delicate balance between offering suggestions to someone (what I don’t want at these times) and saying whatever needs to be said to calm my worries and make me realize I’m strong enough to overcome my problems (of which the exact words are often difficult to define, even for me). I think the distinction between these two is easier for women to discern, and I’m learning to be patient in these moments and realize that in those harmless suggestions my partner really is trying his best to be empathic - his intentions are good, so there’s really no need to get defensive. I think he’s learning too, in baby steps, how to be empathic without seeming domineering.

I don’t consider myself a particularly emotional, albeit sensitive, person, and in every problem I come up against I always look for the most rational solution possible. In the grand scheme of things, the main solution is to WAIT. And to manage all the secondary “seedling” problems, I need to nurture my friendships outside of my romantic relationship more. Obviously, it puts unnecessary and overwhelming pressure on a relationship if each person doesn’t have more than the one outlet for emotional sound-boarding. I’ve got to take initiative this year in picking up the phone, investing in more social activities despite the stress they might impose on my work life. After all, the main thing I embrace about my new life in Spain is the fact that life isn’t all “work, work, work.” People here know when to leave the job at the door and focus on what’s really important - the people in your life and the things you love to do. I guess the American in me still struggles with that, and probably always will.

So, while I don’t expect my insomnia to go away overnight, I’m hoping that in acknowledging some of the negative things I’ve been doing on “auto-pilot” in 2009, I can take action now to repair whatever damage they’ve caused and use new ambition to start making positive changes. Above all, I have to believe in me and in the probability that things will work out in the end. I’ve waited months and even years in the past for things that I wanted to happen; what’s another few?

That said, you can likely expect a call from me sooner or later - if you’re in the States, it’ll be to catch up, and if you’re in Spain, it’ll be to go for coffee or tapas one day soon. You’re all on my radar; I hope this resolution sticks.

People Who Need People

2009-10-09T12:09:00.000-07:00

I'm in a strange state of ambivalence at the moment - one part of me feels like it wants to stay inside and watch old movies, cook a good meal and drink some good wine, while the other is frantic and anxious for any opportunity to run hysterically from the quiet comfort of my house.

It's 9:00pm on a Friday night, the first day of my 4-day weekend (due to a festival on Monday, school is closed). I woke up this morning after a night of a bit too much vino feeling quite good, considering, and did some yoga before washing up and sitting down to a good breakfast. I realized this week that I'd earned a little more in September than I'd anticipated, so I decided I can squeeze a new winter coat out of this month's budget, and this is the weekend I chose to do my coat shopping. I've now returned from my coat search empty-handed and strangely frazzled from the experience. I feel like crying, and I don't know why.

I really need people. It blows my mind how strong my conviction is to avoid calling people just for the sake of company. I convince myself that I'm happier alone, that I can be more productive if I stay home, that I don't want to stay out late at night and waste the next day's morning, that I'll just be bored when I meet up with whoever for drinks...knowing full well that's a load of BS. Is this social anxiety disorder?? Do I need professional help, or just a good gal pal?

The situation is dire: I will not make it through 4 days of free time without a single conversation with a live, face-to-face human. Just being in the shops today for 3 hours or so, alone with my headphones plugged in to avoid having to talk to any of the shop clerks, was enough to set me on edge. I feel like I want to jump off a cliff. Or into a good chat...preferably with someone who doesn't suck.

A little gloom never hurt anybody

2009-10-04T11:26:00.000-07:00

How personal should you allow yourself to be via blog?? I'm a person who never wanted to be the type of person who blogs (judgmental, maybe?), but I succumbed about 2 years ago, citing the excuse that it's an easy way to update friends and family, all at once, while living abroad. Easy enough justification. Yet no matter how surface-level I try to keep things when I'm writing a new post, some part of me wants to slide into introspection - perhaps due to the cathartic nature of the writing process itself, but I'm afraid it's also because the only time I find to blog is when I'm B-O-R-E-D, (a.k.a. - a little bit depressed).

So, disclaimer: this one is going to be a bit personal, a bit of a purge of self doubts and insecurities and unneccessary worries, although to be point-blank honest about the current state of my life in all sectors (professional, romantic, physical/health), most people have the right to kick me for complaining.

But first, I want to give thanks (to keep things in balance, of course):
Since moving to Spain, I've come into myself. It no longer seems weird to call myself a "woman," and though I don't even know what the world's definition of that is anymore, I'm proud to say I've got my own and I fit it to a T. I'm not afraid of the future anymore, and I'm not sure if that's just a milestone that comes for everyone at a certain point in life or if it's something to feel good about that I've reached it at all, and especially so young. Whatever the reason, I feel secure in myself and my place in the world - and I'm humbled daily by what a big, big world it is, and what a small, small place I hold. This is not to say that I'm naiive, that I think because life is going so well for me now that nothing bad could ever change it all, but just to say I'm thankful to have what I do, and to be open enough to recognize and appreciate it.

That being said, despite all the positive self-development that's happened since moving abroad, I'm shockingly aware as the months drift by of my inequities, namely my glaring lack of a social life. There are things that I want for myself (hello - friends!!!) and that, though I know what I want and how to get it, for the life of me, I can't bring myself to just go out there and get. And I wonder, if I'm so sure that I'm sure about who I am at this point in my life, what's stopping me from making my life not just what I'm comfortable with but what I wholeheartedly want it to be? Some possible culprits come to mind:

1) Laziness
I love my father and that side of my family to a ridiculous degree, but of course love comes with seeing and accepting the faults of the ones you care about. I'm not blind to my father's family's lazy streak - which is so acknowledged amongst the Knox's as to be joked about as if it were an inherited trait. Making light of our faults is fine and all, but I've secretly always been terrified of being lazy. This logically has more to do with my mother and stepfather constantly telling me and my older brother we were lazy-ass good-for-nothings who didn't appreciate what we had. I grew up with my mother and didn't have contact with my father or his family thoughout my formative years, and so never knew their laziness until I was adult enough to see it for what it was, which is fortunate I guess. But in the back of my mind, as scary as it is to admit, I'd be remiss to ignore my inner sloth that, when the heat is on, wants to just retreat under the covers and sleep til 4:00pm, or until someone just happens to come along or call me and I have a reason to get out of bed. It's fine to joke about a behavior as an inherited trait, but I think my laziness is genetic - otherwise, how do you explain my being lazy if I never had the "nurture" side from my father's influence? My mother might be a nut-bag, but she's anything but lazy; my father's Achilles heel is undoubtedly his laziness. So, admission is the first step. Now what??

2) Fear
I think I've always been afraid, deep down to my core, of other people. I'm afraid of what they think, afraid of creating conflict, afraid of disappointing others and missing out on opportunties. Lately, my laziness and my fear have been having fireside get-togethers, collaborating and having a fine old time getting to know one another, so now when one has a 'great idea,' the other's always there to back him up for support. When fear sets out to prevent me from putting myself out there, from strolling down to the neighborhood bar where my friend works just because I have nothing better to do than buy a beer so I can chat with her for an hour, my laziness kicks in and says, "Eh, you'd rather not go down there anyway - the conversation is always mediocre." I justify my own chicken-shitness (fear of looking like a retard in front of my friend because I go in there all the time by myself, so eventually she'll notice I'm probably just lonely or bored - both true) by convincing myself I'm happier to spend almost my entire weekend at home, alone in my room playing guitar or wasting time on the internet. Trouble is, though I'm completely aware of this and I know exactly what I want (to make new friends that I can count on, and to have "social outing options" at least 4 nights a week) and what I need to do to make it happen (go out more, call the few friends that I have more, make myself more available, etc.), something always stops me from it because I feel vulnerable and I hate feeling like that. Fear, like everything in life, is cyclical.

I hate that every time I write about insecurities it sounds like I need to read a self-help book. I guess the point of all this is to chronicle the fact that this stuff is in my head, too, despite the many good things which I write about in my blog, which are in no way diminished by the presence of negativity from time to time. I'm still generally happy, but there's always room for improvement, right? Hopefully, my improvement at this stage will come in the way I want it to, and like everything in life, I'll have to get around to putting some effort into it. Otherwise, it won't be worth a euro-cent.

Among (many) other things...

2009-10-03T16:30:00.000-07:00

October has arrived.

Professionally, this year has been great. For the record, having a full-time position kicks way more ass than piecing your schedule together hour-by-hour in the first few months of teaching, when it's never a complete month's worth of classes anyway so you have to prepare for small(er) paychecks. I'm teaching 4 full-to-the-brim group classes (12-13 students each) at my main academy, and rounding out the week with a few 1:1's for that school and also some for my other school, with three students that I worked with last year who asked specifically for me again this year :) I've hit the ground running as of September 14 with a whopping 22-hrs/week, which ain't peanuts for a teacher's schedule. I count this as a success, and if I ever feel tired or worn out at the end of the day, my solace is in the recollection of the 40+ hours per week that I used to put in when I lived in the States - I truly don't understand why the American population doesn't just up and riot in the streets the way Europeans do about being overworked. I think they'd be surprised how effectively it could change the way of life there, for the better of most individuals. Also a plus this year is the fact that 2 days a week, my day starts at 4:00pm!! And the other 2 days, it's 12:00noon, and then on Fridays I've got one 1:1 class at 6:15pm that's so easy to teach I could sleep through it. Viva Espana!!

As for the specifics of my classes, I couldn't be happier. While 1:1's are my bread and butter (it's like Jerry Macguire when he says, "Send me into the living room - it's my thing."), and while I may have had more than one near nervous breakdown in the first week of group classes this year (going cold-turkey, from no classes for 2 months, outside of cheeky camp kids, to 12 pairs of adult eyes staring back at you which are each paying a shitload of money for your language instruction, can be quite unsettling), I have somehow found my niche in front of groups. Sure, there are days when I feel like planning straight out of a coursebook is a complete and utter cop-out, which of course makes me feel like a failure of a teacher, but most of the time it's days when I still plan out of the coursebook but by being a few simple steps ahead of the students, I can grab their attention and hold it for an hour and a half solid. I'm learning to be less of a perfectionist, I guess, and to cut myself a little slack - meaning, the coursebooks are there for you to use them, so why make work harder than it needs to be by trying to come up with a lesson plan all on your own?? (Note: this is what I have ALWAYS tried and struggled to do, since Day 1 of my TEFL course. BAD IDEA!! It just means MORE WORK, and not necessarily better work.) Meanwhile, I'm still able to answer any quick-fire question thrown my way ("How do you translate the word 'just' into Spanish?" or "Why isn't "helpful" the opposite of "helpless"?), and I get a little rush in my chest, seeing the impressed looks on my students faces when I'm able to just lay it out for them.

In other news, I've moved into a new house - wow, I guess I should have led off with that. I felt like staying in Granada another year was a bit cowardly, so in order to keep challenging myself I set a goal of NOT moving back into Casa de Tina, where I spent the last year and some-odd months. I have fond memories of that place, of course, but then again it had its problems. I arrived back in Granada after a week of much-needed summer camp deflation in Madrid, homeless and about to start work in 5 days. Some friends of Pierre let me crash at their awesome 2-story condo high up above the city while I looked for apartments, and luck was definitely on my side when I called the first ad I saw on Loquo.com for a piso in the Albayzin (my old neighborhood). I went in and immediately fell in love with the place, which had all the charm and history of the Albayzin carmens but was much better cared for and peaceful than my last accommodations. I told the landlord I was very interested but still not sure, and then 2 hours afterwards while walking around and mulling it over, I called and said I'd take it. I've got a private bedroom in a 3-bedroom house (1 of which is the landlord, Ana's, and another which was recently rented to a nice woman from Greece, here studying for her Doctorate), with shared bathroom (with a tub!), salon, and kitchen. The best part - my room opens up with double doors to a terrace that runs the length of the whole house and lets in wonderful sunshine, and there's enough space in my room to do yoga here :)

I'm really happy in my new place, but it's strange how uncomfortable I feel sometimes around my housemates. I guess that's just a part of communal living, and especially doing it in a foreign language, it's bound to be a bit weird at first. But what's funny is how little speaking Spanish plays a part in any discomfort for me now. Sometimes I find myself alone, thinking or mumbling some off-hand comment, and it comes first in Spanish. ("Que fuerte!?") And I never feel pressured or awkward or locked inside myself from speaking Spanish, the way I did when in France for example or when I first got here to Spain - if I struggle for a word, I just blatantly ask what it is and someone tells me. I file it away and move on through the conversation. I guess my tolerance for this comes from more confidence in my Spanish and also from the time being forced to use it, and maybe also from the classroom where I'm constantly reminded and forced to sympathize with how difficult it is to try to express yourself in another language. Anyway, the awkwardness with Ana and the Greek lady (don't even know her name! but we've had at least 5 lengthy conversations so far, makes me feel really bad!) gets better every day, with every occasion that we have to speak to one another (sometimes there's just no need, so I don't initiate - I think this is part of my problem. I'm sheepish.). Ana and her girlfriend, Yolanda, who's here so often she practically lives here, asked me the other day what state I'm from, and when I said not Louisiana but New Orleans, they flipped out! They were asking me all these questions about Katrina and carnaval (Mardi Gras to us cajuns), about the food and the architecture. I told them when the weather gets cold, if I can find the right ingredients, I'd try to make them my MawMaw's gumbo :)

As for negatives, the weather's getting cold now and my skin's drying out. But I've found a loophole for healthcare through the Spanish system, if I can get my landlord to file the paperwork for me, so maybe I'll get to see a dermatologist here in the next few months! Plus a dentist, a gyno, an allergist (!!!). Hallelujah, eh? All is not lost. Also, Pierre will be moving here from France in a few weeks, so I won't be so lonely in my free time anymore.

That's about it, as for updates. Hope this wasn't too boring!!

Lost in Language

2009-07-12T10:52:00.000-07:00

I've been here in Marmande for about 2 weeks now. I've eaten the best petit-fours in Toulouse and I've shopped the biggest sales of the year in Bourdeaux (and guzzled lots of their wine). All the while, I'm picking up French words here and there, which is thrilling and whatnot, but I can't seem to get comfortable with not having a damned clue what's going on in the conversations around me.

I can't ask simple questions of the new people I meet to get to know them better; I can't make small-talk with the lovely people in the boulangeries; I'm lucky when someone in the group knows a bit of either English or Spanish, but I don't get my hopes up, ever; I just put on a placid smile wherever I go (sometimes it's actually genuine) and wear my heart on my sleeve and wait for the human interaction around me to slow down or stop so that I can ask Pierre what the hell was discussed. Sometimes, I wish I hadn't asked. My patience waxes and wanes throughout my struggle to meet people, be myself and make whatever connections are possible with what little language faculty that I have. I find myself feeling so alone, so trapped inside my own skin, the words I'm dying to express just swirling around like a windstorm in my mind, and there's no window to open and let out all the built-up pressure. I get really sad when I find myself in a moment and realize how much I'm missing out on - whether it be random drunken stories told by friends who haven't seen each other in years; subtle nuances in the ways in which people are interacting that would tell me much more about how I should conduct myself here; or just plain small talk between a shop clerk and a customer, the things that make them smile or chuckle or make a strange face as they are buying their groceries. I miss out on all of that because of language, and I figure out some way to guess at the meaning of everything by watching intently like a child. Having your language removed reduces you to a child. It's ridiculously humbling.

I'm taking this as a lesson I need to learn if I want to be a true teacher and especially if I want to travel the world. Here, I'm learning how it feels to have your most self-defining asset (language) utterly stripped from you, to the concern of no one around you, and how to cope with that feeling, manage it, and use it as a tool rather than a hindrance. That tactic I mention above, how I'm learning to pay attention to body language and verbal cues rather than the literal meaning of the sounds I hear - that's a bit of what I'm talking about here. I know I'll be all right, hell I may even come out of this remembering a bit of French! But it's not just a mental process, I guess is what I'm just now figuring out; it's also very much an emotional one.

There's another saddening aspect of learning French for me. I truly love learning new words and hearing the sounds of forign tongues change as I become more and more accustomed to them. But at some point, the French that I heard on occasion which had such a magnetic and alluring mystery to it now just sounds like simple funtional noise, nothing to really marvel at. It's like how people say the more you learn about something, the less you want to learn, or something like that. This feels to me like a coming of age story, like it was inevitable that I had to figure out some time that languages are more than just hypnotic sounds that make my ears perk up to distinguish them or figure out where they come from. Language isn't some mystical, intangible frivolity of nature but a direct, purposeful and unbearably functional manifestation of it. I've always been most fond of art that serves a functional purpose - pottery, if you will, or a decorative coat rack. I guess I should think of language not as one or the other - not a mysterious artform without purpose, and neither a staunch and scientific machine. It's a bit of both - look at poetry, for example. That's one of the aspects of language that most fascinates me, how we can study something to infinity, but at the end of the day there's always something new to learn about it and be awed and inspired by.

Here's to life lessons!

France and stuff

2009-07-01T05:41:00.000-07:00

Let's see...where to begin? I left Granada last Saturday and spent a total 14 hours travelling by bus to San Sebastian, where I spent my last official night in Spain for the next month. During the ride, I had a connecting bus to switch to but didn't realize it was at a different station in Madrid, so I obviously missed that one, but all I can say about that now is THANK GOD for ticket insurance with ALSA! All worked out in the end and it only meant 1 extra hour of travel time, and NO extra cost to me for a new bus ticket. It was cool to see the andalucian landscape gradually change during the ride. I did the cheesy tourist thing and took pictures from the bus of the sun setting over the green Basque country mountains.

The next day, I crossed the border by car into France and bought cigarettes en la frontera. Driving up the Atlantic coast, we stopped and I got my first view of the Atlantic from the other side. I was thrilled to see signs written in French. We stayed with Pierre's 'aunt and uncle', who are perfectly liberal French hippie types who have a penchant for French beer, an enormous 'herb' garden, and thus a very laid-back approach to life. I spent my first official day in France sitting at a table surrounded by lovely French people, smoking and drinking Rioja and Bourdeaux, eating european pizza, French cheese, and Spanish chorizo in a lovely garden until sundown. There was a break in between where we went to lie in the sunshine near a lake, and I got some guitar time in. I spoke in Spanish the entire time, far too nervous to break out what little French I barely know, but amazingly, my comprehension was quite good! I was able to follow the conversation and participate quite a bit with the help of translation from Pierre, and his aunt spoke decent Spanish so there was that too. I did go to bed more exhausted than I remembered being for a long time - it was the kind of fatigue that comes from being locked into another language, unable to truly follow the conversation of a group of people without putting every ounce of effort into listening and translating and processing the whole time - I think I did pretty damned well, considering we were talking for a total of about 10 hours all-told!

The next day, I got kinda sunburnt on one of the most remote beaches I've seen in my life. We took a break to eat lunch (hamburgers - real, non-Spanish ones!!) and then drove up the coast to the biggest sand dune in Europe (the Dune du Pila). We climbed up the dune and were met with the blazing sun cast over Sahara-sized sand dunes, with the tranquil Atlantic meeting them down at the bottom. Stretching out in the other direction from the ocean were over 300 miles of French forest, one of the biggest in Europe as well. Pierre and I sat on the dunes taking sun for a while, left and said goodbye to our wonderful hosts, and drove 2 hours to his house in the countryside near Bourdeaux. We had one day of chillax-down-time yesterday, and today he's off to work while I try to soak up the Frenchness.

As for talleys: so far, I've tried 3 French beers, all of which were excellent and one of which I was already very fond (Stella Artois); I've eaten locally raised duck confit (amazing) and ground horse (very similar to hamburger but with a distinctively different flavor); I've bought bread at a boulangerie; and I've noticed so many similarities between France and New Orleans, France and the United States, the French language and the English language...this looks to be the beginning of an eye-opening holiday.

And then there was blah...

2009-06-17T08:45:00.000-07:00

I'm rounding out my final trimester of the academic year, it's excruciatingly hot in Granada, and I am awestruck by how ambivalent I feel about leaving this city for two months. On the one hand, I can't wait to escape the heat, the crowds, the super energetic pace of Spanish life; and on the other hand, I have this panic feeling in my guts when I think about it, like I need to spend each day until the 27th (when I leave for France) soaking up all of the familiar Granada that I can get.

The next few months, though only a short interim between this academic year and the next, will be quite a change for me. I'll spend the first month in southern France (where I will know NOTHING of the language - frankly, I'm terrified), then the second teaching again at summer camp. No more running around, trying to make it to class in time. No more crazy nights out with members of the house. When I get back to Granada, all the people living here will have changed, and I'll find a new house to live in and probably put my life at Tina behind me. It's the only way to make a valid distinction between this year and the next, and it's important for me that they feel like different experiences so that I don't get bored :)

Anyway, here's to making the most of what little time you have left! Viva Granada!!

