¡Mira, es una bruja!

Today was Halloween at school. Today was also the second time in my Spanish life that someone has pointed at me and said “mira, es una bruja” (look, it’s a witch). The first time was during my semester in madrid. After a night of dancing, when we finally left the club I was wobbling a little in my heels. I am not very good at wearing heels in the first place; I am especially not good at dancing in heels. So I guess someone thought I was walking like a witch and exclaimed to their friend, look it’s a witch!

Well today the incident was a little more deserved, as I was indeed dressed like a witch. At school one of the teachers painted my face. She must have done a really good job because the kids hardly recognized me. I also know she did a good job because I could not get the paint off without washing my face about ten times.

Anyway, as I was walking home from the spot that I get dropped off at in Triana (the part of town I live in), a lot of people were staring at me because my face was painted and I was wearing a witch hat. People definitely know that today is Halloween, but outside of a few primary schools, that doesn’t really mean anything here. So I can understand why some people would think it’s strange to see a witch walking down the streets. I knew I was in for a treat on my walk home because on my walk to the bus this morning I got a lot of looks. And all I was wearing was black pants and shirt, orange and black striped socks and black boots. I hadn’t even put on my flashing pumpkin earrings yet!!

All in all, today was a fun day. A lot of the kids dressed up, of course as either a witch, a vampire or a skeleton (see previous post). We did a little trick or treating (kids say trick or treat, teachers hand out candy), and I had some spider rings and plastic bats that the kids loved. I don’t know why some people don’t like the holiday here, apparently there was a parent who complained about the school celebrating Halloween. But I’m happy we did.

Now time to celebrate Halloween with the big kids…HAPPY HALLOWEEN a todos!

h-a-double l-o-double u- double e-n...spells halloween

Although Halloween isn’t actually a holiday here in Spain, some Sevillanos have come to take it quite seriously. For the past week, I have seen kids dressed up as witches, vampires and skeletons (because of course those are the only 3 acceptable costumes). It is interesting how different people react to the incorporation of this American holiday in spanish culture. At my school for example, I have been carving pumpkins everyday for the past week, and we have been preparing for a Halloween celebration tomorrow. Some of my friends are working at schools that aren’t doing anything to recognize Halloween. I am personally happy that I can share this American tradition with my school, but by the time I got to carve my sixth (and best) pumpkin, I got a little tired of the classic Halloween activity.

After carving 6 pumpkins you can only imagine how many pumpkin seeds I have. Since the majority of people in Pilas have never carved a pumpkin before, I assume they haven’t eaten roasted pumpkin seeds, although pipas (sunflower seeds) are almost as important as beer here. So I took it upon myself to cook these pumpkin seeds I myself scooped out of each pumpkin. Now normally this would not be an incredibly difficult task, but given the fact that my oven only has one setting that turns from hot to extremely hot without any notice, it was more difficult than I was expecting. With the exception of a few seeds however, I’d say the experiment turned out pretty well. Plus I figure if they aren’t the best seeds, the kids don’t really have a point of reference so they will just think they don’t like the taste of pumpkin seeds.

Other than carving and making seeds I have been busy coloring pumpkins, ghosts and haunted houses. I also made some ghost lollipops a la grandma Terri, but not enough to share with everyone so I’m not sure how well that’s going to go over. I have had a lot of fun preparing for tomorrow; it’s fun when there is a holiday or something else specific to focus my attention on.

Tomorrow is Halloween day and I am going to school to celebrate. Some schools decided to take the day off because Tuesday is a holiday here, Día de los Muertos (or difuntos as they call it here). It is typical in Spain to make a long weekend, or Puente, when there is a holiday on a Tuesday or Thursday. My school decided to take the Puente another time, but I’m okay with that. I’m excited to sing Halloween songs and trick or treat around the school. I’m not sure how many more times I can here the skeleton dance before going crazy, it is already stuck in my head all the time, but hopefully tomorrow will be a fun day.

the rain in spain...

isn't very common. but today i experienced my first rain of the season. it was a nice change of pace; i was actually feeling cold for once instead of sweating for most of the day. however, i did not really appreciate the rain this morning during my 15 minute walk to the bus station during which my umbrella decided it was too tired to actually protect me from the rain.

so i spent the whole day pretty wet. one of the teachers asked me why i didn't bring a change of clothes with me. i thought that was a pretty interesting question..the answer that immediately popped into my head was "because im not 5 years old". but it is a good idea now that i think about it..or maybe ill just buy some rain boots.

anyway, seville/spain in general is kinda on mañana time most of the time but when it rains, mañana time seems like speedy gonzalez. My bus was running ten minutes late (my roommate's was 30 mins late so i guess it could have been worse).