A random anecdote from today:
I was eating lunch on a bench near my bus stop today, sitting in the shade, when a well-dressed Spanish man of about 50 years old or so walked up to me and hovered close to my face, staring quizically into my sunglasses. I had my earphones in and probably shouted bit, "Desculpa? Perdon? Puedo ayudarte??" He said something that I couldn't hear, so I took out my headphones and stared back at him with this confused look on my face.

"Eres Espanola?" he asked me. Then, "Are you Spanish?" (in English this time). I kept talking in Spanish and told him no, I'm not. Yes, I speak English as well as Spanish. "Do you work here?" he asked in very good English.

"In Granada? Uh...no, I study. I'm a student," I lied. (I thought he might be some kind of policeman or immigration officer in disguise...sounds stupid, I know, but this sort of thing has never happened to me, so I panicked.)

"Do you want to work?" he asked.

"Uhm...no, I, uh...what? I'm finishing my exams right now then I'm leaving Granada in two weeks. I don't have time to work!" My mouth was wide open in disbelief.

"Oh, well if you want to work, let me know," he says and walks away, sliding his hands gently into his pockets and sortof confidently stepping around my crossed ankles. The guy didn't say his name ONCE or give me any kind of business card. It's like he thinks he's someone famous and I'll know where to find him if I 'want work'!

The funny thing that occurred to me afterwards was that I don't really know what made him approach me in the first place. Was it because I was eating my lunch quickly on a park bench instead of sitting lazily at a cafe for an hour and a half like most Spanish people? And just what kind of work was he talking about?? Obviously, it must be English related, but how the hell do I know? And if it is English related - how did he just look at me and know I was an English speaker?? Super weird, yo.

Spring to Summer

2009-06-05T00:33:00.000-07:00

As usual, I'm long overdue on a little blog maintenance, so this will be my obligatory update on the past two months or so (how long HAS it been? I don't even know...)....

Things in my TEFL world are finally falling into place. Somehow, I've managed to figure out this whole teaching thing and get through each week this Spring like coasting on the nice warm breeze blowing down from the Sierra Nevadas. I don't really have to plan much more than making a mental note of what I want to teach each day and then teaching it - no more endless hours of stress-ridden sleep before an arduous day of lessons; no more worrying that I'm doing my students a disservice by being unprepared. I've realized somehow that all the planning I need is in my head - that's where the good stuff is, and I'm equipped to answer any question a student may throw at me, regardless of how many internet sites I've looked at to get ideas or how many coursebooks I've reviewed and copied to piece together a lesson plan. I think this is normal for TEFL teachers in their first year, because most of the seasoned teachers I've met seem to be nothing more than slacker vagabonds who chose this profession because it's an easy way to make a buck by milking the fact that you're a native English speaker and English happens to be in high demand right now. When I thought of these teachers before, there seemed to be a huge difference between them and me - obviously, they must care much less than I do about their students if they're not stressed and running around trying to make their lessons the best they can be. Somewhere inside my head, the perfectionist in me is always thinking there must be something wrong here if I'm not freaking out about improving my teaching skills every day. But now I realize it's just a matter of experience and the confidence that comes with it. Quite a revelation.

In other news, my whole summer "plan" has been uprooted by a life-changing decision not to move back to the States for quite some time (we're talking years). This came from an opportunity here in Spain that I couldn't pass up, but also from the sense of jadedness and exasperation that I have at present with everything American. Now that I've seen my country from "the other side," had an objective viewpoint on the effects our country has had on the rest of the world...well, let's just say it's intensified the sense of guilt and shame I have as an American abroad. I'm so thankful that most people here think I look Spanish (and my Spanish usually has them fooled too!)

A small side-note on that: I was teaching at Lux Mundi on Wednesday, and we have a new schedule that we were test-running that day, so I ended up with some students that are normally in another teacher's class. This one kid, named Kike,"(pronounced "kee-kay"), who's quite the cool kid in class, overhears me speaking Spanish to some of my 3- and 4-yr old students. And after that, he was constantly in my face trying to get me to speak Spanish in class. He tells me that he wants me to speak Spanish "porque eres nativa" (because you're native)! HahahaHA! (uh, I mean JajajaJA) Then he keeps asking me where I'm from, what's my name (he forgot), etc...and from that point on I only spoke in English. [note: You may think I chose to speak only in English because that's what an effective English teacher should do in that situation, but honestly I didn't want to speak Spanish anymore because I was afraid he'd find me out! Sortof a "quit while you're ahead" strategy.] I love it when people mistake me for Spanish, especially when it's because of my language/accent and not my appearance...it happens almost every day, but it tickles me every time. It's even better when at first they think I'm Spanish and talk to me as such, then once I make a grammar mistake, they give me this confused look like I've not just made a grammar mistake but said some new Spanish expression they're not familiar with yet! I can see the wheels turning in their heads, trying to figure me out, and I absolutely love it :) It further reinforces the feeling that Spain was my destiny - like somehow I was always meant to be here.

Anyway, in case you weren't privy, I'll be here in Spain for a while longer (no complaints here!). I've cancelled my trip home due to logistics and money-saving strategies, which means now I've got a whole summer abroad to play with. The first half will be spent in southern France (Toulouse, to be exact), staying with a friend I met here in Granada recently who lives there. I'm sure I'll have lots of interesting stories from that venture, considering when I try to speak the miniscule French that I know, I always panic and instinctively revert to Spanish. I bet the French people will find that quite interesting :) After France, it's off to Riomundo (Spain) for another summer of teaching at English camp. Camp should be better on all fronts this summer, except of course the FOOD one - I'm planning to bring a full stock of whole grains and produce with me to spare me from the sugar-salt-yet-no-flavor diet provided by the camp (the only thing I can really say about the food there is at least it's free!). Then, after camp I'll have two weeks of vacation before returning to Granada to a new academic year - this time, full-time with block schedules!! (This means fewer one-to-ones, but no more running around town all day wasting precious hours for which I'm not paid. Yay!!)

In short, the Spring has been swell, and I'm looking forward to summer :) Should be good, folks.

This time...and that other time...oh, yeah, and then there was....

2009-03-28T04:11:00.000-07:00

My friend M*, an American girl who is now dating a very, very Spanish man, told me a few weeks ago she got into an argument with her man because he stood her up at the last minute. He'd suggested a few days before that he pick her up in his car one evening after work. Well, he decided to change his mind and not pick her up - which meant she then had to walk all the way home late at night, carrying the several heavy bags of groceries which she'd bought earlier because, of course, she'd thought she'd have a ride home and wouldn't have to carry them. Amidst what I'm sure were very reprimanding comments from M* when they were later arguing, the Spanish b/f dropped this little gem as explanation: "When I say I'm going to do something, it's just an idea - not a commitment or anything."

It's neverending here, the list of times that I've been stood up or had to change my plans because someone else bailed on me (if not a whole group of people). And it aggravates the crap out of me every time, no matter how used to it I am after living here for over a year.

Thing is, I just don't understand it. I mean, I can totally get why it's okay to be a few minutes late here - maybe it's the lackadaisacal way many New Orleanians live seemingly without schedules (always running late, always apologizing to others, and in return always telling others it's okay when it happens to you, etc.). I actually embrace this aspect of Spanish culture - the fact that if I get there a bit early, great! But if I'm running a few minutes late, who cares? Nobody's counting minutes here.

But...to me, being relaxed about tardiness is so different than the "commitment" issue in Spain. I understand that making a commitment, saying you're going to do something, is a bit of an obligation and you should have every right to do it when you damned well please - if you're a few minutes late or have a slight change of plans at the last minute, I'm cool with that. Shit happens, you know? But, the difference for me comes when (and this happens like clockwork, friends, EVERY time...), always at the last minute, people who have said they'd do things with me, who seemed nothing short of thrilled to do these things, not only change plans but CANCEL them altogether, citing a regular handbag of excuses that I'm all too familiar with by now.

And I just don't get it! This is honestly the most perplexing thing I've discovered about Spanish life and culture, and it is simply beyond me.

And I honestly try hard to figure it out - here's a little example of what goes on in my head, with regard to cultural differences: Hm, maybe it's rooted in the language? Maybe the word "plan" in English is different than the word...wait, wait, Spanish has the word "plan" too. Okay, so maybe the definition is different? Do the Spanish have the metaphor "time is money" built into their language? - can you spend time, in Spanish? I think you can, at least my students never make a funny face or tell me I'm wrong when I say "gastar tiempo" - but then that can mean to spend time, or to waste time. Hm.... ok so if it's not in the language, it's definitely in the social attitude as filtered through the language - what the words plan, commitment, idea, date, meeting mean to the Spanish is very different from what they mean to Americans. Ok, ok, so maybe I can understand a bit - it's just a cultural difference, right? But wait! No way, because with every single other cultural difference, I can relate to the Spanish perspective. But this one, I absolutely can not see why this is a preferable way to handle the making of arrangements with other people. It's so selfish! And that's perhaps what's confusing me the most - I can almost ALWAYS understand decisions made out of selfishness. I get it, you know? You gotta "Look out for number 1?" But...oh I'll stop my ranting now.

If anyone's got an anecdote to throw at me, or something to offer a bit of clarity, I'd greatly appreciate it :)

Not for Naught

2009-03-27T12:42:00.000-07:00

I've always loved that expression. Let's bring that one back, ok?

This week has been amazing, and it's assured me that, indeed, life comes in cycles. Especially life in Granada, where the every whim of the local peoples seems to be entirely dependent on the weather. Now that the sunshine of Spring has arrived, now that everyone can walk around without their heavy coats and boots, people seem physically and metaphysically lighter. (As I consider this, I am simultaneously wondering if perhaps it's just me that's feeling this way, and whether I'm projecting this onto everyone else??)

Whatever the real case may be, the energy here now, so reminiscent of this time last year here in Granada, is truly inspiring me. With my lightened work load, I've been able to go out and meet new people, hang out with some not-so-new people, and take it easy once in a while during my week. It's exactly what I needed.

In other news, I've gotten some really great reports from students this trimester - FOUR are increasing their hours, they're so pleased with my classes! This really makes me feel good. And it's so much more encouraging than seeing dollar signs add up as your validation for work; I don't care that this means I'm getting more money each month. To know my students are willing to pay their hard-earned money just to have an extra hour of MY instruction. Well...that's humbling. Sigh.... It's taking me back to my days at the Writing Center. I feel good about what I do now, like no matter what challenges I may face as a teacher, I'm good at this - and one day, I will be damned good. That's all I could ever really ask for - just to have others appreciate what I do, to affect people's lives personally, and to know that I may not be the best at what I do, but by god, I'm pretty close.

Anyway, it's Springtime and I'm a teacher. My job defines me, and I define my job. How awesome is that??

Crowds for Crowds' Sake

2009-03-21T11:01:00.000-07:00

In case anyone was curious about whether the Spanish are every bit as enthusiastic as the rest of humanity is about gettin' plain ol' drunk, well...the Fiesta de Primavera (this weekend - basically just a general term for the coming of Spring, not like an organized party or anything) is a prime demonstration of the Spanish lust for the sauce.

Last night there was a huge Botellon, and I kept hearing people mention it all day like it was this big, exciting event not to be missed. When I'd ask someone where it was going to be, they all replied, "El Hipercor." ("Huh??!" I thought - "Why would a big fiesta take place at a supermarket?") Well...it seems a botellon is just a massive crowd of people getting drunk in a parking lot. And I mean MASSIVE. I didn't go, myself, but every single person I talked to yesterday was going - all 15 students from my Business English class, my 2 students preparing for the FCE, and even my 14-yr old student who was going there directly after her private class which ended at 7:45pm.

Obviously, my younger students were not going to the botellon to drink alcohol, just to be with their friends and hang out. So maybe it's not about the alcohol. Spanish people just really effing love to crowd up a place, man.

So, that's one example. Then, there's the Dragon Festival (pronounced with an accent over the O). This, also, was something I kept hearing about all week: "Vas a la Dragon?" Before I ever had a chance to answer someone when they asked me this, a huge group of people would all start speaking excitedly at once, in a mixture of several different languages, and I never even got to find out what the hell it was. When yesterday I finally asked a Spanish girl (A*) living in our house, "What IS the Dragon Festival?" she laughed and said, "Un festival normal." Effing Spanish - so direct! It's like when you ask someone at a restaurant, "What kind of cheese comes with this cheese plate?" - the response to this is always, "Queso normal" followed by a confused look as if you are either an alien or an idiot for asking. So, needless to say, I had to probe A* for more information about the Dragon. What I found out is that it's just another massive group of people, this time not in a parking lot but way the hell out of town, getting drunk and imbibing in illegal substances, sometimes listening to or playing live music. For two straight days.

"No, thanks," I say. I don't know if I'm just too old for this stuff anymore, if I've finally embraced the fact that I prefer to either be around a crowd of people I semi-know or else NOT around a crowd at all, or what. Or maybe it's just that I don't have any friends here that I'm completely comfortable and happy to be around. Whatever it is, it's seriously harshing my social life. I've gotta get on the crowd bandwagon sooner or later, dammit.

the Good Stuff

2009-03-21T10:51:00.000-07:00

Woke up early today to a casa tranquila, made myself a nice breakfast and a stout coffee, toked a bit, then took a cat nap in the sunshine. After that, I did yoga in the newly opened salon upstairs in the house, sat in the sun again, took a shower, and then went out for a daytime tapas crawl with two lovely ladies from the house, during which I enjoyed a double-scoop ice cream cone of menta y tiramisu flavors (my only actual goal for today was buying an ice cream).

It's 7pm, my day's not half over yet, and already it's been rock solid. Bring it on, sunny springtime. Bring it ON.

A long, unexpectedly blessed day...

2009-03-15T09:26:00.001-07:00

The word "blessed" has this strange gospel-Christian connotation to it for me (as in, "Leave a message, and have a blessed day!" as said by turbo-Christians on their voicemails, which always gives me a bit of the creeps), but I really can't think of any other word to describe yesterday. Just to be clear, however - the day was blessed by fortune, not by baby Jesus or his father, or any such diety. If anything, it was blessed by the sun and by some really, really nice people.

I got home on Friday 100% depleted - my work week was HELL, and my Friday work kept me out of the house all day from 8:30am til 9pm, and just before my last class at IML, I started to have an allergic reaction at the school after "hoofing it" from one class to the next in the pollen-infested Spring air. I'd taken an antihistimine earlier that day, but it obviously wore off around 5:00pm. Unfortunately, I didn't have any more allergy meds on me except for my epi-pen, and if I'd decided to cancel class and try to make it home before it got too serious, I'd have to either walk pretty far to the nearest bus stop or climb up the monstrous hill to my house; luckily, I had about 45 minutes before my student arrived, so amidst near panic, I decided to try to relax and push through it. I sat completely still in the classroom the entire time, with my head down, unable to breath, face and body writhing in itchiness and completely red, eyes itchy and watery, etc etc...just trying to pretend like all was ok and not panic. Thankfully, this worked, and once my student showed up to distract me from freaking out, the symptoms started to subside. The one great thing in all of that is that I made it through without any antihistimines! Now I know that if I can just calm down in a place that's relatively well insulated and allergy-free, I can slow the reaction and avoid DEATH. Good to know.

Anyway, I got home after all of that and discovered that Daniel and Pils (from Denmark, who have a van) still wanted to go to the beach, as well as Simone (from Beliz). All was not lost! I went to bed early and happy.

On Saturday, I was perhaps a bit too anxious. I woke up at 7am and showered and packed everything I would need for 2 days and a night of camping on the beach. Once everyone else woke up, we not only decided to just come back the same day but also to change the location - instead of Nerja, we'd go to the closer Salobrena because some friends of Daniel and Pils' were going there also. I was fine with this - as long as I had a ride and some company, and as long as I'd get some time in the sun and sand, I was ecstatic.

We made the journey to Salobrena relatively quickly, bought some food and beer, and by 1pm we were sitting on the beach in style. Salobrena turned out to be lackluster - as I'd heard from multiple people I've known who go there often, but it's closer than Nerja and for a simple day trip, it made more sense. After a few hours and an amazing lunch on the beach, we decided to head to Lajaron in the Alpujarras - that's the city where they get the water from; the snow melts from up in the mountains and falls down into natural pools, where they collect it, bottle it, and ship it out all over Spain. We found a beautiful vista with a nearby bar, drank tinto de veranos and watched the sunset. By the time we got home, it was prime tapas time, so I headed out with Daniel and Pils for a few drinks and some patatas asadas at a nearby bar. We got full really quickly and decided to head back to the house around midnight.

All-in-all, a very good day. I had time outside of Granada - two places that I'd never been to but heard a lot about, and there were lots of new people to chat with and get to know. And I still had all of Sunday to get ready for the coming week.

I am content. Time for yoga.

Lows and Woes

2009-03-12T14:53:00.000-07:00

M* said something to me today, amidst discussions of the upcoming trip to the beach for my birthday (which was Tuesday), that made me think: I was talking about how I'm always disappointed on my birthday, when I make plans with friends to do something, and everyone seems super excited and into it, and then come the day of, they all bail. When I mentioned this, M* said, "Classic middle child syndrome."

So I'm wondering, now, whether this is all in my mind, or whether there's something more to it. Since the birthday has come and gone, and since I'm just about to reach the summit of my ridiculously busy schedule (the module will be ending soon, which means 15 more hours of "free time" each week), I've been thinking about myself, how I live my life, the people I choose to include in my life and the people I perpetually keep at a distance.

I've realized how long it takes me to make a connection with people - a really long-lasting connection, more than just a random "Hey, me too!" moment once in a while. The thing about my current situation is, I've been really busy lately - the past two months my workload has doubled, and when faced with the option of partying with the people who live in the house and have way fewer obligations than I do (and then feeling like shit the next day at work), I generally prefer to stay home, watch a movie on the internet, and wake up semi-ready for my long day of work. This has resulted in fewer and fewer people I can genuinely relate to, as the people in the house are constantly changing and it takes time and opportunity to get to know the new people who come in. Although I was aware of this when my busy days began, I opted to put my nose to the grindstone, save some money on the nights I wouldn't be going out and partying, and sacrifice the potential friends I might make. The only time I've had available to socialize is on the weekends, when the people who've already made bonds have their own plans and don't even think to include me, because I always say "no." I had to explain the saying, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" to one of my students the other day, and it was one of those strange, dejavu-y moments where I felt like the universe was talking to me.

So, that's one part of the problem. But it's making me think about deeper problems, and I now realize how the insecurity I always suffered from when I was young still plays a big part in my social interactions. I think I hold people at a distance because I'm afraid they'll judge me, afraid they'll see the American in me creeping out no matter how much I try to conceal it, afraid of...well, just afraid really. So, of course I love my work and love to be good at what I do, no matter what I do but especially now that I do something I love. But that's no excuse to avoid making friends, to put on this confident, "I don't need you" exterior and always do my own thing. Because in the end, doing my own thing means doing it alone. And I'm starting to realize how much that sucks.

So anyway, what's happening with the beach trip is this: I started planning this thing 3 weeks ago. I mentioned it to several people, and they were all excited and even talking about plans for food and alcohol, camping and activities we could do while there at the beach. I researched bus prices and schedules, looked up hostal locations and prices in case it rains, and put up signs all over the common areas of the house to remind everybody. And now that I've seen the weather report (perfect) and there's the possibility of riding in a van instead of the bus (read: FREE), the anticipation of this trip has been the one thing that's gotten me through my hellacious week - I keep telling myself, "Just get through this, and on Saturday, you'll be sitting in the sand, soaking up the sun, without a worry in the world." On my actual birthday, even, at least 4 people flaked out on the casual tapas/drink meeting I'd planned, and I ended up having a relatively lackluster "celebratory drink" with a few friends that I barely know, but I told myself it was okay because we would celebrate my birthday this weekend. And of course, now, 2 days before the trip, I come home and ask a few people if they're still coming, and every single one says they've got something else, some reason that they can't go. One even told me there was talk in the house of, instead of going to the beach, having a house party for two members who are moving out this weekend to a house down the hill. That, honestly, was the last straw - the fact that I've been planning this for 3 weeks, and someone only has to mention another idea for everyone who parties together routinely to jump ship.

And no matter how much I tell myself it's not a big deal, jesus CHRIST am I disappointed, and angry, and depressed, and let down, and upset with myself. Because somewhere inside my head, I feel like it's my own fault for not letting people in, not telling people how much they mean to me on a daily basis, how much it means to me just to have ONE day, one fucking day where people come to not only support me but just to be in the same vacinity as me and enjoy themselves. I don't feel like that's a lot to ask. But I can't be angry with everyone else - all the reasons they've got are valid, of course (money problems, obligations, moving weekend, etc.), but I am angry and I'm just too self aware to try and pretend I'm angry with them. I'm angry with myself. Which makes it all the more disappointing.

Anyway, all truly isn't lost. The guy who owns the van, and his girlfriend, as far as I know are still in. And M* has told me she'll do whatever she can to make it, even if it's just for the day and we don't stay and camp overnight. Even if we have to take the bus. It's just not what I imagined it would be - I had hoped, at best, for 5 or so people from the house to come along. I had hoped to make a barbecue on the beach, camp out in our sleeping bags under the stars, welcome the coming Spring in style. And to finally have time to talk to the people I live with, to connect with them in a way that I never have time or occasion to do because I work so damned much.

Anyway, this is me. Wallowing in birthday self-pity. Waah, waaaah, waaaaaaaaah.

Grrrr....

2009-02-26T11:23:00.000-08:00

I HATE CARS. AND PEOPLE WHO DRIVE CARS. ANGERRRRRRRRR.

Here's a synopsis of my thoughts this afternoon while walking to work today:

'Hmmm, the bus dropped me off with 15 minutes to walk to Rafa's house [Rafa is my student]. Great, I can take my time [the walk takes 10 minutes, more or less]. Wow, I've had this song by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs on my mp3 player for months now, and I'm just now listening to it? Stupid! This song's fucking great! If I were a stripper, this would be my SONG, man. OMG, I'm walking in the outskirts of Granada in only two layers and I don't even need my scarf. Amazing. Look, the weather's so nice, the group of little old men who I used to always see sitting on the bench at the park have returned - and they have a dog with them! Great. That means summer's on its way. I wonder what the old men talk about, all huddled together in their little golfer hats and sweater vests? Hmm, which crossing should I use to get across the motorway? There are about 8 along my way...at the first one on the corner, you have to wait for a green light, which takes like 4 minutes, but then I'd have to run to make it to class on time. I'll keep walking and try one of the other 7 crossings - after all, they've all got BIG BLUE SIGNS which mean that it's MANDATORY for cars to stop and let you cross, so there's no waiting at those...yes, that's what I'll do. Yes.'

Then as I approach one of the PEDESTRIAN HAS THE RIGHT OF WAY crossings, of course I pause and don't just walk into oncoming traffic. There are about 30 cars headed down the motorway, and I lock eyes with the drivers of the first car in each lane approaching the crossing, as I always do for my own safety, to make sure they see me, which today they definitely did - just in time for them to FLY past at warp speed, followed by the other 28 cars, following suit. If I'd stuck my arm out at a 90 degree angle from my body, I'd be an amputee right now.

I generally refrain from flipping the bird EVER, whether it be at home in the States or anywhere, let alone in Spain where I like to be as courteous as possible. I'm rarely brought to such justifiable rage against others that a ridiculous gesture like this seems necessary. But today, oh sweet jesus christ, did I want to pull each of those drivers from their LAZY POLLUTING ASS MOTHERFUCKER automobiles and SMACK them in the face over and over with not ONE but BOTH of my middle fingers.

And THEN, OMG. It happened again, on the way home. TWICE. It seems if one person has a rod up his asshole and just can't be bothered to stop for pedestrians, everyone behind him thinks they shouldn't either. What is UP with that?!? The more I think about it, the more I think every privately owned automobile in the world should be fucking bombed as an environmental and social courtesy. I could blame the drivers, sure, say, "Oh, it's not every driver, just the assholes, and you can't do anything about them...they're everywhere. That's life." But the fact of the matter is EVERYONE has moments like this, where they're just too wrapped up in their own bullshit to realize they're not the only human being on the planet. And as much as we may deny it, everyone's had a moment where they've ignored the poor chicken just trying to cross the damned road. BUT...if we REMOVE the cars, if we REMOVE the road, if EVERYONE is that chicken...perhaps I'd get a bit more empathy, goddammit.

If you read this, please stop for pedestrians, even when you're not required to do so. We ALWAYS notice and appreciate it. Also, just a suggestion: leave your stupid-ass car in the driveway one day and walk to work, or (Gasp!) use public transportation to get there. What a thought?! Amazing!!

Sheesh, I'm angry.

Viva

2009-02-07T07:15:00.000-08:00

I think often of this word, of its contextual meaning in conversation, and then also of its underlying root meaning, life. Somehow, this word encapsulates every feeling I have while living in this beautiful, raw country when I'm disciplined enough to fully engage all of my senses. The smells, the images, the sounds, the tastes, and the physical presence of Spain - these are naturally the things most tangible to me here, and each time I am able to focus my attention on one of these specifically, my mind sighs in reverence and utters a simple, undeniable "Viva."

Throughout all the expected ups and downs of living abroad in a country and culture that is foreign, each day of it seems to bring me closer to myself. I grow more confident in who I was before I came here, who I am now, and who I want to be as life takes me on its twists and turns. I have come to believe that this is a natural effect of travel, one I can't imagine myself living without.

What's interesting about this, what I've realized today in fact, is how these mental changes are manifesting themselves physically, on my body and in my face. Yesterday, while shopping in the city center of Granada due to a cancelled class and some unexpected time on my hands, I half-heartedly decided to try on a pair of jeans in a size 8. Once inside the dressing room, I hung the jeans on the wall and glanced in the mirror, giving myself a quick, "Here goes nothing!" half-smile, and then stared for a few moments at the "skinny" style jeans I had chosen to try to squeeze into. I imagined myself in them ideally, how they might look and feel against my curvy frame, hugging all the right parts of me and comfortably clinging to the rest, making me look undeniably chique like all the near-model-beautiful, stylish women of Spain. I realized in that moment how, no matter how much I try to deny it, I desperately want to fit in here - to look Spanish, to have the natural, easy elegance that so many Spanish women emit, to look stunningly casual and modern in a pair of simple, faded blue jeans. (This, perhaps, would explain my sheer joy whenever someone tells me that I look Spanish.) Immediately following these wishful musings, the more typical image of myself came into view: stepping into the jeans, pulling them half-way up to my chunky thighs and realizing that, of course, they weren't going any further up, lest I need someone to come in and surgically remove them from me. Despite the disappointment of this possibility, I laughed to myself and pulled the jeans from the hanger and stepped into them cautiously, one-leg-at-a-time.

"Like a glove" is the only expression, however trite, that comes to mind to describe the private little miracle that occurred in that tiny dressing room. I'm surprised I didn't shout in triumph or call the attendant over to verify my unexpected results. After nearly 10 years of floating from a size 8, then on through to sizes 10, 11, 12, and 13, I find myself today sitting in a pair of size 8 jeans for the very first time since HIGH SCHOOL. The feeling is of course victorious and triumphant, but most of all I am struck by a sense of wonderment.

I don't know how I've done it. Here in Spain, I have a debatably "healthy" breakfast every day of one scrambled egg, two slices of buttered toast, and a strong coffee with milk and (real) sugar, and I eat pasta nearly every night. If I want ice cream, I don't worry about seeing my thighs and stomach turn to creamy, gelatinous folds of skin - I eat ice cream. If my bake-all-day-long housemate offers me a slice of her fresh-from-the-oven pie or chocolate pastry, I sit down and savor it and wash it down with a tall glass of whole milk. After a long week of teaching, if my body is screaming for a bottle of wine and some oil-soaked tapas, I go for it. I can honestly say that I've never been so NON-conscious of the foods I put into my body, since living in Spain.

The only practical explanation that comes to mind is, of course, exercise - or what I prefer to call physical activity, since the word "excercise" to me has become so unpleasanty connotated in the recent years of diet-obsession. I don't own a car, a fact that I am proud of. I have a relatively busy schedule that keeps me sitting down for an hour or two at a time but then promptly up on my feet again to "book it" to the next class, which usually involves no more than a 15-minute, steady-paced walk, albeit sometimes slightly uphill. I live in the old Moorish Quarter of Granada, notorious for its steep, rocky hills which, when I first arrived here, climbing even at a snail's pace made me feel I might go into cardiac arrest. Now, I take these hills in easy stride every evening upon returning home. I do take the bus quite often, when it's necessary to save time and economically practical, but other than that, I'm on foot wherever I go. This is a part of the Spanish way of life - Spaniards love to be out together, walking around in packs and laughing, window-shopping and sharing the ins and outs of their daily lives with one another.

In this way, I think my gradual weight-loss can only be explained by my becoming more and more Spanish as I live here: not so much in the things I eat, but in the way I eat - not caring about what it will do to my figure but what it will do to my spirits, to my enjoyment of life; and not so much in how much time it takes me to get from point A to point B, but what I do in that time, outside of just getting somewhere as soon as possible. When I walk to someplace I need to get to, I have time to listen to my favorite music, to use it as a soundtrack to the images and people I see on my way, to see the world differenty and myself in it - to muse. These are aspects of the Spanish culture that I want to always keep with me as I go where life takes me - these, and my size-8 waistband! Viva!!!

I should be a Creative Writing teacher...

2009-01-29T15:30:00.000-08:00

apparently. At least that's what my students told me tonight.

I gave a lesson tonight on short story writing to my FCE (First Cambridge Exam) students, who were unthrilled (did I just invent that?...anti-thrilled? non-thrilled? hm...I don't think any of these exist...my English is truly going to shit as my Spanish improves) to say the least. This class is at 8:30pm every Thursday, and it's hard enough to get a coherent thought in English out of my students at that time, let alone a good writing sample for FCE preparation. I thought that by choosing the short story category (which is a possible topic for the FCE), I'd tap into some of their interests and get them more excited about it. Yeah, uhm...not so much. One student dawdled through the whole class and didn't even decide what he was going to write about, let alone finish.

At any rate, after the obligatory grunts and groans once they realized we'd be writing tonight, we looked at two examples of short stories written for the FCE and compared them, talking about what makes a good short story. They were kindof deer-in-headlights until I asked them to think about their favorite authors and books. I asked them to think about why they like to read them. What is it about these authors or books that's so great? Somehow, inadvertently, this clicked for them - probably because it related what we were doing in class to their personal interests. They were throwing ideas at me left and right, and I couldn't write on the white board fast enough. I then turned the conversation to the art of "copying;" I told the students that good writers learn to be good by "copying" their favorite writers. The students started thinking critically about what their favorite authors do that they find so interesting or enjoyable to read - realistic plots, interesting characters, thrilling twists and turns, unusual problems, vivid images, descriptive language...etc etc. I got the students to do pair work while generating ideas for their stories, giving one another guidance as to what their favorite authors would suggest. It worked like magic!

I came up with all of this completely off-the-cuff - my original intention was just to "milk" this one writing assignment into a full lesson, and lo and behold, my passion for creative writing came out, inspiring the students more than I thought possible - and completely unbeknownced to me! It's wonderful when these 'zen' moments happen. Tonight, when the student told me I should teach Creative Writing, I had a realization in the moment and was able to fully appreciate it while it was happening, and not just after the fact.

Anyway, not that I'm actually thinking of teaching Creative Writing, but it's nice to know that I don't actually have to be good at Creative Writing in order to teach it. It's like the whole "I'm not a writer but I know good writing when I see it" argument. Except that I do in fact write...just not short stories. But anyway anyway....

My job is inspiring. I want to scream it from the rooftops :)

Teaching Lessons

2009-01-25T12:02:00.000-08:00

It occurs to me now that I’ve never really talked about my student, “J” (full names are withheld to protect the innocent). But that’s really strange, because J is a really remarkable student. Firstly, J’s level of English is outstanding, probably the closest to fluency that I’ve ever found in a non-native English student. Secondly, the classes that we have together are anything but conventional - this could possibly be due to J’s level of English, which makes our one-to-one lessons together more like those I would have with native speakers, but I attribute most of this to J himself.

To tell you a bit about him, J is a fifteen-year old Granadino, born to relatively wealthy parents (both are doctors) who recently divorced, leaving J and his younger brother (also my student) to live with their father (interesting - that they live with their father). J and his brother are not typical Spaniards - they are well educated, as anyone would expect from privileged children, but instead of accepting what they have been born into with ambivalence, they genuinely appreciate what they have and seem to seize every opportunity to better themselves. One lesson I had with J a few months ago touched on the “nature versus nurture” argument, and as we discussed it, J told me a bit about his upbringing as he attempted to categorize his parents into the “nurturing” or “motivating” categories. [FYI: “nurturing” in this sense meant a parent who supports his/her child no matter what the child chooses to do, while “motivating” meant a parent who is supportive but continuously encouraging a child to try and to excel at as many different things as possible.] J told me that he luckily has one parent of each type - his mother is nurturing, while his father is motivating. As for what results this has yielded in J, he is a self-motivated, outgoing young man who is very interested in philosophy, politics and debate/classical argument, world issues, history, language, sports, music, and videogames (he is fifteen, after all!).

Anyway, J shines above almost all of my other students. He presents me with new challenges as a teacher to come up with lessons that he will find engaging, and once in a while he even catches me off-guard with the questions he asks. This is of course normal with bright students, but I guess I expect it more from native speakers than from TEFL students, which is why it surprises the crap out of me every time. J also has a knack for getting off-topic by engaging me in deep conversations about oh so many random things that, coincidentally, are very interesting topics that I could talk about for hours on end - I think J probably knows this and would rather sit and ‘chat’ for an hour and a half each week than do crummy grammar exercises that he could do in his sleep. Understandable, but still sneaky!

It’s one of these conversations that has me thinking about J tonight, as I just got back from class with him a few hours ago. We were talking about a lot of different things, but what interests me most about my talks with him is how much I learn from him. He tells me about European history, in particular that of Spain; he tells me about Plato and Descartes; and he told me tonight about sexism in the Spanish language and how difficult it is to change people’s minds on the subject, even those of the women who are most affected by it - most Spaniards hold the language as sacred and a part of tradition, like this magical thing that should never be changed or updated. He tells me how “behind the times” Spain is, how they get media (music and movies) months - sometimes years! - after the USA. He tells me how people in Spain tell him he could never be politically “left,” because he doesn’t believe in tradition (to which he vehemently stamps his foot and insists that he certainly believes in tradition, but not to the exclusion of questioning certain aspects of the traditions so that they reflect new understanding and enlightenment). After all, the traditions that we carry on through our lives are a reflection of not only who we were as a society and where we come from, but of who we are now and the image and history of ourselves that we want to portray for the future. J finds bull-fighting horrible, and he equated it tonight with the Roman tradition of putting slave men for the slaughter into a ring with tigers for the entertainment of the upper classes.

We don’t just talk about Spain, though. For every gem that J gives me about Spanish life and culture, I give him one about the English language, sometimes about the differences between American and British varieties and where they stem from - which of course must include some treatment of the respective histories, cultures, and ideologies there. We talked tonight about sexism in English, such as the current feminist arguments against the use of “woman” because it includes or is derived from “man,” and I think it surprised J to consider this for the first time. After he pondered this, he talked about how Spanish doesn’t have a neuter gender - for example, for certain professions which didn’t always include women but now do, the women who now do these jobs must still be referred to by a masculine noun.

Not to get too carried away in recounting all the details of my “lesson” with J tonight, but I just have to say what pure joy it is to have a student like him. It takes me back to my days of tutoring at UNT where I got to go to my Linguistics classes and learn these amazing new things about language and culture, and then just sit down with a student and use that information to help them in their pursuit of the ever-elusive “English.” I personally believe I changed lives in those days with what I taught students - hell, simply explaining the difference between descriptive and prescriptive grammar can do that! It’s students like J, though, that remind me why I’m teaching in the first place. I get to learn just as much as I teach; I get to feel like what I have to share with other people is actually going to change the way they think and live their lives. And it’s with these rare students with whom you have a connection that you genuinely feel like it’s not just the fact that you’re the teacher and they’re the student - you are you, and how you say the things you say to your students is only possible because of who you are, not what you do. It’s completely gratifying and self-fulfilling.

I want to make a constant effort to remember this, to be thankful for every lesson I get with students like J, and to use each one to its fullest potential - for both myself and my students.

Ups and downs...mostly downs

2009-01-19T16:51:00.000-08:00

I generally try to refrain from being too negative in my blogs, but I just don't have it in me to be positive today. I've been sick since Saturday, and I ignored the impending doom and decided to stay out late drinking that night, which is always a bad idea. Then, I had an allergic reaction to some falafel from my favorite schwarma shop (which always includes a large amount of wheezing and coughing), and now it's like I've got full-on emphysema, complete with fever and chills.

Anyway, it's just like sickness to bring you to a dark place, make you consider things in a different light and examine your life a different way. An update since my last post: the b/f came to visit over New Years and went back to the States on January 7, and then I had to go back to work the following day. We had an amazing time - got to see most of what Granada has to offer, the big sights in Sevilla (and some amazing tapas bars), plus we were able to fit in a museum and a Malasana pub crawl with my favorite friend in Madrid. All in all, good stuff. We had some amazing conversations over good wine and tapas, just got to enjoy being together in its essence. Unfortunately, after he left, I've been a bit reclusive. And I thought I was getting away with it, but people in my house have started to notice. They've been asking me if I'm just really busy with work, and in response I tell them yes, but honestly my work is the same as it's always been. I feel a bit more stressed by it, but that's just because I need to build up the steam I had going last semester, and that's always tough after the holidays.

In all honesty, I've realized how difficult it is for me to connect with other people. And another key to this reclusiveness is really just the fact that since the b/f came, I'm pretty certain that I am not interested in other men. And this is a good thing - it's good to know, to be sure. But then, he's so far away, while the idea of going back to the States at this point is fairly upsetting. But it wasn't always like this, and I think right now it's a matter of my perspective (which, after two days in bed with a deafening cough, is pretty bleak) - during the summer, it seemed like I made these strange and beautiful connections to so many unexpected people. But now, maybe it's the winter, maybe it's that Granada isn't as magical for me anymore and is really a better "summer town," whatever the reason, I'm feeling taxed by the thought of even a casual "chat" with my housemates. And for that, of course I feel guilty. Like I'm purposefully being anti-social, which is so not like me.

In short, I've got to get over this cold and out of the house and back to myself. Pronto.

Venga La Noche Vieja!!!

2008-12-30T11:16:00.000-08:00

New Years (la noche vieja, in Spain) will be here tomorrow! I'm equipped with champagne (cava) and grapes (uvas), but fresh out of resolutions. Except maybe to get on top of my finances, which seem to have gotten quite out of hand since my return to Spain.

In case you weren't aware, there is a tradition in Spain to eat one grape every second during the final countdown to midnight. Apparently, this began as a Catalan tradition, so in Barcelona there are paramedics on hand all through the night for the occasional choking "accident." Still, I'm really excited! They don't have seedless grapes in Spain (imagine!), so we'll have to cut out the seeds and prepare the grapes for quick swallowing as the clock strikes 12:00. Fun, fun, fun!

The b/f is also set to arrive in 4 hours and counting - I barely slept a wink last night, I'm so excited. Apparently, neither did he. That's typical for the first night before a big trip, though. I never sleep before I get on the plane, which is better for me b/c then I'm actually able to sleep during the long flight. I'm sure he'll konk out as soon as he gets here, but I doubt I'll be able to sleep. Maybe I'll just lie there and watch him snooze next to me :)

Anyway, we have planned a grand cena (dinner) at the house, and then we'll move the party up to the Mirador de San Nicolas (minutes away from the house) for midnight. There will be fireworks, champagne, a view of the entire city (including the Alhambra), and we'll also be able to see all the parties going on down in the city below. Perfect. Hopefully, there will be parties going on until dawn - I hope the b/f is prepared for going out Spanish-style!

Planning A Gay Yule Tide

2008-12-20T09:27:00.000-08:00

Deflation. Absolute and utter decompression. That's what Xmas is about for me this year.

After the longest, most difficult week of my life as a TEFL teacher, I got to sing at the annual IML Teacher's Christmas party. The owner arranged for us to play at a really great jazz bar in Realejo, an awesome barrio of Granada. We rehearsed once last Sunday, and we pulled it off quite well for only one 4-hour rehearsal. It was me and Paul (from Canada) on vocals, Paul and Jack on drums/cajon, Jonathan on bass, Hans and Jack on Guitar, and Joe (female) on violin. When I found out we would be playing, I freaked out about it a bit for two weeks, but then all that nervous tension was eased last night with a few glasses of wine. The crowd was warm and inviting, and I had my very own female cheering section there to support me. It felt great to hear my voice through a PA again. I'd forgotten how much I love it, how much I miss just singing with other musicians. I will try to keep this as a more permanent part of my social life here in Granada - clearly, there is no lack of talented musicians here with which to collaborate!

Anyhow, now that last night is over, I feel a bit despondent, but still sortof euphoric too. Most of the household has left for Christmas to visit their families and won't return until after the New Year. There are about 6 or 7 of us left here who will stay and make the yule tide gay - sugar cookies, spice cake, eggnog, cider, and board games. I want to make a ramshackle tree and arrange a gift exchange too, and just lock ourselves in the salon with two or three heaters and hang out until the sun comes up, really see if Santa Clause stops by :)

I hope I don't die of boredom before then.

A long, arduous day...

2008-12-17T13:13:00.000-08:00

Sigh, where to begin???