By the end of the school day (2 pm) the rain had finished. It went back to the nice sunny weather I have experienced since I got here, except the temperature finally dropped so it was a very pleasant afternoon.

and halloween is in the air. i carved my first pumpkin today (i will be carving a total of 5--one for each bilingual class in the school). tomorrow i go to apply for my foreigner's identity card so i don't get kicked out of the country when my visa expires on december 1. Wish me luck!

A day on the magical island

Yesterday was an adventure filled day for me. After complaining to my boss about being a little bored here in Sevilla—I only work three days a week—he invited me to go to La Isla Mágica with him and his family. This theme park is Sevilla’s version of six flags I suppose, but more for children, which I still kinda consider myself to be. When I got to the entrance of the park where we were meeting, I found his family and eight other extended family members/neighbors too. Spain is a very family oriented society, which is something I really like here. Families typically don’t move around the country, or leave it, and many people raise their kids in the same town or at least province they were raised in. Another thing I love about Spain is how parents dress their children in the same clothes to make it easier to find them in amusement parks (genius!) I know sometimes children in the US are dressed the same but I think its like an every time we leave the house kinda thing here.

We met up at the gate and I was introduced to everyone, at least the people that were over seven years old and not running around in circles with excitement. There were a total of six children (all under the age of seven), 6 parents and one me. And even though I was on kiddy rides most of the day, and watching children’s shows (which are about at my level of Spanish) I really enjoyed myself. Amusement parks are always fun, and it was nice to do something different. It was also a nice change of pace to be around families (although it did make me miss my own a lot!).

Since Halloween is coming up, the park had some special Halloween themed shows and rides. When one of the seven year olds asked me if I was scared, I said yes to make him feel better in case he was too. But I think towards the end of the night, when we were walking through the haunted house, I actually was scared. However, if a three year old could make it through without screaming or crying, I figured I should keep myself composed as well.

At the end of the night, all the kids could hardly keep there eyes open (including me). It was a long day of pirate shows and 4D movies, boat rides and magic shows. I essentially went right to sleep because lacrosse practice was bright and early this morning, 9 AM, on a Sunday. The field is apparently very overbooked because there is another one nearby that is under construction. The captain of the team told me he wasn’t very happy with the practice schedule because 9 AM is “not an hour Spanish people know.” I think I was supposed to be Spanish…

Crises in Camas

I’ve now had two somewhat miserable experiences in this small pueblo just outside of Sevilla. The first time was totally my fault; going to a super store on a Sunday in Spain is a stupid idea. Sundays in huge cities are deserted in Spain, there is no reason a pueblo would be any different. But nonetheless I went to Camas on a nice Sunday afternoon, and saw approximately 3 people the whole 2.5 hours I was there, and did absolutely nothing except search for the bus stop to get back to Sevilla.

Today, I took my second adventure into the wonderful pueblo of Camas. This time I was lured by the possibility of a student to tutor. I received a call from a woman, Marta, who is looking for English lessons for her 8-year-old daughter. I like kids, and to me playing games in English is easier than actually teaching adults grammar, which I’m not so good at myself. So I went.

I went to the bus station where all the out of town buses leave from. I went up to the ticket window to ask the bus company which bus I should take; there are about 10 that pass through Camas since it is right outside the city. He told me “take 18”. Now that sounded kinda fishy to me since all the busses are 3 digit numbers, and the lowest bus number is 141. So I said just to clarify, do you mean track 18? Yes that’s what he meant. I followed up “what bus number?” (just to make sure I was in fact getting on the right bus), he responds “also 18”. Well this friendly, outgoing man (by which I mean cold and unhelpful) was wrong. It was track 18, but as I suspected, not bus number 18. Well whatever, I ended up on the right bus.

Now when I spoke to Marta on the phone, pretty much all that I got from her rapid Spanish directions to her house was that I needed to get off the bus at Mercadona, a supermarket chain. So when I got on the bus I asked the bus driver if he could tell me when to get off. This was the second time I’ve asked a city bus driver to let me know when we are approaching my stop. And this was also the second time a bus driver did not do as they told me they would. Sometimes I really think that people in Seville speak such a different Spanish, they cannot even understand what I mean when I speak textbook Spanish. Luckily, I was skeptical that the bus driver would help me so I looked out the window the whole ride there and knew to get off when I saw the supermarket.

Well I got off and asked a fellow passenger if they could direct me towards calle chamizo, where Marta lives. No idea where that street is, she told me. So I kept walking, using the maps function on my phone to guide me. I’m pretty sure the satellites are on mañana time in Spain also because my phone only updates my location after I’ve reached my destination or gotten myself sufficiently lost. I thought, I’ll just ask the next person I see. Didn’t see anyone for about 3 blocks (not really sure there are people in this town) when I approached an old woman carrying laundry detergent and nothing else. She too, didn’t know of the street but told me to ask the taxi driver a few blocks behind her. The driver had heard of the street and could only point me in the right direction because he wasn’t exactly sure. I walked to where he pointed. After crossing the main street in Camas, I found myself at the bottom of a huge hill. Now I’ve been finding it difficult to navigate Seville, but at least there are street signs on 96% of the streets in the city. Camas sort of decided to skip that courtesy and put approximately 6 street signs in the whole town (exaggeration for dramatic effect).