So, this week has been BUSY to say the least. I woke up this morning, ready for the three classes I had to teach, complete with my very own drawing of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer to accompany the listening activity I'd planned for my 7 & 8 yr-olds. As I walked into school to copy said drawing along with some additional exam materials for another class, who should call but my boss at IML? "I can see you from my window!" he says. (I was just below the school, which is on the 3rd floor, crossing the street as he called.) "Just a sec, I'm coming up there!" I replied. When I got there, he gave me the usual raised-eyebrow, anticipatory stare that he always has when he's about to ask me for a favor. Basically, he asked me to cover for another sick teacher tonight - two classes, just after my final class which ends at 7pm. This means working until 9:30pm and putting off the MOUNTAIN of work that I have to get done tonight. I agreed - hey, I need the money.

Anyway, so fast forward to my class with the 7 & 8 yr-olds, where I get the students into groups and very excited about the listening activity. I suddenly realize, I've misplaced the cd I burned with not one but FIVE different versions of "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer" on it so that they can listen and put the lyrics in order. I ask another teacher to keep an eye on the students as I dash downstairs to dig for the cd, thinking I'd mistakenly put it into the wrong cd case with all my materials which I'd left downstairs. It wasn't there!! So I ran back up to the classroom, dug through my bag, and found it after all. I began to play the song, just as chaos broke out amongst the students. The usual suspects were screeching strange Spanish syllables (how's that for alliteration??) that I couldn't understand let alone speak over. I lost it. I turned off the song, just as the other students were really starting to figure it all out, and forced the students to write sentences instead. This meant they would NOT be rewarded for completing the task and also that I basically hate them. Some of the students complained (the good students), while the ones who routinely cause trouble just went on being bastards. Effing brats. Sometimes I hate teaching.

So then, flash forward to just after that class, where I brought up the topic of my transportation money to my boss as she was driving me back to the city center so I could catch a bus to my next class. I had sent her both an email AND a text message on the subject, saying I had to recharge my bus card this week and that I had the receipt, and could she reimburse me soon. So, I bring it up in the car, and she quickly changes her tone and says she "has to discuss it with Catarine," the other director. Something else about how "we agree to pay for some of your transportation costs...." So I immediately mounted the defensive and brought up the fact that, had I been given a choice (I hadn't) to accept or not accept these classes that are in Granada's B.F.E. region, knowing that transportation wouldn't be completely covered, I'd have been CRAZY to accept them. She said she was upset to hear that I felt that way about the scheduling, and I continued to tell her (most politely, of course) that the scheduling isn't the issue - I love my classes, have no problem with them, etc. - but that scheduling, i.e. WHERE the classes are, is related to transportation, which is the issue at hand. We were both in a rush to get to our next classes, so then as we were getting out of the car, still discussing the matter, she reaches into her purse and thrusts a 10 euro bill at me. I tell her, "Look, I've got the receipt, all I need is 5 euros to cover what I recharged on the card, you don't need to give me 10." And she keeps on insisting, saying, "No, no...I don't want to quibble about 8 euros." And I'm thinking, "Hold up - 8 euros is a lot of money, yo! I can buy breakfast for a WEEK on 8 euros." I took the money, and then I felt guilty (which I think, in retrospect, may have been her intention in just throwing money at me). So then I bought 2 packs of cigarettes with the 5 euros, and put the other 5 on my bus pass. Ha.

So THEN...

Flash forward to my 2 completely unprepared classes where I filled in for another sick teacher. The first one was a piece of cake - FCE students who have already taken the exam, and only 2 of the 12 showed up! So, we talked about Christmas, I presented them with the Rudolph activity which I'd so lovingly prepared and had to forfeit with the intended recipients, and the time flew by. Then, there were 4 students that showed up for the 2nd class - CAE (aka more advanced) students, who were quite suspicious about me from the beginning since I'm not their normal teacher. I did the Rudolph song with them, and they breezed through it on just one listen (typical of CAE students, but you can't blame me for trying). Then, I dished out a worksheet that I handmade a few months ago for another CAE student. This kept them occupied for 10 minutes, wherein I vigorously took notes, frantically trying to come up with ideas to fill the next HOUR of class. Somehow - and I have no earthly explanation for how the hell this came to be - visions of all those immaculate lesson plans on the TEFL course came flooding into my brain. It was automatic - I thought of a great role-play idea for my Production stage, then I thought about possible lead-ins and topics (Christmas shopping and associated problems), and all the Practice stage pieces just fell into place from there. I even started it off with a bogus story about how I recently purchased an ipod for my boyfriend, found out it was broken, then had to get this resolved at the store. This led to a discussion of aggressive, passive, and assertive behavior - in the moment, I remember that there's an entire UNIT in the CAE course book about "assertiveness," and "Hey, Presto!" I had a lesson. The students were interested and engaged, cooperated perfectly with the role-play, and perhaps even had a little fun. And the best part (which I attribute completely to the PPP model) was they didn't even realize they were learning!

I left work feeling euphoric and "in the zone" in a way I've never felt before with teaching. I mean, I've felt it's my calling before, but never so strongly. At this moment, I feel like all the "sink or swim" experience is FINALLY paying off, and I know for sure that I'm a swimmer.

To top off the euphoria, I rode the bus home listening to the playlist I recently uploaded to my mp3 player - songs from our set list on Friday. [Background: I'm singing on Friday at the IML Christmas party with a band comprised of 5 other TEFL teachers, and we sound awesome, if I do say so myself.] I've got blisters on my fingers from practicing the guitar for a solid week, ppl who genuinely think I can sing, and some new tunes to focus my attention on: HAPPINESS.

Oh yeah, did I mention I haven't eaten today, and I've got THREE full exams to prepare, plus report cards to fill out for 20 students, and a 12-hr teaching day tomorrow?? So, the day's not over. And all I can say is, thank god for momentum.

Blank Space

2008-12-09T15:33:00.000-08:00

...is always somehow daunting. It makes me take a deep breath and then my mind goes as blank as the page and I feel the motivation to write this blog draining from my veins.

I hit a groove last week with my lesson planning (exciting, right?! sorry to bore you, but this is my life). I planned everything on Sunday, and on Monday morning, there wasn't that familiar feeling of dread because I have no idea what I'm teaching today. It took a few hours to put it all together, but it was WELL worth it. And then came the three-day weekend as a result of the Dia de la Constitucion (don't ask me what the festival is about - there are far too many to keep track of, I don't ask anymore, just ENJOY the time off), and of course when I went to bed on Monday night, I hadn't planned my entire week like before. I went to work today feeling like a failure as a teacher because I just couldn't be bothered to come up with dynamic lessons for my three students today.

Oh well, I guess things work in cycles. I'll get ahead at some point, I'm sure. I've still got a bit of time before bed tonight to plan for tomorrow!

In good news, I'm possibly going to the UK for Christmas! My friend Alastair, who recently moved out of the house in Granada and went back to England, has invited Marcia and me up to his family's home in Ipswich. A roaring fire, British pudding, walks to neighborhood pubs and playing in the f-f-f-freezing cold weather - sounds like Christmas to me! I'm just thrilled to be going somewhere with a family, where they speak English and are as excited to have me as I am to be there. I'll get to see London for real (more than the airport!), and I'll get to experience British people outside of [British people in Spain]. I've got to figure out a way to do this without spending more than pocket money, but it will certainly be worth it. Woot woot! Pictures will certainly be posted, in the event that this comes through. *We still haven't booked our flight yet, which is why I speak of this as hypothetical, but it's pretty sure that we're going at this point.*

So, Christmas will be sad and strange since I'm not with my family, which is the whole point of Christmas for me. But at least I can be with someone else's family!

On another note, I've rediscovered my Southern roots, in terms of music. I've been downloading a mess of old Opry, gospel, Motown, 60's rock, and blues (Iko Iko, anybody??). This music fills my heart and makes me so homesick that I can't even describe it in words. I've been asked to sing at my school's Christmas party on December 18th, and there are a TON of musicians teaching English at IML (the school), so the pressure is on to chop some wood and get my vocals in shape. I figure if we do some gospel, I can at least surprise people with the tiny little black woman that I know is sometimes lying dormant in my vocal chords.

That's all the updates I've got for now. Life's good - cold (below freezing), but good. Ups and downs, sweets and sours, all that stuff. Plain ol' L-I-V-I-N'.

Thank God for Words

2008-11-22T12:33:00.000-08:00

Today was sortof a wash due to an impromptu hangover, and also incidentally sortof awash with sentiment since I spent a large portion of it re-reading Song of Myself for maybe the 30th time. I'd forgotten how long that poem is, and how wonderful. I'm not even halfway through it, taking my time with each line and relishing in them, and already the familiar wave of humility and grace and wonder is taking me. I know it's a bit rotten to say this, but there are elements of almost every poem I've ever written in Song of Myself. I wonder if maybe I subconsciously internalize my favorite poems and squeeze remnants of them into the things I write. There are hints of Ginsberg in some of my poems too, not surprising since he worshipped Whitman like I do. Anyway, I am in no way at ALL comparing the crappy little lives of my poems to the legends of the Greats, but I'm thankful and wistful today to feel touched and connected by something so much bigger than me, so much bigger than the world - yet completely inseparable from everything.

I just came across this particular stanza and almost felt like crying:

What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me,
Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns,
Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me,
Not asking the sky to come down to my good will,
Scattering it freely forever.

I don't know what I would do without words, without poetry. I wonder if other people in the world are fortunate enough to be as moved by something as I am by simple words. It's like the whole meaning of life for me is enveloped by this overwhelming feeling...sadness and euphoria, longing and resignation, wisdom and curiosity. It's the sweet and the sour, man. The sweet and the sour. I love you, Walt Whitman. Thanks for making me feel human again.

Bad Blog Mommy

2008-11-12T12:18:00.000-08:00

Ok, ok. It goes without saying: I dropped the ball.

I've recently gone the more personal route of sending emails to a few friends and family members back home, so the blog suffered a little hiatus. In fact, I'm so swamped with work at this point that I'm going to borrow from some of these emails in order to update those who didn't receive one. So, my apologies in advance if these snippets seem disjointed at all. I've categorized them according to context, for clarity:

Travelling:
It's funny how you take things for granted without even knowing it. Travelling has taught me a lot about that - appreciating what you have while you have it, because next thing you know, you'll be moving on to a new city with new faces, new things to see every day, new adventures. It's different being here in Granada again because this time I have a job, like the city seems more normal and less exotic because it's sortof "home" now, but I still have these moments of complete euphoria when I realize where I am and just have to let out a big sigh of gratitude that I'm even here at all.

The Recent Election:
Despite most Americans' assumptions, it's actually been quite difficult to be a proud American abroad when everyone you meet hates and/or criticizes your president and government as well as its people for the economic crisis which they're all suffering from. That's tip of the iceberg, but ppl in Europa absolutely LOVE Obama, so their opinions of Americans (and thus of me) may change soon, and I'm happy about that.

Teaching English:
I love vocabulation!! I'm actually teaching English to some babies (3 and 4 years old), and they amaze me every day with the stuff they know. They are full of big-eyed wonder, and the other day (I've told this story to about 100 people now) we were singing "Head and shoulders, knees and toes, knees and tooooooes..." and afterwards, I pointed at each body part and asked the students "What's this?" They repeated, "Head!" and then, "Shoulders," and then, "Kneesand!" Hahahaaaa...they didn't understand there are TWO words in the song (knees & and) and combined them. It was so cute, I burst out laughing and they were so tickled, not knowing why I was laughing, that they laughed right along with me. TOO CUTE.

Future Plans:
As for my return date *big gulp*, my flight is scheduled for June 30, but I'm already anticipating that I will have to push that date forward. English Summer Camp work usually starts July 1st, so I have no idea why I chose June 30th for my return. Working at a camp is GREAT money, for just a little inconvenience and work, and when the school year ends in late May/early June, I will definitely need the income. I might even work for 2 months, if I can. So, there's that. But then, there's also...the fact that my long-term plans may have changed quite dramatically. I know there's a chance my friends and family might be disappointed, but I'm seeing TEFL Teaching abroad as a long-term career now. There are so many more countries that I want to see, and not just to visit but to live in - Japan, Thailand, Colombia, Brazil, Mexico (for starters)...and there's just no rational reason for me to go back to the States and end up in the same place I was when I left for Spain. I mean, I could probably find a TEFL job there, but I feel like I'm finished with New Orleans for now, so I'd be living outside of Louisiana and probably outside of the South anyway...so why not just country-hop for a few years until I feel like I've really taken advantage of the fact that I'm young and not tied down?

I of course have job offers for next year already, and I might consider coming back because the hours and the pay will improve since I've already worked for them. There's just not a chance that any offer in the States could be as seductive - what can I say? I really love it here. If not here next year, I might look at teaching jobs in Mexico - at least that isn't such an expensive flight home! Most importantly, I want to continue working on my Spanish so that I can hopefully teach both English and Spanish one day. And since Mexico is close and cheap, and I have a friend with whom I can live in Colombia...well, Latin America is looking like the next logical step.

Current Conditions:
It's freezing cold here in Granada now, and there is snow completely covering the Sierra Nevadas (the mountain range which is the backdrop everywhere you go in the city). The mountains seem to call to me, and right now is the best time to go up there (no tourists, plus it's not as cold as it will be in the coming months). I would really love to organize a trip around a snowball fight. We'll see what comes of that.

Onwards and Upwards!
Ciao, until next time
XD

Now this is what I'm talking about...the real LIVING begins

2008-10-19T15:47:00.000-07:00

Yaaay - my first official LEISURE post since I've been back! I was beginning to think my life here in Granada was going to really suck this go-round if I didn't get in some good ol' fashioned chill time with some good people. Just my luck, as I emerged from my cave on Friday evening, feeling for the most part recovered from my week-long battle with la gripa (the flu), I learned that some girls from the house had pulled it together and organized a barbecue for the next day up on the mountain - the same place that Marcia, Ashley, Zevic, Thalia and I went during the summer. This was just what I needed after 6 whole days spent hibernating in my room, listening to everyone having fun without me through the walls in the house. I woke up early, and me and the girls went to AlCampo to buy all the supplies and beer, and we came back to the house to rally the troops - over 18 people had signed up saying they wanted to come!

When we got to the house, everyone was still asleep (go figure) at 1:00pm! As we patiently waited for everyone to get ready, we heard screaming outside and Shell, a girl from Australia, ran to the door yelling, "Blood! Blood!" Well, we didn't know what the hell was happening, but there was a Dutch woman in the street calling for help because she had just been robbed. Apparently, a young Moroccan kid grabbed her bag, which held all her money and the passport she would need to leave Spain in 2 days, so she refused to let go and held onto it tightly as he dragged her, causing her to bang her head open very badly. Blood was literally pouring from this woman's head, so we helped her into the house and called the police. She had a friend with her, and the friend called the Ambulance. We waited about 30 minutes and eventually it was all taken care of, but the woman still was very angry about her money and passport, all her things in her bag. This happened in broad daylight, just around the corner from my house, folks, and it's not the first time. This is the 3rd story I've heard of something like this happening just in the 3 weeks since I've been back, and all reports are near where I live. Lesson learned: I'm going to buy some pepper spray as soon as possible.

Anyway, once all that mess was straightened out, we headed out to the mountain. We threw the coals on the grill and got the fire going, and pretty soon we were cooking. It started to rain just a bit when we first arrived, but it led to some inventive grocery-bag headwear and blanket and/or hat improvisation, which really set the tone for the cookout. Later, the rain cleared up and the sky started doing some pretty incredible things, pushing the clouds around in these beautiful patterns. I'm not sure how many people were there, in grand total, but almost the whole house came this time, and we were quite content with our burgers and beer and scenery. Oh! We even had a little canine companion - Jerome, our old housemate who now lives in the caves, brought Lorita, a 6-wk old puppy who kept us company. She was cute as a button and twice as good-natured - I found myself wishing she was mine more than once (shame on me! I've already got a cat hating me back in the States, how could I possibly care for and then abandon another animal across the ocean?!).

Anyway, it started to get cold on the mountain, so after a few porros and the rest of the beer, we made our way back down the mountain - this time, we had cars to do it in! Both Julie from France and Oscar from Spain (the Basque region, to be exact) have cars here, so that was quite convenient. Although I must say - it felt exotic to be riding in a car in Spain, and I was fascinated to meet someone European (Julie) who found it so difficult to part with their car that they brought it all the way from France; however, cars are a pain in the ass, man. It was so frantic and stressful, just maneuvering everywhere and trying to find where we needed to go while we're trapped inside this huge piece of steel machinery...we had a big clusterfuck after the barbecue just leaving the mountain, trying to get out of the Alhambra parking lot. Then there was this whole need to be back in the Albayzin by a certain time in order to find parking. We were ready to pull our hair out, and I felt sick to my stomach it was so stressful, but hey - I guess some people love their cars so much that the stress becomes...normal? God, I hope this never happens to me. I'll put up with walking through rain, steep hills, streets of dog shit, and angry Spaniards before I'll ever again consider dealing with the headache of driving a car every day. For real, dude. Cars are a nice luxury and all, but it's just not worth it.

Anyway, everyone was exhausted when we got back, so we had hot tea and crepes back at the house, and I went to bed feeling quite content with my first day of recovery from THE PLAGUE.
Some photo highlights:

me and the site of hamburger madness behind me

a table full of Tina residents

the magnificent sky was performing for me

Isabella and her 2 Swedish friends, visiting for dos semanas

Lorita, the 6-wk old barbacoa companion

I want to die

2008-10-17T04:28:00.000-07:00

Seriously - this makes it twice this year that I've gotten sick with the same infection - or with what seems to be the same infection. The only difference is that this time I have to work through it and actually leave not only my bed but the house - a very challenging endeavor, indeed, when your whole body writhes in pain and anguish from just thinking about moving and every hour you experience a change in body temperature so severe it sends you either running for more clothes or conversely tearing the clothing from your limbs. Top it off with an achingly sore throat, a cough that would convince passersby that I am a 90-yr old man with emphysema, a congested and runny nose, and now expactorations of a bloody nature (sorry to gross you out, sickness is ugly)...well, I'm have a marvelous time, don't you think?

I was thinking this morning about health. I thought about how this sickness, which I've endured now for almost a full week, could have been much less painful if I had just gone to the doctor at the first signs of illness. So, then I have to consider why I didn't go to the doctor, and why I rarely go to the doctor when I'm ill? Granted, it's rare that I experience illness this severe, esp. two times in the same year, but I think my personal reasons may be two-fold: one, the fact that in America, if you are there without insurance, people will either scoff at you and turn you away, or treat you and send you the astronomical bill. I've always figured a few packs of Tylenol Flu is way cheaper and less embarrassing than having to deal with the humiliation of the American Health System; and two, my mother never took me to the doctor. I remember this one time, when I was sick with what the doctor later said was "the REAL flu," I laid on the couch for 2 FULL WEEKS before the woman took me to a doctor. By that point, not only had I missed a multitude of exams and homework, social club meetings and school what-have-yous, but I had fever blisters inside of my mouth, on my tongue, down my throat, in my nasal passages, in my tear ducts - basically, all nervous tissue in my body had been scorched by the ridiculous fever I'd endured for 2 weeks. When I finally went to the doctor, when my mother relented because she was afraid I had mono, I got some meds and was better in 2 days. I went back to school with scabs from all the blisters all over my face, eyes, and mouth, and everyone asked if I'd gotten beat up. "Nope, my mom is just cheap."

Anyway, I think I've inherited this awful trait of hers, and it occurred to me while being miserable this morning that, even though I don't have insurance here in Spain, most of the uninsured travelers I've spoken to have been treated by doctors and/or hospitals here, and some of them for FREE. Maybe I should head on down to the hospital?? It's certainly a thought. I can't take much more of this.

Connect the Dots

2008-10-13T06:19:00.001-07:00

I've felt sick for the past two days - probably of my own doing, since some impromptu drinking ensued on Saturday night and then, without feeling tip-top, I again went out to the Booga last night (but I only had 2 or 3 beers and called it an early night - go me!). Yesterday, it was a headache and nausea, and today my throat hurts too. Just in time for my first full-on week of teaching hours...hooray. I am non-plussed.

I realized after the last post that I left out some details between when I first got my teaching hours with one school and when the second school hired me. The first school (which I am not naming out of concerns for myself and them, due to the working papers thing) apparently sent my C.V. over to the second school. So, I went on an interview without even knowing this school had existed before then. I went into the interview thinking I'd already gotten the job, so I was completely cool and confident, and I killed it. They called me three hours later and promised me up to 20 hours this school year! So that's what happened to take me from just 4/hrs a week to a full-time teaching load, and only in a matter of a week! Go, me.

But what this means is that now I'm teaching 2 days a week from 9am to 9m (roughly, with a few hours here and there for eating and transit). A lot of the hours are one-to-one, which I absolutely love, but the trade-off is that they are mostly "house calls," where I go to the students' homes and teach them there for an hour or two. The other days of the week are fairly easy, though they also require a lot of "bopping around" the city. This is a pain in the butt because it requires taking the bus to the far reaches of the city, then often only having half an hour to get to the next lesson. I'm making it work, but of course being sick (if I am in fact getting sick) will definitely put a drain on my energy levels and make this a lot more difficult. We shall see, we shall see.

In other news, I made some rosemary potatoes today without an oven (not recommended). They became mashed potatoes almost instantly, but they tasted great. I've been experimenting with various grilled cheese sandwiches (gouda, mozarella, edam...the cheese options are astounding in Spain), but I'm learning that the key is the right type of bread.

Hmmm...what else?? Well, I had my first big money hitch that I discovered today. Apparently, when I cancelled my Sprint account, they decided it wasn't necessary to send me an invoice and billed me a whopping $250.98, which I of course didn't have the money in my account to cover, so now I've got two $35 overdraft charges on top of that and my account is more in the red than it's ever been. I can't do anything about it until the end of the month when I get paid, but even then it won't be a full month's work of pay, so...I'm quite angry and stressed out over this. I disputed the charges with both Sprint and my bank, but who knows what will come of it. I don't know when I'll have to top off my phone again either, so I'm reluctant to use my minutes to make long-distance calls and sit in a holding queue for 30 minutes while they jerk me around. Such is life across the sea, I suppose - often inconvenient.

Well, I feel like crap. I'm gonna unplug now.

dot dot dot

2008-10-11T10:01:00.000-07:00

And another week goes by...

I have reached Saturday, so I'm taking the opportunity now to post an update since my weekdays here are every so slightly filling to the brim as the two schools for which I am now working keep upping my hours. This is great, right? Of course it's great, for it means I will be able to pay my bills and live a decently comfortable life while here in Granada. It also means I get the experience I need to perpetuate my career as a TEFL teacher - a foot in the door was all it took, and somehow the miracle of a JOB has fallen into my lap.

However...

While on the one hand, I'm working mostly 1:1 hours with one school, AT the school, the other school is a completely different sack of potatoes. It's a really small school, very "hands-on" (their term, not mine), and they send me out on "house calls" most of the time. This means I'm hopping - not the Metro but BUSES - all over Granada, hoofing it from one bus stop to a student's home, then to another bus stop and another student's home...and so on, until I'm completely wrecked by the end of the day, just from going between points A and B, and then lugging all my books up the hill to get home. I came home Tuesday and was so exhausted and famished that I nearly cried into my leftover pasta. What have I done? I was asking myself. But, I woke up the next days and did it all over again, and each time, it seemed a bit less stressful. It helps that I get a few hours here and there in the week to deflate, have a cafe and a cigarette, and gather my mental bearings to prepare for the next student. It also helps that a lot of my students are 1:1, and a lot of them are at similar levels, preparing for the same exams. This eliminates a lot of lesson planning, for which I am unfathomably grateful.

Anyway, I'm doing ok. This is still only the beginning of the school year, and my course load is only 3/4 of the way full. I'm apprehensive about the amount of work it's going to be when my schedule is fully complete, but this way, it allows me to take baby steps towards a full-time work week. By next month, the routine will be much easier, and it will be a lot like carrying a college schedule, so I can certainly handle that.

I really like some of my students, too. There are only two that I'm not quite sure about (a brother and sister learning from home 1 day a week), and I got lost on the way to their first lessons and it was a bit hectic just jumping into the lessons so quickly to save time, so my first impression may be entirely wrong. I have one very bright 16-yr old boy who is at a very advanced level but just has some pronunciation and vocabulary issues. He's into politics and philosophical debate, so it's really fun to talk with him and engage his interests. I think he thinks I'm pretty cool, too :)

Outside of the job, there's no real news. The house is now completely full-up (British English), with all 17 rooms now occupied. It's a great vibe when everyone's here at the same time, but lately there are these lulls when absolutely no one is around, and it's quite creepy. I just hang out in my room, look up some lesson planning ideas on the internet, and wait for people to show up and chat with me.

The most exciting non-job-related thing on the docket for me now is HALLOWEEN! We're throwing a big party in the house and everyone will be in costume. I can NOT wait.

That's all for now. Gonna go down and help a friend pick out some new prescription eyewear - what fun ; )

Here Goes Nothing...or Something (maybe)

2008-09-29T13:05:00.000-07:00

Well, folks, I officially have a job! Sortof - I got 4 hours/week teaching 1:1 to students prepping for Cambridge Exams. I am happy for a few reasons:

1) I HEART 1:1 teaching!;
2) yay! for income - ANY income; and
3) 1:1 teaching allows me to slowly test the teaching waters since I'm nervous as hell for some unexplainable reason (perhaps that it's been about 4 YEARS since I left the teaching world...hmmm).

That said, happiness aside, I am incredibly nervous about teaching Cambridge Exams. I have the teachers' handbook and several coursebooks to peruse tonight as I prepare for my first lesson (tomorrow at 9am - yikes!), but still I'm unofficially concerned b/c the TEFL course didn't really cover exam prep teaching. We talked about it maybe one day out of the whole course. This shouldn't make any difference, especially since tomorrow I'm working with a brand-new (adult) student who's never gone to this school before and who the school thinks is already at a pretty good English level. But still...my heart was pounding even as I walked down to the school to finalize my teaching schedule, it was hard to breathe as I was waiting in the lobby for the DOS to meet with me, and I think I may have dodged eye contact more than 5 times while he and I were talking.

I can't explain where the hell this anxiety is coming from. It's seriously mystifying me. I keep finding myself wishing there were another TEFL teacher that I knew who was just starting out, like me, and in whom I could confide and comiserate. There are, conversely, lots of TEFL teachers all around me in this town who are working full-time or have been at least established in this line of work for several years. It's stupid to compare myself to others in this way and is only increasing my level of anxiety, but I just can't help myself.

I'm sure that after tomorrow, I will be able to breathe a sigh of relief and actually get to celebrate my first official (non-English camp) teaching job since my certification, but at this point I can't think of anything except how the hell I'm going to fill an entire hour with this student tomorrow morning. I have to remember that 4 years ago I was teaching non-native English students to prepare for the GRE in the States, and what that was like (pretty easy, actually). This will be a different kind of teaching - more strategy-based lessons and working on how to anticipate the format and difficulty of the exam components (of which I currently know nothing!). Guess I'd better get to cracking these handbooks, eh?

Wish me luck, loves. I sure as hell feel like I need it.

The Pajarita Has Landed

2008-09-24T10:59:00.000-07:00

(pajarita = female bird, for ya'll non-Spanish speakers...a.k.a. ME)

I'm here. I'm jet-lagged. I'm very tired and I have no idea how I'm still awake and kicking. The body is an incredible machine sometimes. I arrived here on time, somehow made it through the crowded-ass Metro to where I needed to be, stopped along the way for a backpack break (the thing weighs a TON) and a cigarette, then a Coke Zero at a McDonald's (shame on me...at least I didn't eat there!), and somehow magically oriented myself and found Lyosha's house - my first Madrid miracle! I always get lost in this city, but today luck was smiling on me. I don't think I'd have had the strength or patience to get lost with all my luggage. (by the way, Lyosha is the 'friend' of my friend, Lindy, who's so kindly letting me stay here tonight for FREE)

Good news is the weather is incredible here - it feels like the cold front that was blowing through New Orleans last week. I'm psyched to be back. I'll be even more psyched once I get some shut-eye, but I've got to last until Lindy gets off work at 10pm and we go out for drinksies and tapas (I hope). Then it's major crash time.

Oooh oooh, ALSO! Just got an email from another school in Granada and set up an interview for tomorrow - how's that for short-notice-perfect timing?! Wish me buena suerte.

The Countdown Begins...again

2008-09-16T11:48:00.000-07:00

Well, it all worked out in the end - I'll have part-time work available to me in Granada when I get there, on September 25th. It's not perfect, but I'll take it if it means I get to live in Granada instead of Madrid. I hope there's still room for me at the Palace!

So begins the new countdown...one week to go in the States before my return. Lots to get done, lots of people to catch up with, lots to be anxious about. Let's hope the 2nd big adventure is as "successful" as the first.

Heavy with Regret

2008-09-08T09:00:00.000-07:00

I generally refrain from outwardly expressing extreme emotion via blog, but I feel like such a complete and total idiot at this juncture that I am overwhelmed.

I got a job offer today for the most PERFECT job imaginable, only to find out classes start earlier than I will be in Spain, so it's likely that now they won't hire me. I tried to change my flight, but since I'd have to leave 3 days from now to get there in time, it would cost over $2,500 to make the change, which is just absolutely ri-fucking-diculous.

Why do I feel like an ass, you say? Of course it isn't my fault that classes start earlier and the DOS emailed me only 3 days ago to tell me this - how could I have known? Well, I feel like it's my fault because I was aware that classes in Spain generally start from mid-September to October, but I was greedy (and cheap) and wanted to spend as much time in the U.S. as I could (and also get the cheapest flight possible) before returning to Spain. I feel like some awful buildup of career karma is out to get me, but I can't for the life of me figure out what I did to deserve this agony of regret.

If this doesn't work out (and it's probably 90% sure that it won't, but I don't know until the DOS emails me back), I am devastated and totally freaked out about my future for the next year. Of the potential jobs there are available to me, anywhere in Spain, many of them will start classes on September 15th too, or at least want a face-to-face interview around that time, so because I'm not in Spain yet, I've lost all of those possibilites. With the chance of being hired already so low due to my non-EU status, I feel like all hope is lost, which makes me question why I am doing this in the first place, why I would just assume that things would work out no matter what when I don't have any rational proof to base it on.

So I guess the message for anyone who stumbles upon my blog and is also a beginner TEFL teacher in Spain, the moral of my story is GET TO SPAIN EARLY if you want to find a job, or you'll hate yourself later.

Gustav and Introspection

2008-09-06T14:18:00.000-07:00

Well, putting Spain aside, though I'd liked to have done it as a personal choice, turned out to be a necessity as Hurricane Gustav came barrelling into the Gulf Coast. I am now writing on the 6th day after the storm, from a CC's coffee house that is one of the first to reopen since Baton Rouge has been without power (as of Monday...and counting). A whole week, including Labor Day weekend, has been wasted, and I don't have much to show for it since phones and internet have been out for the count. What great fortune I've had while I've been back (sarcasm abounds)! But I guess it's my own fault for scheduling my return to the States during hurricane season. I'll definitely keep this in mind next year.

Spending 6 days without electricity, though, has led me to a lot of introspection. In the midst of sweaty nights of barely no sleep and anxiety dreams about not finding work OR a place to live in Spain yet - when I now have less than 2 weeks to do so before I go back - and sweaty days worrying where all my friends and family are and cleaning up the mess the storm left behind, I was barely able to muster up a smile when the b/f looked over in my direction. But I now have had a few nights of a/c (a friend of the b/f here in BR now has power and is gracious enough to host us) and thus a few nights of good sleep, and I can feel my head beginning to clear as I sip my Louisiana Blend dark roast.

Interestingly, I was perusing said friend/host's bookshelf this morning and came across a book called "The Meaning of Mindfulness." I cracked it open and learned several new deep breathing and meditation techniques to help me practice mindfulness. I haven't had the chance to incorporate these into my yoga practice yet, but just being in the moment and practicing the breathing, I already feel more like myself. Today, I've realized that no matter where I am, if I can find myself in the moment and recognize the joy of just being alive, I can be happy and satisfied. I only wish I'd had this epiphany 5 days ago when I was ready to tear my hair out.

Also adding to my increasing happiness, I received an email from a school in Granada that I'd commit murder to get a job offer from. I'm supposed to call them on Monday, and we'll see where it leads, but I'm really thrilled just to have the potential of it working out. I can't get my hopes up, because I know the disappointment would be fatal (this job would be the most perfect job I could possibly imagine for myself - it's centrally located in Granada, I could live at Tina, cost of living is cheaper there, and the school has good connections with Via Lingua and a good reputation). The word "ideal" just doesn't cut it to describe this job.

Anyway, I've come to realize that there is a turning point during the TEFL job-search process when all the denials and rejection emails seem to dwindle down and you start to get some positive feedback. For me, this point usually results in utter disappointment and career disillusion just before the sudden surprise of a great job offer (or as was the case this summer, two job offers). Throughout all my job searching, I've probably sent about 150+ C.V.'s out into cyberspace, filling up the inboxes of every DOS in every major school in Madrid (and every other school in Spain which advertises on TEFL.com and Dave's ESL Cafe). For every 10 C.V.'s that I send out, I get an email from a really good school telling me, "Thank you for your application, but we just can't hire non-EU citizens." And my hopes and dreams fall into the pit of my stomach. This is a humbling, pride-swallowing process. What I've taken away from it all is that a little bit of hope gets you through it. And while I only have 6 months of experience in this to go on, I'm fairly confident that this is the common experience for most TEFL teachers in the world. I'm hoping that this time the utter disappointment in my usual pattern takes a detour and the great job offer supercedes it. And that's about all I can do (aside from continuing to to pummell those DOS's with my C.V.).

In other news, I've discovered some really helpful blogs out there for TEFL teachers in Spain (one in particular is written by an American TEFL teacher). Check out The Pain in Spain for a lot of great information about teaching English in Spain.

I'd upload photos/videos of the recent hurricane, but I don't have the patience. Maybe I should do some breathing exercises.

Sho'nough Stateside

2008-08-25T19:30:00.000-07:00

Well, ya'll, I'm back. I've been back for about 3 weeks now and have been decidedly reclusive, not entirely to my own liking or choosing, but it's worked out for some nice 1:1 time with the b/f. So far while back in the States, I've been to a funeral, eaten at a Whataburger, gone to Destin and escaped a possible hurricane, and had only ONE mochasippi from CC's (showing some will power, there). I've been able to see almost all of my family, at least on my dad's side, but only one friend, b/c he happens to live in Baton Rouge where I've been staying. The next week is starting week for LSU classes, so I'm playing it low-key before heading back to NOLA to embrace all the sweet southern American faces I've been missing for over 6 months in Spain.

I have to mention how particularly odd and (sorry) depressing it's been, just being back after so long. The days seem so much shorter here, and the lifestyle so much less enjoyable, and I'm struggling all the while to prevent from making the endless comparisons so many American travelers make when returning from abroad. I do miss the tapas, and I do miss the cheap Rioja and just the overwhelming feeling of humility to be in the place that I'm in. I miss the friends I made there, but I also miss the ones I left behind. I'm making a point of putting Spain aside for now so that I'm not distracted while I catch up on all that I've missed.

Here are some photos I've taken so far. They kind of capture for me what it's been like, seeing my country with new eyes.

interesting juxtaposition of 2 American icons

my grandmother's funeral

on top of the Shaw Center, cocktails at sunset

my nephew has grown

yummy margarita, beachside in Destin

Whoa, Blogger: Where Art Thou?

2008-07-30T15:27:00.000-07:00

Well, I've officially returned from Oz. I'm not home yet, but I can safely say there's no place like Madrid.

I do apologize for the lack of blog upkeeping - totally unbecoming of a blog novice such as myself - and I do hope that you will all find it in your far away hearts to forgive me.

In the meanwhile, what kept me away for the month of June was a visit from Ashley, fellow Americana, which kept me quite occupied. We had some good times - went to Nerja and slept on the beach for 2 days, hiked up the mountain behind the Alhambra and barbecued, hung out with a lot of cool ppl from the Granada house, and had some times. More photos to come of all of that stuff.

As for the month of July, I was teaching English at a summer camp run by Interway in Madrid. There's a lot to say about Camp Interway and my experience over the past month, but frankly I'm too tired to say it at this juncture (I just got back today). I figure when I'm on my flight home (in FOUR DAYS!), I'll whip out the portatil and type it up when I'll have 12 hours to kill rather than here in Madrid where I have only four more days to live it up in Espana. So, sorry m'dears, the update'll have to wait. I will be sure to provide some fotos here for your viewing pleasure too.

'Tis all for now, folks. Besitos!

Spanish Rave

2008-06-01T10:18:00.000-07:00

So, I woke up yesterday around 2pm and laid in bed until 4, got showered and dressed and came downstairs to find everyone sitting in the patio talking, with a crazy flyer on the table that had a psycho killer clown face in the middle and a bunch of drum and bass bands and dj's all over it. "Hey Stevie, you wanna go to a rave?" asked Isabella. It took me a few hours to think about it, but I eventually caved and decided to go. This was a tough decision due to the fact that I'd been up til dawn the night before at a house party.

We went to the rave, which was supposed to have body suspension going on somewhere (per the flyer), but we unfortunately (or fortunately) never saw it. It was indoors at this bar on the outskirts of Granada, and we had to take a 20-minute bus to get there. The first few musical acts were pretty shitty, and when we got there we'd already drunk about a half bottle of wine each and shared a big container of gin and peach juice on the way, so moving on to beer at the bar was probably a mistake. Liz and Zevic checked out early after Liz threw up...I was running around with some crazy Spanish people I met and had no idea Liz was even sick. I feel sortof guilty that I wasn't there to help her, but thank goodness Zevic took care of her and got her home. I had my own small misfortune as well, when I ate shit outside in the field across from the bar. I don't really remember what happened, I think I was running for some reason and I just remember the impact of hitting the ground. I must have fallen on my side, because this morning my left elbow is cut and I have massive bruises on my left hip and knee. Good thing I was too drunk to feel anything at the time! There was a really sweet guy who helped me up and made me feel like not so much of an ass for falling.

The same Spanish guy, who was obviously not as drunk as me, somehow was able to find Isabella and Nuria (my only hope of getting home alive), so we went outside and found there was daylight. We laughed and waited for a bus to arrive but it never did, so we flagged a taxi and headed towards Plaza Nueva. Isabella and I climbed out of the cab and giggled our drunken asses all the way to the top of the hill, stopping at one point to admire the sunrise coming up over the Albayzin. The morning light was so beautiful, I wish I hadn't been so tired and could have enjoyed it more. I have no idea what time it was, but we got to the house and ate leftover pasta and rice and then I could feel my body giving up. I climbed up the stairs and into bed, where I am now sitting as I try to recover from what was definitely the most drunken night I have had in Spain.

Woohoo, Spanish rave. Woohoo.

Cosma! the house puppy (for now)

2008-05-29T10:44:00.000-07:00

Anybody want a puppy?!? She's just about the most adorable thing on earth, and smart too! U.P.S. won't ship her, so don't ask.

15 strangers decide to live in a house...

2008-05-26T10:18:00.000-07:00

Their lives are not taped, but they oughta be.

Seriously, someone should make a reality tv show based on this house. It would be riveting.

On Friday, I attempted to make it through one night without any alcohol, but as my will power faded, I found myself going down to the kitchen to make myself a vodka cocktail. Isabella and Marcia were going out to some schwarma shop down on Elvira to meet a friend of Isabella's, Patricio from Peru. I decided to tag along, and David did too. We'd busked for the first time that afternoon and made 20 euros in an hour, so I think we both felt we deserved a little imbibing time.

When we got to the schwarma place, Patricio was nowhere to be found. We ordered pitas and got some litres of beer and sat on the nearby steps to just hang out until we decided what to do. Avi, from Israel (the couchsurfing friend who had stayed with David one night and hooked up a few times with Isabella), walked past and joined us for a while. Then he disappeared and eventually Patricio came by with his Italian friend, Guiseppe. We decided to go to Entresuelo.

At Entresuelo, we had several beers and some chupitos (shots) of tequila (girls only) and tried to teach David how to dance. This was moderately successful. After several hours, we decided to head down to Perra Gorda (Fat Bitch) and see what was happening there. On the way, Marcia had to pee real bad but didn't want to cop a squat on the street, UNLESS, she said, we found a Mercedes. Apparently, Marcia doesn't care for pissing in public unless it's to make a statement. Lo and behold, just before we reached the bar, we spotted a Mercedes. Marcia christened the hood as an unsuspecting passerby caught sight of it and veered off to avoid any further witnessing. When we reached the bar, there was a party on the steps outside. Tons of hippies and dogs, a drunken flamenco player, and (thank god) a man with cold sandwiches and beer. We bought a bunch of cans of beer and sat on the steps for a while, taking photos. When we'd run out of ideas on what to do next, someone suggested going back to the house and making some food. So we set off to do this.

At the house, David played a folk song and then Patricio played a classical song on the guitar. Ramon came out of his room in is underwear and asked us to be quiet. Marcia made a bunch of pasta and we continued drinking beer and then ate like drunken madmen. Isabella and I talked about gratifying sex versus sex just for the sake of it, and the boys were riveted. After we ate, I went outside to the patio and was delighted to see a bright blue light coming spilling into the terrace. I made it to dawn!! I was so excited. David was too, so he set off to the Mirador to watch the sunrise. I didn't have the energy to go with him, so I stayed and eventually went off to bed around 8am.