Finally at the bottom of the San Francisco-esque hill, my phone decided to catch up with me and tell me where I was. And it told me I had to go up. Now I know why the taxi driver didn’t know exactly how to get to calle chamizo. Had he tried to get his car up one of these streets he probably would have rolled right back down. In the end, with the help of my handy dandy, siesta-loving phone, I found my destination.

I don’t look forward to returning to Camas (I don’t even know yet if the family wants me to). It’s been an uphill battle for me, pun (I think) intended, every time I go. And I know its experiences like these that make me grow and learn and become more independent, but I think Camas has helped me enough with that. I’m ready to learn somewhere else!

LAX en Sevilla

This morning I had my first experience with lacrosse in Europe. Since it is just gaining popularity here, there is only a boy’s team in Sevilla, and not a very big one at that. But even though I’m not a boy, and have never played boy’s lacrosse (an entirely different game from girl’s) I went to check it out. And I’m really happy I did. All the guys are really nice and patient with me. They helped me in drills and when I didn’t understand all the Spanish instructions. They did not, however, treat me differently when it came to hitting and checking.

Unfortunately it’s Sunday today and the team decided to practice at 10am, well that’s the timeslot they were given for the field. On a weekday 10am is late, but not on a Sunday, my day of rest (which is actually everyday here because there is nothing to do during siesta). But since I’ve been a little bored here since I started work, I thought it would be good to get out of the house and meet new people, even if it meant waking up at 8:30 on Sunday.

I took the metro a couple stops outside of the city to a town called Tomares. There the captain of the team, Javi, picked my up and brought me to the practice field. I was assuming it would be extremely awkward and uncomfortable to be picked up by a complete stranger and taken to practice a sport that I don’t really play in another language. But something I’ve learned from being abroad and away from home so much is let the awkward times roll. Nothing good ever comes from staying inside a comfort zone, except comfort I suppose.

Anyway, once I got to the field with Javi, he started taking out big body bag-esque bags. It hit me just then that guys play with pads. Obviously this wasn’t news to me but there I was with my little stick bag which I am thankful contained a stick stringed for guys lacrosse (good idea Barry!), and the guys start arriving and pulling huge bags out of their trunks. I must have looked a little intimidated or something because Javi said to me no te preocupe, no pasa nada, tenemos protecciones para ti. I love (and sometimes hate) how in Spain, no matter what happens, no pasa nada. It really is a great motto to live by, except if you are trying to live in the U.S. where no one would appreciate that attitude.

So we walked to the field where there were people playing soccer, and a few games of paddle, a new sport (to me) that everyone here is always talking about. We chit chatted for a while, well mostly the guys chatted and I listened attentively trying to understand what they were saying. It still surprises me after a month how fast the Sevillanos speak. I know Spanish fairly well but sometimes I think they are just speaking a martian language. I catch a few words now and then but it is really quite difficult to carry on a conversation, unless the person talking to you knows you are foreign and converses with you as if you were 5 years old. Pero bueno, I don’t mind pretending to be 5 as long as I can practice my Spanish.

After enough people arrived to start the practice (if you’re late in Spain, no pasa nada) we did some warm-ups. And you know, some things really don’t change from country to country. If you are out of shape and start to practice a sport all of a sudden, the warm-ups are going to be challenging. But luckily I was able to pull the chica card and get away with being slow. Partially it’s just the truth, guys are faster and stronger than girls. But I also can’t deny that my out of shape-ness made me that much slower.

We did our warm-ups and then suited up, a process I am not used to in girl’s lacrosse. I was given a chest protector, gloves, elbow pads and a helmet (things that only goalies wear in girl’s lacrosse) and told to go play. Play lacrosse in 90-degree heat, with all these pads, and a helmet that cuts off all peripheral vision? Okay, I tried. And it proved to be as much of a challenge as I thought it was going to be. But the good news is the drills were more or less the same drills that I am used to doing; at least that wasn’t new to me. And as I said earlier everyone was nice and understanding and I hope it continues that way!

After practice, a couple of guys were going to watch a rugby game, Sevilla versus Alicante I think, and invited me to come with. A few of their girl friends that had been there watching practice (cheerleaders they’re called) also went. I had never seen a rugby game/have nothing to do until work tomorrow, so I went too. And now I understand what people think when they see American football for the first time. Not only are there men throwing themselves on each other and jumping up on people’s shoulders, but there seems to be no rules, except you cannot throw the ball forwards. It just doesn’t make much sense. Even though I had no clue what was going on in the game and in much of the guys’ conversation, I still had fun. They brought liters of cerveza (nothing like a big, cold beer after lacrosse practice) and pipas (sunflower seeds). I felt like I was having an authentic Spanish experience, although by the end of the game I could hardly keep my eyes open.