Saturday, I took it pretty easy (slept in til about 4pm). I entertained Ann, Cecile, Lisa, and Jenny at the house and made a superbueno salmon dip (which I will certainly make again). We sang old songs from our LSMSA days, and it was a goofy, happy time.

Then on Sunday (yesterday), Isabella and I returned from a trip to buy cigarettes to strange distressed puppy noises coming from up the street. We mentioned something about the noise being irritating, but didn't think much of it. Then a buzz started to build as others mentioned the noise and that there was a puppy up the road in an abandoned building. The door to the building was locked, and the puppy had been sitting in the barred window for two days, trying to get someone to save it. It had no food or water and was just about the cutest thing you ever saw. Isabella went to the building and kicked the door in to save the puppy, and we brought her back to the house and everyone had happy puppy time. Isabella named the dog "Cosma"...she wanted to name her "Universe" but we thought "Cosma" had a better sound to it. So, obviously, we can't keep this poor abandoned dog at the hostal for very long, but it's so nice to have a little baby running around. Isabella really wants to keep it, but being a traveller makes it really difficult to keep a pet, especially a dog. We are searching for good puppy parents, but it's a difficult time (SPRING) in Granada to give away a puppy.

So, once we got the puppy settled, we set off to Booga (which we do every Sunday night), which is a bar in the city center that has an open jam session - jazz, latin music, bluesy stuff sometimes. I started to feel sick but decided to try and drink through it (bad idea). I had about 5 beers and then we did chupitos de ron con miel (shots of rum and honey), then a few more beers, and some dancing ensued. I ran into the guy who does sound at Hannigan's II, where David and I have been singing at the open mic night every Tuesday. He said he normally doesn't come to Booga, it's not really his style, but I was glad to see him and get to chat with him a bit, outside of the open mic night scenario. Marcia started to feel not so good by the end of the night too, so we made the executive decision to hail and split the cost of a cab back home and up the hill. This worked out perfectly for just over 4 euros - can't beat that.

Which brings me to TODAY, fine folks, where I am laid up in bed at 7:30 in the evening in such extreme pain and discomfort that I'm considering calling my mother (I always feel inclined to call my mom when I'm sick...it's an old habit from when I was young). I have a sore throat which seems to have caused my entire body to seize up and fight the infection - I am achey, getting chills and hot sweats, and I have a slight fever. To make matters worse, I've read all the books I brought with me and don't have the strength to make it into town to the english book store, nor do I want to spend money on those expensive damned books. So, I'm stuck watching the same old dvd's over and over again, wishing I could just sleep this off. I'm going to be pissed if I can't sing tomorrow (open mic night)...the sound guy said maybe we could sing "Creep" or "Fake Plastic Trees" together...hope David doesn't get jealous.

That's all for now. I don't know how I had the strength to type this much. Must be the boredom.
Also - sorry no photos recently, a girl from England borrowed my USB cable for my camera and hasn't returned it yet.

Fiesta de Corpus Christi

2008-05-23T04:40:00.001-07:00

Does anyone have any idea what all these fiestas in Spain are about??! I know they're religious, but I can't for the life of me figure out what, exactly, each festival is celebrating. Two weeks ago was the Fiesta de las Cruces (Festival of the Crosses), and now this....

Oh well, it's an excuse to party. And to shut down stores early, apparently, and often to do African dance. I'll try to upload a video clip of the dancing we watched at the park yesterday - sometimes blogger doesn't cooperate when I try to do that.

Anyway, David and I have been hard (or semi-hard) at work this week, practicing the 6-8 songs we're going to be singing around town. We had a really rough day of it yesterday, and I think it put him in a weird mood.

In other news, I bought a yoga mat at a cheap German store called Aldi - it only cost 5 euros! Major score. I'm not sure what's on the agenda for this weekend, but getting in some yoga time is a definite must, as I've been out of it since we came back from the beach last weekend.

So far this week, I've sung (again) at an open mic night, then saw an amazing guitar and singing duo at Tertulia (a bar in the city center), including incredible flamenco singing, witnessed in-home flamenco dancing by a professional as well as flamenco singing by a different professional, and seen spontaneous African drumming and dancing in the park. Not too shabby, Granada.

That's a run-down on what I've been up to since my last post. Ciao.

Working in the BLACK

2008-05-20T05:06:00.000-07:00

Being an American in Spain SUCKS, in short.

I went on an interview yesterday to a school that has a (underground) reputation in the TEFL world here for hiring non-certified or non-legal (a.k.a. ME) teachers, but they seemed very adamant about not hiring Americans and said, basically, that they wouldn't hire me. Ever.

Very demoralizing.

But, on the upside, I might have a possible job with a summer camp in Madrid lined up for July. It will pay 1300 euros (woohoo!) plus accommodation, food, and transportation to Madrid - can't beat that with a stick. I'll live in a little wooden cabin and have to work six hours a day, but the rest of the days will be mine to do what I want with. If this falls through, I'm going to contact the guy at the Finland camp that Lindy knows about and possibly try to line up work then. Madrid or Finland...hm??? Decisions, decisions, decisions.

La Fiesta de Chema!

2008-05-18T16:15:00.000-07:00

On Saturday night, when I returned from San Jose, I got straight down to business preparing red thai curry for Chema's birthday party (Chema is a guy from Seville who lives in the house and is just about the nicest guy on the planet). He'd bought all the ingredients and requested that I make a shit ton of food for all the guests, which included the 15 people living here now and their various friends or significant others, plus his friends from Nostromo, the comic store in town where he works.

There was a slight emergency when I realized Chema hadn't bought coconut milk - ppl suggested that I use cream instead, and I was in hysterics. "You can't make thai curry without coconut milk, you idiots!!" Well, two of the housemates saved the day by finding an open tienda at 10:30pm that actually had coconut milk, and all was right with the cooking world. The curry was even better than the last time I made it for the house, and easier too because this time I had an immersion blender at my disposal. Magnifico.

In addition to the thai, there were croquettes de atun, aceitunas, fried corn thingies similar to hush puppies, and LOTS of dulces: tarta de queso (cheesecake), homemade ice cream, strawberry & fudge cookies...OMG. We had so much beer, it was literally falling out of the refrigerator, and lots of wine. Somehow we made it through this party without drinking all of our booze - we had 9 litres of beer and 5 bottles of wine left over this morning! Success! Complete with trick birthday candles and several rounds of "Feliz Cumpleanos," I think the party met all of Chema's requests.

After drinking a bit at the party, we went to a bar called Entresuelo (which means "between the floors"), which is where all my photos are from. I was almost too drunk to stand, let alone finish my SINGLE beer that I bought there. After about an hour and a half, I made the journey back uphill to the house and to bed at 4:30am, and I slept til 2pm. When I woke up, I realized I'd been slightly sunburnt - guess it took all day and night to "set in." Way to go, melanin.

Tomorrow, I have an interview at CL, a prominent school here in Granada. The connection is a very good one, and I've got a good reference from Vince at Via Lingua. Hopefully the DOS (director of Studies) will know something or other about the summer camps here in Granada and be able to refer me...if I don't find some work to line up for June or July, I'm going to be in dire straights. I think I have enough money to get me through, but my self dignity will suffer a low blow, as will my mental health. Left to its own devices, the mind can be very self destructive. There's only so much busking, writing poetry and leisurely reading a girl can put up with. You think I'm joking, but I'm dead serious. All this leisure is so decadent...it's lovely, really, especially with the glory of Granada to compliment it, but it's getting to a point where I can't imagine myself actually having a job again. Read: DANGER ZONE

Anyways, that's whassup. Oh yeah - I met some Brits today who live at a sister house to this one, and they had lots of disparaging comments to make about Americans - and they made them in my presence! Shocking, but I guess I'm lucky that's the first time it's really happened since I've been in Europe. It's funny, really.

Playa Paradiso

2008-05-18T11:46:00.001-07:00

I took the opportunity to get the hell out of dodge, if only for a few days. Ann invited me to the beach near Almeria with a few of her girl friends. Ann, Lisa (from TN), Cecile (from France) and I rented a car and a beach bungalo in San Jose, on the Mediterranean coast, and it was heavenly. I had to leave early on Saturday via the bus back to Granada to cook for Chema's birthday party at the hostal, which was kindof a drag, but I'm so thankful for the time I had on the beach. I've got a bitchin' tan to show for it too!

We went to Playa de los Genoveses for the first day, on Friday, which was small and quiet without a lot of people. We had to hike a bit through incredible terrain that reminded me a lot of the beach towns in Mexico. There's a pic above of the hike back from the beach. We went back to the house and made pina coladas, and Ann prepared pork chops with asparagus risotto. We ate like queens. Then, we decided on a movie to watch and pushed two of the twin beds together and had a slumber party in the blue room (the bungalow was set up with different colors in each room...the kitchen/main room was orange, one bedroom was yellow, and one was blue). We watched Stranger than Fiction and Ann was the only one who stayed awake!

The next morning, I woke up at 7:30am and drank two cups of tea. Then I realized Ian would still be awake in the States, so I called him. He was quite surprised, and it was nice looking out from the terrace at the sunrise while we talked. Then when the rest of the ladies woke up, we ate cereal and strawberries (fresas) and headed to a new beach, the Playa Monsul - the first two pics above are from there. Ann and I kept saying, "This is just retarded," about how beautiful it was. I was glad to have a fellow American who uses that expression as often as I do and understands that there's nothing offensive about it. Then, I made the decision to take the later bus back to Granada so we could soak up more sun. We had a tapas lunch at the bungalow before the ladies dropped me off at the bus stop in San Jose. I rode 40 minutes to Almeria then changed buses and rode another 2 hours to Granada. As soon as I got back, I had to start making the curry for Chema's party.

I was glad to get out of Granada for a while. It really broke up the monotony and made me realize that you have to seize every opportunity to have a good time.

Rainy Day Woman

2008-05-12T06:50:00.000-07:00

I made a to-do list today, for the first time in a long while it seems. There's not much of importance on it: buy new phone minutes, get batteries for the camera, toilet paper and other various groceries. I also am going to take this guy, Ben, around the city center to put his C.V. out to as many schools as possible. He's desperate to find work but isn't certified yet, so...we'll see how much I can actually help him.

The recent days of gray, cold rain have awoken a sense of despondence and near severe lonliness in me. There was a party on Saturday, and we went out last night to the booga club until 5am. These drinking adventures serve as nice distractions when the sun goes down, but I find myself through the days not knowing what to do with myself. Should I just go for a walk? I bought a book called The Witch of Portobello by Paulo Choello. It's really beautiful, but I'm reading it too fast and worried about what I'll do once that's finished. I'll have to go out and buy another book, for sure.

Reading has been a very good way to kill the time pleasurably, but what I really want is a friend. I was hanging around with a guy from the house a lot, and for some reason one day everything just changed. He stopped asking me to go places with him, we stopped doing things alone together, which were the times when we really were able to talk. I felt for a while that I had a good friend I could count on, and now it's like he's intentionally pulling away. I'm not sure if this is common among travelers who don't want to get too attached to people they meet on the road so they try to avoid close connections, but I don't understand this. I think people are always going to be in your life for an undetermined amount of time, so it's important to make the most of the time together. I don't know. I feel guilty for expecting more from this guy's friendship. I feel stupid for wanting to ask him what's going on. I don't like feeling like I need something from other people...like I'm not self-sufficient or like I'm needy.

Anyway, that's a little bit of the undercurrent of emotion that's threaded through all of these dark, gloomy days in Granada. It's amazing what a difference the sun makes. I feel its power and like I can go out into the city and see and do anything. But with this overcast, I just want to stay in bed and fester about how lonely and bored I am. That's an overstatement, of course - I don't allow myself to stay in bed all day. But hanging around the hostal can only be so exciting. Perhaps I should go out and get a coffee. Yeah...that's the ticket.

Mixed Nuts (and feelings)

2008-05-05T08:40:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling a bit lonely and despondent today. Strange, after such a great weekend. I'm struck while here in Spain how every day brings something completely new and unexpected, including the occasional lonliness and writer's block. I was sitting there in my favorite spot just an hour ago, gripping my pen and notebook, and no words were coming. I had all the inspiration in the world around me...birds singing, incredible view of the river and the city of Granada, amazing sunshine, and yet no words. Maybe today wasn't set apart from the other amazing days in Granada, so it didn't feel unique or noteworthy. I don't know, but it's left me frustrated and a bit confused at the moment.

May 1-4 was the Fiesta de las Cruces in Granada, so all the schools were shut down as well as businesses. This meant I was left with no possible job hunting attempts, nothing to do but fiesta, fiesta, fiesta. Alastair, my neighbor in the house (which we lovingly call the Palace), brought a friend in from Madrid who was awesome and almost like having a little sister. With a little bit of home (she's from St. Louis, Missouri) and a whole lot of spunk, Lindy kept me entertained throughout my four-day weekend. There are pictures above for reference. She's gone back to Madrid, but I'm sure she and I will meet again. I miss having a girl friend to hang out with. Maybe that's part of the writer's block too.

It's been two weeks since the TEFL course ended, and I'm struggling to find some sort of drive to put myself out there and find work. I need to just decide on a day to get out there, put on my workin' clothes and hit the pavement. It's a bit frightening, and even more intimidating with all the decadent lounging I've been doing since the course ended. I feel like I've had to put aside the 9-to-5er Stevie and embrace a bit of the new Granada Stevie, who likes to hang out all day, play guitar and sing, make friends and eat dinner before heading out to the bars. But Granada Stevie might be taking over, and I'm not yet sure how I feel about that. Time to get off my hump (my lovely lady bump) and make some magic happen. Here goes nothing, right??

Un dia en Madrid, solo...

2008-04-25T04:35:00.001-07:00

Well, I have returned - from sleep at last, from a day without sleep while touring Madrid alone. I left on Wednesday night at midnight, drunk on wine and new friendship at the palace (the hostal I'm living in now), and caught the 1:30am bus to Madrid. I wrote a poem at the bus station that was interrupted when a black dude from Madrid started chatting me up. He gave me a cigarette and in exchange I gave him a phony phone number (he'd asked for my digits).

I arrived in Madrid at 6:30am, exhausted and a bit confused from lack of sleep. I had a cafe at Estacion Sur del Autobuses and waited for the U.S. Embassy to open at 8am. Then, I hopped a taxi to the Embajada (Embassy) and sat in line for an hour (notary service doesn't start until 9am...good to know). While waiting, the lobby played a looped video called, "I am America." I was sitting amongst all these ppl waiting to get U.S. visas. The video showed all the stereotypical patriotic shots of my country, tis of thee. It was surreal. When I got to the window (finally), they informed me that because I didn't have a printed copy of the document I needed notarized, they couldn't help me. They gave me a crappy map with hi-lighted directions on how to get to "The Work Center," a photocopy shop. So then I got lost looking for that place, walking the Madrid hills in the early morning among business men and women, construction workers bustling and whistling as I walked past. I almost didn't get the prints I needed, but then it worked out, so I somehow found my way back to the Embassy, took another number, and got back in line while the America video was still playing.

The notary ended up working out, although it cost $30 U.S. dollars (20.40 in euros), plus the bus and cab fares, plus the copy costs...you get the idea (not cheap). At this point, I had six hours to kill in sunny Madrid. I decided to visit the Prado, but first I needed sustainence. I found a bagel shop and had a coffee, some water, and a bagel bocadillo with jamon serrano and cream cheese (quite good, actually). I fed some birds and started walking in the general direction that I thought I had remembered the Prado was in. Along my walk, a young girl approached me with a clip board. She motioned that she was deaf, and could I sign her petition. I started to sign and then noticed in the far-right column a space for "donations." My eyes got wide, and I told her I only had 2 euros. She let me contribute anyway and told me I had a beautiful face.

I had trouble finding the Prado (as goofy as that is). Madrid is huge! I kept stopping to look at my map, realizing that I'd past my intersection or turning point, somehow I'd gone in the wrong direction or veered off incorrectly. The biggest problem I had was the roundabout intersections - it's very easy to start walking in the wrong direction when you cross them. Plus, they put street signs on buildings here, so often there's no sign telling you what street you're even on. Lots of backtracking, LOTS of walking in shoes that probably were't made for walking.

Eventually, I found the Prado. I took a picture of my victory finding (the ticket/aceso booth). I saw paintings by Velasquez and Goya, sculptures and works spanning the length of Spain's artistic history. It was a bit lonely. I saw the "midget" paintings my father loved so much - los bufones, as they're called here. I laughed with him on the inside.

It was only 2pm when I left the Prado, and my bus didn't leave until 4:30pm. I decided to treat myself to a nice meal in Madrid. I wandered off the beaten path (knowing that as far into the city I went, I would need time and energy to walk out again) and found la Pizzeria Cervantes - I'd been DYING for real Italian pizza. The wait staff giggled when I came in and said only, "Uno." The Argentinian casero complimented my Spanish and asked where I was from. I had a pizza verde with asparagos, alcachofas, broccoli, and oregano and loads of fresh mozzarella. A glass of tinto, and I was on my way to hail a cab and head back to Granada.

Met some interesting folks at the bus station, one black girl from Chicago who hadn't figured out the Spanish bus system yet, and an older Spanish woman from Granada who seemed to adopt me as her "nina" (she called me this several times throughout the bus ride). I didn't even catch her name....

Anyway, I took a video of part of the final bus ride. I got back to the palace at 9:30pm, ate some leftover pasta, and crashed out until noon today (Friday, but I keep thinking it's Saturday). This was my first real travel experience abroad, totally alone. It was liberating, and I was talking in Spanish all day, so I came back very eager to continue speaking and thinking in Spanish. At least now I know that travelling alone, though of course a bit lonely and intimidating, can be quite thrilling, and for some reason the most tiny little parts of my day are so vivid and memorable. I guess it's because I didn't have anyone to share them with, so my mind was filing it all away, taking notes of it all.

I hope the water is warm

2008-04-18T00:34:00.000-07:00

An official WOOHOO is much needed.

Today, I get my CTEFL...FINALLY. We all took the Grammar Exam (the final component of the course) yesterday, and I am pleased to report that I got a 94.5! I beat my score on the mock exam, which was the highest anyone had ever gotten - EVER. Gloat, gloat, gloat. I am pleased as pie.

However, one of the trainees unfortunately did not pass. He's re-taking the exam this morning, and several of us fellow trainees/students rallied together last night to help the guy study. I hope he passes. It won't feel right getting our certificates if he doesn't get one too. To come all this way and fail at this last stage...I think I might cry if they don't pass him. He's such a nice guy and a GOOD teacher. He really deserves to pass.

Anyway, it's been a while, so there is more news I suppose. I'm moving tomorrow into the "sister" hostal of the one I'm in now. My room is a bit pricier than I expected it would be, but there's a double bed and an outside view, plus a nice, big shower. It's far nicer than the other rooms that are available now, so I don't so much mind the increased rate. It's still cheaper than New Orleans! I will still be at the top of the hill in the Albayzin. My new place is right across from the Hostal Makuto, if you're familiar with the hostals in Granada. You can find Makuto on most hostal websites, and I am directly across Calle Tina from there. I think you can even google-map it.

Anyway, once I pack up all my shit here, I will move it over there and settle in. On Monday, I think I'll check the bus schedules and try to get up to Madrid to head to the U.S. Embassy. I need to get some documents notarized for the auto settlement so I'll have something to live on through these next few months, which should be tough ones b/c it's the low job season for TEFL teachers. I might spend the night in Madrid, if I can find a cheap hostal, and see the Prado or something.

Once I get back to Granada, I will begin the job hunt. I'm thinking I will post as many possible ads for private tutoring as I can. That's where my heart really is - the 1:1 sessions with motivated students. Standing up in front of a class, day-in and day-out, doesn't really thrill me. I mean, I feel way more confident with it now, but I still prefer tutoring 1:1.

Anyway anyway...today we're supposed to have Paella as a little "party" for getting our certificates, then we're going out for tapas at 9pm with (hopefully) some of our students from the school - it depends on whether they actually show up or not, but most of them said they were coming.

Gotta go shower now. I hope the water is warm.

My TEFL, tis of thee I sing

2008-04-01T15:07:00.000-07:00

The Via Lingua TEFL program - what do we think of when we see these words? Anybody?? Can you try to guess?

HELL??
Yes, that might be a word one would think of.

ANXIETY x10??
Yes, that might be a possible phrase.

FEAR, DREAD, LACK OF SELF CONFIDENCE, SLEEP and FOOD?
Why yes. These too might be possible.

Basically, the last 10 days of my life have been about preparing a lesson plan. I have shoveled more into my brain than I care to ever dig out again, although the point of getting it in there will be to later pull it all out through my ass and teach it to some non-native English speakers, which at that point should be all fine and dandy. But until then...my head hurts!!

But seriously. I think I've lost about 10 pounds. I don't have any food to eat for breakfast in the mornings and my classes go for 12 hours a day, so there's never any time to get any food let alone to eat it. Most of the time, it's just plain inconvenient to eat, with all the work I'm doing. So I don't. Some days, I have to go without showers or sacrifice a portion of the 4-5 hours of sleep I get per night. And that's nothing on the mental anguish of this course. I'm a wreck. I think we all are.

For those of you just tuning in, I'm taking the Via Lingua CTEFL certification course in Granada right now. I've just hit the middle of week 2, and I'm honestly surprised that all the things other ppl told me about how tough these courses were wasn't just bullshit. I thought, "Eh, no problem. I can handle it." But it's kicking all of our asses, and there's even a fellow trainee who might fail (already showing signs of defeat).

But on the positive side, I am learning an incredible amount about how to be a teacher. This is like a crash-course in what all those idiot education majors were doing in college, wasting away their lives teaching at a public school for university credit for an entire year. I'm packing all that into 4 WEEKS, and truly the difference in length of time has no relevance whatsoever when it comes to the quality of the experience. I will not only be a good teacher after this; I'll know I'm a good teacher. Scratch that - I'll know I'm a great teacher.

Anyway, that's just general stuff about how my days have been and where my head is lately. I could go way more into detail, but I'll spare you. I do want to impart that after a very crash-and-burn first lesson in practice teaching, I am now on my third lesson and it's all "clicking" for me. I'm on the verge of a perfect lesson and I can feel it. Only four more lessons to go before I have that piece of paper that will validate the past 5-6 years of my life. World of teaching/dreams coming true, here I come (oh wait, I'm already here).

How beautiful is it??

2008-03-25T15:20:00.000-07:00

Ok, so at first I was travelling and didn't have my laptop or a dependable internet signal in order to post anything, but now here I am after my first two (twelve-hour) days of the TEFL course, and I'm bloody tired (picked up some new british expressions from my classmates) and have absolutely NO time in which to post anything.

However, I'm stopping from productivity and lesson planning and worrying about my first teaching session tomorrow to impart how absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous this country is, how warm and loving the ppl are, how delicious the food is (when you know how to ask for it and what to ask for...), and in general how you've all got to get your asses over here and experience it for yourself.

I love Europe. I don't know that I want to leave. Ever. I feel like I fit in here as a traveller, a lifelong student, a language teacher, and a human being. You find connections in the strangest placest, really, when you're not even looking for them.

The first pic from above is a view of the Calle Darro (a street which runs along the base of the hill on which sits the Alhambra), and the other is a view of the olive groves and amazing landscape from the train ride through Andalucia - we rode direct from Algeciras, through Ronda, and back to Granada for the weekend of Semana Santa. I don't know how I chose these two out of the 700+ photos I've taken so far, but they at least show how amazing the scenery is around here. There are so many other sides just of Granada, let alone the rest of Andalucia.

I think gradually, or maybe one night when I'm all caught up on my studies, I'll post a flickr page with all my pics for you all to see. Until then, they'll have to come in bits and bobs (british english, which is the standard my course is adhering to, by the by) by way of my blogspot.

HOLA, de Granada!!

Estoy en Madrid!!!

2008-03-12T12:43:00.000-07:00

Jetlag was a bitch, but after the tapas dinner and 14 hours of sleep I got, my first official day in Madrid was amazing. I started with a cappuchino outside at a cafe, with flamenco guitar serenading me in a madrilño street pocket, got lost finding the Centro de Arte Reina Sofia but finally found and saw Guernica, ate paella and drank rioja for dinner, and now I´m off to try gelato or maybe churros y chocolate, depending on my mood. Not too shabby! And I think all I´ve spent today is about 30euros (Madrid is pricey).

Tomorrow, it´s off to Granada by bus. I overpacked, most definitely, and it is miserable lugging around all that stuff. Luckily, my friend Ann in Granada agreed to keep my three suitcases while I travel around Andalucia.

Also of note, I had crazy anxiety dreams while dozing in and out of jetlag sleep. Too much luggage, "What have I done?", and "Where the hell am I?!" were some of the themes. I never knew jetlag also brought with it a sense of depression. Good thing the majesty of Madrid counteracted all that!

BTW, London SUCKS (at least the airport, I mean...$50 for two hamburgers!! And they were SHITTY).

Pictures to come, once I figure out the wi-fi system. I have lots already!!

In these final hours

2008-03-04T14:32:00.000-08:00

Just a quick note, this being my VERY LAST HOUR on my VERY LAST DAY of work!

Not that this is such a great thing. It would be different if I didn't actually like my job. The new firm (recently split from its other half) had a goodbye lunch for me today from Five Happiness (my favorite!).

How coincidental can you get?!????

2008-03-04T14:25:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I asked around and nobody had read my Feb. 7 blog about wanting a surprise party. Well, SURPRISE!!

I got it. And I was quite embarrassed, too, but not as embarrassed as I'd have been, had everybody in fact read my blog. I feel like a big sissy pants for worrying.

Anyway, this picture sortof warmly captures the evening. There were a lot more ppl there than this - just about everyone was there that I wanted to see before I go - and I felt very special and loved. I now feel a little bit of closure on these past few years in New Orleans, which is all I really wanted in the first place.

AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

2008-02-27T09:18:00.000-08:00

Seriously. I leave NOLA a week from tomorrow.

For posterity's sake, I must impart that I haven't been sleeping well and, some nights, not at all. I can't seem to drift off until about midnight or 1:00am (I usually would be passed out around 10pm), and then I wake at ungodly hours for thirty minutes at a time, in between random panic dreams about losing luggage at the airport or terrorist attacks in Madrid or the roof caving in on my apartment while I'm trying to pack.

In short, it's crunch time. I haven't even moved all my shit to storage yet, and already I'm exhausted. This is so much of a mental pressure than a physical.

Tonight, I'm meeting with M. to book hostel, bus, museum, and train tickets in advance. We have about 14 days total to map out, and (in addition to all the other loose ends I have to tie up) I'm really feeling the weight of all that planning. I can't believe I waited this long to finalize so much, but I also can't beat myself up about that (my natural inclination). I'm taking things one day at a time, and hopefully my (restful) nights will come back to me. Is there such a thing as pre-trip jetlag?? If my sleeping situation doesn't straighten out quick, I will be in for a rough few days after we land in Madrid.

Since I haven't really mentioned my 2-week holiday with M. (before my course starts), here's the list of what he and I have to get figured out before we leave, organized by the Spanish cities we will visit and some of the things we will do in each:

Bookings

Madrid
Hostel (1 or 2 nights, 3/11, 3/12 depending on bus or train ride)
Storage Locker for luggage (or if too expensive, may opt for private budget hotel)
Metro Pass (1-2 days in Madrid)
Museum (advance ticket to Reina Sofia (Guernica) or pass to 3 museums)
Bus ticket to Granada

Granada
Hostel (1st stay: 3/13, 3/14, 3/15; 2nd stay: 3/21, 3/22, 3/23, 3/24, 3/25, 3/26)
Metro/Bus Pass

Alhambra Tickets (3/14) *check travel books*
Bus ticket to Malaga (3/15)

Malaga
Hostel (1 night: 3/16)
Picasso Museum, Arabic Castle, Cathedral
Bus ticket to Ronda-Algeciras-Tarifa

Algeciras
Car rental to Tarifa, or other mode of transportation

Tarifa
Campsite/Hostel (3/17, 3/18, 3/19, 3/20)

The Peacemaker

2008-02-15T07:35:00.001-08:00

This is scary. I just took this thing called an "enneagram" test, and the results are so right-on I'm freaked out. I have hi-lighted (in green) the parts that are particularly me. BIZARRO, folks.

You chose BX - your Enneagram type is NINE (aka "The Mediator")

Peacemakers are receptive, good-natured, and supportive. They seek union with others and the world around them.

How to Get Along with Me
If you want me to do something, how you ask is important. I especially don't like expectations or pressure.
I like to listen and to be of service, but don't take advantage of this.
Listen until I finish speaking, even though I meander a bit.
Give me time to finish things and make decisions. It's OK to nudgeme gently and nonjudgmentally.
Ask me questions to help me get clear.
Tell me when you like how I look. I'm not averse to flattery.
Hug me, show physical affection. It opens me up to my feelings.
I like a good discussion but not a confrontation.
Let me know you like what I've done or said.
Laugh with me and share in my enjoyment of life.

What I Like About Being a NINE
being nonjudgmental and accepting
caring for and being concerned about others
being able to relax and have a good time
knowing that most people enjoy my company; I'm easy to be around
my ability to see many different sides of an issue and to be a goodmediator and facilitator
my heightened awareness of sensations, aesthetics, and the here andnow
being able to go with the flow and feel one with the universe

What's Hard About Being a NINE
being judged and misunderstood for being placid and/or indecisive
being critical of myself for lacking initiative and discipline
being too sensitive to criticism; taking every raised eyebrow and twitch of the mouth personally
being confused about what I really want
caring too much about what others will think of me
not being listened to or taken seriously

NINEs as Children Often
feel ignored and that their wants, opinions, and feelings are unimportant
tune out a lot, especially when others argue
are "good" children: deny anger or keep it to themselves

NINEs as Parents
are supportive, kind, and warm
are sometimes overly permissive or nondirective (ok, I'm not a parent yet, but I suspect this one will be true.)

Heavy Heart

2008-02-07T06:05:00.000-08:00

Since the beginning of February, I've been waking up and feeling the need to scream. Or jump up and down. But mostly, I just want to scream for a solid five minutes or so. Last night, this urge came as I tried to go to sleep. This is a new phenomenon for me.

Generally, before a big trip or life-changing event, I'm cool as a cucumber and don't much notice the impending chaos hanging over me. The feeling will hit me a few days, maybe a week afterwards, and then I go into a state of shock and awe. The first night of my studies abroad trip in Mexico, everyone was pissed at me because not only was I snoring for a solid three hours, but I was the only one who in my casita of six ladies could come close to shutting her eyes the entire night. Everyone else was too excited, but I was like, "Whatever, I'm here now and it's midnight. I'll be excited tomorrow."

I guess karma is a bitch because, if last night's dream is any indication of what the upcoming month holds for me, this trip promises to deplete me of all genuine sleep and drive me into jetlag before I even get to the airport. I dreamt last night that I could see my actual heart in my chest, and it was looking at me very sadly even though it didn't have any eyes. I kept telling it, "I'll go running tomorrow if you want me to! I'll stop smoking! You poor thing." And then it started heaving like it was crying, so then I started crying and told it I wished I could hug it. It said to me haughtily, without words, "Don't worry. Your shoddy ribcage is doing a fine job." I was snubbed by my own heart.

There are reasons for this dream, beyond general travel and/or health anxiety. Since Mardi Gras has now passed, I feel like I have way to much shit to handle and too little time to do it in. Realistically, due to my good planning over the months, I have the perfect amount of stuff to do and a decent amount of time to do it in. But that's all stuff I have to do, not really the stuff I want to do, like hang out with all my friends and go out to eat at all the places I'll miss when I'm gone and visit with my family. Consequently, I'm feeling kindof lonely I guess.

Also, it's only natural for me to feel a bit self-centered at a time like this, but I've found myself a bit pissy about the fact that nobody is trying to make time to see me as much as they can before I go. I mean, hello?! Bon voyage party, anyone?!? The only person who's talked about such a thing is my mawmaw, and (sorry) I can only get so excited about that . Add to that the fact that everybody bailed on my birthday dinner last year, so with the upcoming birthday, the looming potential of a repeat offense has me feeling a little pre-dejected. I'm doing that silly thing that all women do, where they know what they want but they get pissed that no one else just knows and gives it to them. I'll say it: I'm pissy about having to organize my own goddamn going-away/birthday party. I mean, having to organize it and plan your own "party" - which I do every year for my birthday, embracing the philosophy of "if you want it done right, do it yourself" - is always somewhat off-putting. But what do you do, right? It's not every day that ppl read your mind and think, "Ah! I bet Stevie wants to be surprised by a big dinner party with all the people that she loves before she goes! Let's do it." Sigh. I'm Veruca Salt, aren't I?

So anyway, I realize how silly these feelings are and that they are likely a natural part of the process of big change, and I just need to get over my little female hissy fit and suck it up, be appreciative of the things I have and not the things I might not get. I think for my own sake I have to just put all of the emotional stuff out of my head and focus on the tangible things I need to get done before I leave. Everything else will come as it does.

Sheesh. Can you tell I'm freaking out?!? I'm seriously going to go to the park soon and just scream as long as I can. I have to find some place where that won't attract a lot of attention though. Anybody got a sound-proof room I can borrow??

Sweet Relief

2008-01-28T12:07:00.000-08:00

I did it. It's over. It was pretty much painless, but my hands are still shaking. I've really got to get a hold on this anxiety business. I was taking deep breaths all morning to prepare myself for what I had to do.

The boss was (of course) kind and understanding, saying he understands what an opportunity this is and that I have to take it. He was visibly nervous. I think he was worried that I was putting in my two-weeks' notice, which would mean that he would be up shit creek during the upcoming trial. So, there was relief in his eyes that he has me until March, and this eases my mind.

I even told two of my co-workers. They were really excited for me. It's really happening now. Officially. Oh...my...GAWD.

A Chicken Shit Bad Actor

2008-01-24T08:38:00.000-08:00

I got to work early today, and the conditions were perfect for stepping into the boss's office and dropping the bomb.

But I just couldn't do it.

My hands got all sweaty, and my heart was pounding and I was worried I might do something awful like cry or something. This has become an issue of acting ability (of which I am not certain, but I believe I have none), which means I am so totally screwed. It's so easy to just send a resignation letter or make a phone call saying you can't come in for the day - but stepping into the office, shutting the door, taking a seat across from the big desk and staring into the eyes of the man who's going to likely be devastated at the news of your impending career change is quite a different thing.

Plus, I have to act like this was a spur-of-the-moment thing, like I just got an acceptance letter yesterday and it's an opportunity I just can't pass up. That's a big ol' lie, folks, and we all know how bad I am at lying. So, I'm trying to convince myself that the lie is the truth. I'm getting into character, if you will. I should show up on the day that I tell him not afraid or guilt-ridden but excited, as if my life is about to change and the last thing I'm worried about is my job here. I can get into that scenario, right? Easy enough. It's just hard enough waking up late most days, heading into work and dealing with the bus ride and the long walk through the CBD, only to find I'm still 15 minutes late and the day has already started, getting bombarded with all the crap I have to deal with that day - all of that, every day, and withOUT the stage fright that I suffer when I think about telling him I'm quitting.

Stupid thing is I know he'll be happy for me. Sure, he'll be disappointed, which is what I'm most dreading, but he's going to be so nice about it, the way he is about everything. God, it kills me. I'm such an idiot.

Worst thing is I can't figure out why this is bothering me so much. I guess it's the way I deal with things on my obligatory "to do" list. It's an issue of patience, mostly. If I try to get something done, or if I spend a lot of time thinking about getting something done but having to wait for the proper time to do it, and then if that time gets here and I can't just get it over with, for whatever reason, it makes me all squirmy. I'm just not a very patient person, I've come to realize. I should treat this like ripping off a bandaid and just do it.

I'm thinking Monday is THE DAY. It'll give me the weekend to prepare, get it right in my head, rehearse in front of the mirror (hey! don't give me any grief - you know all you acting ppl do it too). God, I'm just a chicken shit bad actor.

Freddy, you're saved!!

2008-01-23T06:17:00.000-08:00

It's officially un-official, but I believe I now have not one but TWO options for someone to keep my Freddy-Fuzzy-Stuff. Hooray!!! I feel so good it's like nothing else matters, but of course that's not true. Money (of course) still matters, so rounding up the last bits of medical records to deliver to Geico is the #1 priority. Settle! Settle! Settle!!

In other news, I have an eye exam scheduled for Saturday - can you believe I found the ONE provider on my entire insurance plan who operates on a Saturday, and they're only 2 blocks down the road from me?!? What luck! Also, I'm getting two fillings next Tuesday. The appointment is at 1:00pm, but I think they may have to give me the gas before I will let them anywhere near my mouth with those needles - the last time I went through this, they hit a nerve in my jaw, and the time before that, the needle broke in my frickin' mouth and blood was shooting all over the place. So, anyway, I'm wondering whether work after that will even have a point - I might mistakenly start filing my trial exhibits into the shredder, some subconscious evil playing itself out or something, and that would be no good indeed. So after those two lovely dates, I only have to visit the OB/GYN and my allergist, and voila! I will be in tip-top shape for a Spanish adventure.

It has occurred to me recently while re-reading my own blog (yes, I am that self-involved) that this whole thing might sound really stupid. Like, why do I feel the need to tell everyone about all the minutia of my planning efforts and try to make it sound sooo interesting, as if anyone cares? Not that this is going to stop me from doing it [see above diatribe on the stages of my planning phase], but I just want to impart that if any of you dear readers are bored with all of this crap, please don't let this dissuade you from my future postings - the ones I'll actually be writing when I'm IN Spain, for chrissakes. I promise my life will be a lot more interesting - well, let's hope it is anyway - or at least more interesting to read about.

There.

On a side note, I had a very weird dream last night. There was a strange man in it who was fixing the tire of my (dream) car, and he wrote me a ticket for something ridiculous like eating ice cream or something. It was one of those dreams where I was like, "Hang on...this is really bizarre. What in the world am I dreaming about THIS for??" Anyway, sorry I can't give you more, but if more of it comes back, I'll let you know.

Holy Moly

2008-01-18T11:08:00.000-08:00

Alright, a new blog is in order due to the increasing mess of CHAOS that 2008 has brought along with it.

As for the timeline of things to accomplish before March 7, 2008 - when I leave for Houston, TX to fly to Spain on March 10 - I appear to be in good shape. I got my apartment rented, all is clear with the landlord, and I am set to be out of there by March 7. I saw the dentist and should have decent teeth and gums to chew with while I am in Spain. I also completed treatment with the orthopedist at Tulane, so I should be clear to settle my claim with Geico once all of my medical bills and records come in. I'm fiddling with trying to get those as soon as possible, as the majority of my near future is resting on whether or not I have money to LIVE on in Spain for at least two months (it's looking iffy without the settlement, folks). I just filed my 2007 taxes, and I should get at least $724 in refund for both Federal and State taxes - yippee!

So, all of that aside, there has been a SHITSTORM at the office since the New Year. One of the partners at my law firm decided to dissolve the partnership, retroactive as of December 31, 2007. Since my boss is neither a partner nor an associate (he's somewhere in between), he has the choice to continue business with one or the other partner. The day we found out about the dissolution, he pulled me into the office to ask if I was willing to go with him, wherever that may be. I said of course, I work for YOU, not the firm, as far as I am concerned.

Anyway, long-story-short, while I was dealing with that mess, my boss's major current case which was originally set for trial on January 7 keeps getting bumped further and further into 2008. I was waiting for him to (hopefully) win that trial, or at least get it over with, so that I could drop the bomb about Granada. Well, it seems fate has other plans, as the trial is now starting the week of Mardi Gras, which will be an official 1-month and counting from the date of my departure. I'm worried that if I tell him I'm leaving in less than 2 months, it will fuck up his head before the trial and ruin his life (dramatized for effect). To top it off, he calls me into the office today to tell me he's reached a decision about which partner he wants to continue to work with, and he asks me whether I still want to go with him or not. I say, again, of COURSE I'll go with you. And the guilt-trip-o'meter soars.

I guess my issues with the whole thing are tied into the fact that I really do respect and enjoy working with my boss - he took a shot on me when he hired me with little experience, and it's rare to find someone willing to do that in the business world. Also, he's just a swell guy, very polite and understanding, patient as I learn new things, and direct and clear when giving instructions. Plus, he's representing me as my de-facto "attorney" in my Geico settlement, so I think about that too. I just feel bad, is all. Now that he's decided to move with the other partner, he's talking all these ideas about how things will improve, how I'm going to have my own office (finally!!), how we'll be making more money and hopefully holding on to a lot more. Part of me wants to make this move with him! Part of me regrets what I might miss. Am I insane?!? I'm worried about a measly legal assistant job even though I'm moving to Spain?! MY Spain! The experience I've talked about non-stop since I graduated college in 2004, thinking for so long there was no way in hell I'd be able to ever make it happen!!

I need to have my head examined. Seriously. I'll add that to my to-do list for before I leave. Shit.

Can I get a "Amen!"?!?

2008-01-10T10:25:00.000-08:00

I just went to google image and typed in "I'm Done!" and this is what it brought me. Check out the cat in the front! He is not well pleased.

Apartment, SOLD! Last orthopaedic visit, DONE. Dentist visit, LOOMING. Storage unit, RESERVED. Yesterday, I paid the whopping $2,000+ in remaining fees and accommodation costs to ViaLingua, so now that, too is finished.

!!!!

Yippy skippy. Yes, I just said that. Or typed it. "Yippy skippy" is one of those phrases that I personally feel is just so overpoweringly marvelous that it becomes really obnoxious after too much use, but in this particular scenario, on this particular day of all days, it feels incredibly appropriate. And here I go, throwing in an invective infix and an exclamation mark for good measure: Yippy Damn Skippy!

Now, in addition to the impending doom of my dentist visit (in case you didn't know it, I'm turrrified of the obligatory dentist), I must deal with the heartbreaking chore of finding someone to keep my beloved Freddykins. Every spare "lovin" moment that I get to spend with him (and those of you who know this quirky feline know what ritual is entailed by "lovin") and I think about leaving him behind, I get a big ol' lump in my throat and my knees feel a bit week and I just don't feel quite right in the tummy. All this is tripled by the idea that I might have to leave him with someone untrustworthy or irresponsible or downright mean. The thought seriously makes me sick that he would suffer even a single day because of my selfish desire to see a foreign land and spread my love of language. Is this what parents go through over their snotty little kids?? It must be. After all, Freddy pukes a lot and does tend to claw up my good bed skirt - yet I love him still! At any rate, I do hope that I find someone reliable to watch over my sweet kitty.

In other news, I finally put away some reticent anger I was feeling towards a certain relative of mine who shall remain nameless, and I'm flooded with relief. I couldn't sleep last night around midnight because the words to a letter I wanted to write this person were running through my mind, and I was too afraid I would forget them by the time I woke up the next day. So, I sat up at 12:30am and typed out about 300 words or so, and come to find out this morning, I don't even have her email address or myspace page. Go figure. Now I'm left with this perfectly satisfying summation of all that I want to say to this person and literally nowhere to put it. I suppose I could always just stick it in the mailbox, old-skool style. Maybe I'll do that, to get it out of my hands and off of my mind.

I can't wait for the weekend. Holla.

The home stretch.

2008-01-02T09:32:00.000-08:00

Yes, sir. This is it. The holidays are over, it is 2008, and this week marks an official TWO MONTHS and counting. I could not possibly be more likely to pee my pants at any given mention of my impending move to Granada.

For my own sanity, and at the risk of boring readers to death, I am going to list the tasks which I still must accomplish by March 7, 2008:

1. Pay ViaLingua final course fees and accommodation fees (having difficulty with the money wiring system)

2. Find a 6-month home for Freddy

3. Take pictures and put up a Craigslist ad to find a new tenant for my apartment

4. Rent a storage unit/move belongings to a storage unit (1st week of March/last week of Feb.)

5. Tell employer I am leaving!

6. Doctor Appointments: Dentist, Gyno, Allergist, Orthopedist, Optical (new glasses)

7. Settle Auto-insurance Claim with Geico (hopefully for a decent amount)

8. Make a list of what to pack

9. Buy a webcam and make sure it works with Ian's webcam (also download and test Skype)

10. To buy: webcam, laptop sleeve/case, goretex shoes for hiking, bed roll/sleeping bag, luggage lock, toiletry/cosmetics case

11. Study/read TEFL book from cover to cover to prepare for course

12. Research:
a. health insurance
b. traveler's insurance
c. money exchange and foreign banking

13. Detail-plan my 2-week backpacking trip with Matt (taking place before the CTEFL course) - emphasis on BUDGET!

Now, I suppose one might consider these things perfectly do-able within a 2-month time frame. However, I am feeling quite overwhelmed by every little detail PLUS the tiny increments of time and effort that each little detail requires. I also have caught the infamous "winter cold," which is absolutely miserable, but I seem to be reaching the light end of the tunnel, so hopefully I will gain a healthy momentum in these next few days and knock out some of these major tasks.

For the record, I just made a dentist and an orthopedist appointment for next week (!!!). After the orthopedist visit, I can call up Geico and try to harass the adjuster into a quick settlement. At this point, I just want to have the thing over and done with. So, at least this blog has helped me to accomplish those things!

Er, sorry to put you through all that : /

It's Friday, I'm in Love

2007-12-20T07:57:00.001-08:00

Well, it's almost Friday. It's Thursday, and the song is on my internet radio. Speaking of, did you hear about the kid in England or somewhere whose parents named him "Friday," and the government put a stop to it and forced them to name him "Gregory"? Pretty crazy, eh?? It makes me wonder why the government didn't stop my mother when she named me, all doped up on demerol. Truly, I like my name, but it's a pain in the ass sometimes. Particularly when it comes to my last name. Also speaking of names, I just read a story about a woman whose name is Mary and who married John Christmas, so now her name is "Mary Christmas"! Ha.

I got my first TEFL book in yesterday, and it is a whopper. I'm going to try to call up the old college spirits of attention span so that I can actually not fall asleep every time I try to read the thing. I am betting, though, that the material is going to be more riveting than one might expect. There's a dvd that came with the book, so if all else fails I can try to engage with that. Updates to come on any new language teaching tidbits that interest me! (Boy, aren't you thrilled?!)

Highest Point or State; Culmination

2007-12-18T08:24:00.001-08:00

I seem to have reached the zenith of my anticipation, and now I'm experiencing a feeling like the calm before the storm. I feel relatively tranquil and sated with the knowledge that the major pieces of my journey are in place (although I do still have to finish paying my ViaLingua course fees and reserve my room at the hostal). I've stopped really worrying about whether my Spanish will be good enough, whether I will feel ridiculously overwhelmed by homesickness or lack of familiar faces and voices, whether I will be deported (hahaha). I'm banking on an adventure, and using that metaphor helps me in this inexplainable way to anticipate the ups and downs, to keep as objective an outlook on my trip as I possibly can (which of course is easier to do when you're not there yet).

Anyway. I feel a lull in my need to constantly seek out new information about Spain. Don't get me wrong - I'm still reading my Andalucia guide every day, and I've still got a good documentary film coming in every few days. But this is a much-needed lull. It's giving me a sort of confidence that I didn't have before when I was scrambling for every bit of information I could get my hands on. Now I just hope I don't get overwhelmed by all the books and travel gear I asked my parents to get me for Christmas!

On that same note, I've been waiting so long for the "textbook" that I bought for my TEFL course to get here from Amazon that I'm worried now that I've lost my appetite for it. It's a huge book and it cost like $50, so I damned well hope I'm ready to soak it all up by the time Christmas is over.

On a less related note to the Spain trip, I read some poetry yesterday by my old poetry professor at UNT, and it awakened something in me like reading poetry always does. I'd read Bruce Bond's work before, and I had always revered him in this ridiculous way because he studied with Ginsberg, but for some reason yesterday I completely got his writing like I never had before. It made me remember all the critiques and the suggestions he'd provided me for my best work, and it made me hope that perhaps something I had done as one of his students, something I had said might have inspired him or contributed to the work he's put out into the world. I remember once I heard from someone, a friend or fellow student, after finals one semester that Bruce Bond had gone for a beer with another of my professors from the English department, and my friend or fellow student had overheard the profs discussing me and my work/poetry. In general terms, I think what was said was good, but it surprised me how much what they thought mattered to me as a student. It makes me think and hope that my own praise or admiration of my future students will affect them the same way.

I want to write a poem. Several, in fact. I'm going to start cataloging interesting ideas. More on that later.

the backpack

2007-12-12T09:41:00.000-08:00

It just arrived today, my very own Women's Deuter Futura 50+10 Vario Trekking Backpack! I bought it on ebay for a steal, brand new with tags and all - and it matches my lavendar luggage set, to boot. I'm totally stoked.

Now if only I could open it up at work and fill it with files and walk around the office with it all day...that wouldn't seem suspicious, would it??

The flight plan

2007-12-11T11:36:00.000-08:00

Monday March 10, 2008
British Airways Flight Number: 2026
Depart: George Bush Intercont, TX 8:30 Pm March 10, 2008
Arrive: London Gatwick, United Kingdom 10:25 Am March 11, 2008
Total Flight Time: 8 Hours 55 Minutes Non-Stop
Equipment: Boeing 777
Meal Service: Yes

Tuesday March 11, 2008
British Airways Flight Number: 2466
Class of Service:Coach Class S
Depart: London Gatwick, United Kingdom 2:10 Pm March 11, 2008
Arrive: Madrid, Spain 5:30 Pm March 11, 2008
Total Flight Time: 2 Hours 20 Minutes Non-Stop
Equipment: Boeing 737-400
Meal Service: Snack

Total Cost (in case you're curious): $734.60/Round-trip

What a great birthday present, eh?? I will be crossing the Atlantic on the very eve of my 26th birthday. My friend Matt, whose birthday is also March 10, will be at my side. We will leave NOLA on the Friday (3/7) before the flight, to drive to Houston and spend time with my parents and my bff, Lauren (whose birthday is ALSO March 10 - strange, isn't it?? It's like our own little holiday!), who will hopefully drive down from Denton.

My basic itinerary:
We will land in Madrid and spend 1 day there. I will 1) eat paella, 2) drink a Spanish mojito, and 3) see Guernica at Reina Sofia, and perhaps 4) stroll in the parque de buen retiro. Then, we will head by bus or train to Granada to get acclimated, spend 1 night there and find a place to stash my larger luggage items for a few days before hopping another bus or train south to Malaga, Ronda and then Tarifa. At Tarifa, we will camp on the beach, eat pulpo and calamares and drink sherry, then take a ferry to Tangier, Morocco, where I want to spend just a day and maybe ride a camel, but Matt wants to stay the night (I will see how I feel about this, if we can find a place outside of the tourist danger zone). I also want to do some street shopping for souvenirs, but with only a backpack to carry stuff in, it may be difficult to buy much. After returning from Morocco to Tarifa, we will head back up the southern coast, hopefully seeing some good Flamenco on the way, making our way back to Granada for Semana Santa.

After Semana Santa, I will settle in and meet my ViaLingua peeps, get ready for studies and six full months in SPAIN!!!!

Triple Dragon, Happy Family

2007-11-27T14:37:00.000-08:00

Maybe I'm a bit of a natural mystic, or maybe it's a leftover symptom of having dated a turbo hippie (thanks, Hippie Matt), but from time to time I like to read my horoscope (or sometimes a fortune cookie...), and I always find myself taken aback when it rings just a bit true.

Here's the connection: I have been feeling a bit burnt out from all the preparing, Spanish studying, worrying, etc., that lately I haven't felt like doing anything. And of course that scares me because I only have three months until Granada, and you know me - I am a worrier (much as I hate to admit it). Anyway, I feel lazy and burnt out but at the same time guilty for those feelings, like I should be doing something productive at every waking hour.

But I think my horoscope is telling me to call my friends. To have some long-needed conversations and to ask all of my friends who have travelled abroad about their experiences. I want to take those stories with me. I think that will be a happy combination of my burn out with my need to feel prepared. I can relax and just focus on my relationships with the ppl I love and at the same time feel a little less alone in what I'm about to do (see earlier post from today).

Now as for that "Let the kid in you out" part...I don't have an effing clue!

Lacking Inspiration

2007-11-27T07:29:00.000-08:00

It's 9:30 in the morning on a Tuesday, and I'm here at work and have gotten absolutely nothing done. I have to be honest about that at this juncture - I really find it difficult to give a damn about the job I am doing here, because it won't really matter once I leave in March. It's tough for me to acknowledge this. I need this job to get me through to March, to allow me to save enough money to get there. So you'd think I could muster up a little bit of determination to get things done around here. Yet it feels so meaningless to be doing a job just for the money, and it's odd that this is a job I once cared a good deal about.

This morning, I read my friend Ann's blog for a little bit, and I read one poingnant story about how she was frustrated and felt isolated and broken there in Granada. And I'm thinking about how all the sad stuff she sometimes writes about her time in Spain will hopefully allow me in some way to pull the determined adventurer out of my heart and to be absolutely sure that I have a thick skin when I leave for Spain in March. But in all honesty, hearing stories like that...albeit good for me in the sense that they prepare me for any false expectations...is very frightening and humbling. Fear and humility being emotions that already come naturally to me, I'm not sure what to think. I've said this to several of my friends already, but lately I'm trying to balance my preparations for Spain with as realistic as possible a view of what I'm preparing myself for.

My fear and anxiety are mixing with my excitement, and I have to assume that's a natural thing at this point. But it's funny how alone I already feel in this whole experience. No one in my life really knows what this is like. Not even those closest to me.

Terms of Venery

2007-11-15T08:00:00.001-08:00

I have begun my new quest for grammar nourishment. I am back in my niche and absolutely loving it. I have rediscovered collective nouns - among them, terms of venery - and am learning the ways to teach non-native English speakers the grammar rules behind "the big black curtain" that is the key to understanding the English language.

Did you know there are possessive adjectives?! I personally scoff at this term, but it's interesting that there are ppl out there (a.k.a. my future TEFL instructors and possibly all Brits!) who believe it to be accurate enough to define a certain class of words. Honestly, aren't there enough cross-term definitions floating around out there to confuse us all?! I nearly had a heart attack when I was reviewing the pre-course "grammar tasks" from ViaLingua on the bus today and came across that term: possessive adjectives. What the hell?! Why don't I know what that is?! I thought. Come to find out, Bah! They're frickin' PRONOUNS, you idiots. If you absolutely have to get fancy, call them determiners. End of argument.

Anyway, a lot has happened since my last blog:

I added the international calls option to my Sprint plan for $4/month but have yet to find a convenient time to call ViaLingua in Spain (they are 7 hours ahead). I decided, instead of waking up at the crack of dawn to call, to email my questions about visas and accommodation to Vince, the guy I'd been talking to from ViaLingua. So, the guy responds about a week after I email him to say (and I quote), "You're asking all the right questions. Sorry, I don't know the answers...."

!!!!

Infuriating. I swear to god, every response from these ppl came straight from the website information, which of course, being the nerd that I am, I have read numerous times, cover-to-cover. So, I followed the sparse advice that Vince gave me, which led me nowhere except to an online search engine reservoir of dead-end links and pyramid schemes, and I then decided to email someone else. This time, it was Roberta, and I think my complaining did the trick. I told her it seemed like their email responses were stock answers copy/pasted off of the website, which was paradoxical because the website instructs you to "email someone for more details." Well, I wasn't getting "more details." Roberta apologized for the lack of personal attention and realized, whoops! I hadn't even been sent any of the pre-course information, directions to the school, etcetera that I should have. Way-to-go, Vince. I don't know what that dude does around there, but I'm not exactly thrilled to find out. His title is something like "Director of Operations" or something, and that is a scary thought.

So, a few snags thus far, not to mention the major disappointments about the VISA issue. It looks as if I'll be in Spain illegally, after my 90-days allowed by the tourist visa are up. That means working illegally, as well as eating, sleeping and breathing illegally. Terrifying, in a country I've never been to let alone lived in. So I'm not stoked about that. I have to set up an appointment with the Consulate General of Spain (if I can get one) to see what my options are, if any. This has to be possible, right?! There have to be ppl out there with my situation, right?!? Where are they? And how do I get their phone numbers?!

And on to my daily plane ticket searches. Prices are dropping, as a few ppl informed me they would, so that is good news. It's like riding the stock market, highs and lows, and my emotions rise and fall with each passing dollar sign I see in my inbox every day. "Buy! Buy! Buy!" my heart is screaming. God, I am a bigger nerd than I let on.

So far, the cheapest deal I have come by is this round-trip fare combo:

MSY to JFK - $114.40 on JetBlue

JFK to MAD - $536 on BritishAir

TOTAL: $650.40

Not too shabby, eh? It's going to require some logistics magic, working in time to switch planes, grab my checked bags and go through customs, then re-check my bags and get on the plane, but I think 3 hours oughtta do the trick. To top it all off, my friend, Matt, is flying with me, so I have to coordinate his ticket with mine and arrange for his return flight separate from mine. A bit more trouble than I'd have to deal with if I were flying alone, but WAY WORTH the effort to have someone I know and trust accompany me on my big move. I am eternally grateful that he is doing this for me.

Well, now it's on to discover the three main features of a non-count (a.k.a. mass) noun. Yippee!!

Catching up (despite the huge time difference)

2007-11-05T13:23:00.000-08:00

This one has to be brief, as I am completely swamped at work and have no business writing this. Just wanted to make a quick mention of how GOD AWFUL it was just to add the GD international calling function to my GD cell phone plan. It's like they seriously want to make it more DIFFICULT for me to give them MORE money! God I hate cell phone companies.

Anyway, at least that's dealt with and now all I have to do is pay the $4 monthly fee (to be cancelled at any time, by me) plus $.26/minute charges to Granada and the rest of Spain. Not too bad, really. I just have to be speedy about my calls to ViaLingua. Also of note, Granada is SEVEN hours ahead of New Orleans time, so in the future you'll know you have to call between 01:00 and 13:00 to be considered polite. I will have to wake up extra early one day this week to call so I won't be overheard by anyone at work.

In other Spain-related news, I just picked up Living Abroad in Spain by the lovely Nikki Weinstein, a former New Yorker who moved to Spain and wrote this book about the experience for other Americans considering the big move. I heard about the book from my LSMSA school junior, Ann, who's over in Granada now and will be there when I get there in March. I'm on page 13 right now, going through a 4-page synopsis of the history of Spain (can you imagine how someone could cram such a long history into 4 pages?!?), with which I'm already largely familar by now. I will let you know if I find any good tidbits of interest. Between reading an hour or so at night, after my daily bike rides, and reading to and from work on the bus (and on lunch breaks), I should be finished with this baby in a few weeks.

I really hope there's info in there on visa regulations...my mind is completely wrapped up in Spanish red tape at this point.

Oh and also about the book - I was eating lunch and had it lying next to me, ready for me to take outside with me once I was done eating. Another paralegal came into the lunch room and (of course) noticed the book and asked if I was going to Spain. I turned pale (I felt like I did) and sputtered out a random lie about just being interested in travel books and how I got this one at the library because I was bored. I feel so totally sneaky, lying to everyone at work. It sucks, but when it's tough, I repeat my daily mantra: CYA, baby. CYA.

Pregnant Dream

2007-10-30T13:32:00.001-07:00

It felt like I was dreaming the entire night, but I bet it was just for an hour or so because not much really happened, action-wise.

I'm hanging out with my friend Matt somewhere, when all of a sudden I get these strange stomach pains and tell him we'd better head to the hospital now. It is at this point that I notice I have a 9-months pregnant belly in front of me, the cause of said "stomach" pain. I call my mother while we are driving to the hospital and ask her, when you start to go into labor, if it's your actual vagina that hurts or just your general stomach area. She assures me it's the vagina, so I stop worrying a little.

We get to the hospital, and I have to wait out in this long corridor on a stretcher until I'm either ready to have the baby or until we realize it's a false alarm. I reach down and touch my big belly and feel a solid hard mass inside of it that is not a part of my own body (this was the weirdest part...very vivid). I think to myself as I touch it that this hard mass is going to become a little person. I try to rouse myself with some semblance of excitement about this fact, but at the time it just makes me feel tired and a bit confused.

I have the understanding this entire time that Matt is not the father of this child, and neither is any other male I know. The father isn't really in question, it is just sortof accepted that I am doing this alone (key word here, m'dears).

So then my girl friends, Laura and Audra, show up to say "hey," and they don't ask how I'm feeling or anything at all about my impending labor and child bearing situation. They talk about shopping and random little stories of things that had happened recently, and then say they have to go meet someone for something. This upsets me greatly and I have this sinking feeling in my stomach that I'm all alone, no one cares about what's going on in my life and I feel completely left out because of this stomach mass that I feel completely unattached to. I try again to feel communion with the mass; no such luck.

So then Ian shows up, and he's got the same lackadaisical attitude about my whole situation, and I cry to him about the girls while he treats me in a patronizing way and keeps looking at the nurses to help him or something.

Then my alarm goes off.

SO, analyzing the above dream brings me to several (possible) conclusions:
1) I am "pregnant" with some sort of emotion and feeling disconnected as a result of it;
2) This emotion is most likely my impending move to Spain and my anxieties and doubts about it;
3) I am having trust issues with my girl friends; and
4) My b/f does not understand me emotionally.

Pretty clean-cut, if you ask me. And I didn't even need a 3rd party to figure it out! I guess I have some issues to work on in the next few months (as if I don't already have TONS to get done by March 2008).

Plan Ahead...

2007-10-29T13:57:00.000-07:00

I thought it apropo to launch my first blog experience with the very fortune which necessitated it (and its title, of course). I actually found this baby in a fortune cookie about 3 weeks ago, and it made my heart hurt (in a good way). I hope you all are as ready as I am for the next five months of preparation and the adventures and follies that are sure to follow. I am, after all, officially locked in now with ViaLingua.

I made my down payment on the TEFL course on Friday, October 19, 2007 (for posterity's sake). We are at (officially) five months, and counting!

Welcome to my blog.

*gracious bow*