En fin, I’m really glad I ended up going. Practice is every Sunday, so on weekends I don’t travel I’m pretty sure I will go. I left today relatively unscarred from all the golpes I took, but we’ll see what appears tomorrow. I might have to start working out more to build up enough strength to hit back. For now, a siesta. It’s been a long day.

*please forgive my punctuation. the girls/girl's thing kinda confused me when writing this. guess i've been away from english class too long.

el finde en portugal

This week I took my first trip of the year. Considering how much money I spent I probably wont be taking another one for a while, at least until I get paid. But it was worth it. I went to Lagos, a beautiful beach town on the southern coast of Portugal. Since Portugal is so close, I took a bus. It was a 3 and a half hour ride. The Spanish people think that is muy lejos but for me it’s so close. Its amazing to me to be able to get on a bus and in a little more than 3 hours be in Portugal.

It was kind of a last minute decision this trip. Alejandro and Amy had it planned for a while, but Chelsea and I weren’t signed up until last week. The trip was organized by an organization called Discover Sevilla, which has events and excursions for students/real people living and studying in Sevilla. Since Discover Sevilla mostly caters to study abroad kids, the trip was filled with college juniors. Not saying that’s a bad thing, in fact I was kinda jealous that they are studying abroad aka having the best semester of their lives. No complaints here though, I’m having a pretty awesome time here so far. I wouldn’t mind if the weather would cool down, its supposed to be 94 degrees on Thursday. And for those who aren’t sure, it’s the middle of October. mid 90’s are not meant for October/Joanna without air conditioning.

But Portugal had very nice weather, in fact it was perfect for the beach. On Friday when we arrived, we took a boat tour (“sangria cruise”) to see some cool rock/cave like formations called the grotto (I think, maybe I had too much sangria?). It really was quite amazing to see. All the places we went in Lagos were surreal. Every single corner I turned there was another photo opportunity. We spent basically the whole afternoon on the boat, dancing and swimming and talking and a little drinking. Later we went out to dinner at a place called Nah Nah Bah, which is famous for its one kilo burgers. I don’t know the metric system too well but I know that a burger with one kilo of meat cannot be healthy. While we were there, there was actually someone attempting to eat the €22 kilo burger that if you successfully finish you get for free. Needless to say, this brave individual did not finish the burger, or even half of it, so he had to fork over the €22. But good for him for giving it a shot.

Next day we went to a gorgeous beach called Meia Praia. I’ve concluded that there isn’t much to do in Lagos except go to the beach and see beautiful things, and I am perfectly content with that. All 100 or so of us Americans took over this beach and spent the entire day playing in the water, playing paddle and soccer and volleyball. I spent a fair amount of the day sleeping also. It was so relaxing to be there. The water was cold but not unbearable. Best of all—no sunburns, which is a major feat for me. I knew it was time to leave when hundreds of birds descending on the ocean like it was feeding time and we were their food. No one actually got eaten of course, but it seemed like the birds wanted us out of their way. This isn’t just me being scared of birds, I recall nearly everybody running out of the water when these birds attacked. Luckily, their timing was pretty good because it actually was time to go back to the hotel and get ready to go to the end of the world!

The end of the world, what they actually call it in Portugal except in Portuguese, is a spot where you can see nothing but water in any direction. So in the days of lesser scientific knowledge, people actually believed this was the end of the world. If you made it to the end of the ocean, you would just fall off. Silly Portuguese. Nevertheless, this spot is again beautiful. There are cliffs and rocks with waves crashing against them forming cool looking splashes. We went to the spot right as the sun was setting, which I have now watched twice in my life, and its amazing. Its actually kind of strange to watch because one minute its there and then it pretty much just disappears, I mean falls of the edge of the world.

After watching the sun set, we went out for a typical Portuguese meal, which is pretty similar to a Spanish meal. Since we were in Portugal, Chelsea and I tried a local specialty, a fish called Lica (not sure how its spelled but I know there is a fancy Portuguese accent on it somewhere) pronounced Lisa. We also had a bottle of vinho verde (yep that means green wine) another specialty of the area. It’s really delicious, and tastes something like a mix between white wine and champagne.

Sunday guess what, we went to the beach! There was the option to take a surfing lesson at a beach on the western coast of Portugal, but I decided it would be better for me to save the €35 that would have cost me, even though I think it would be awesome to take a surfing lesson one day. I was perfectly happy though, rolling out of bed and walking down the stairs out of the hotel and onto the beach. We did more of the same: reading, sleeping, swimming. At this beach there were more cool rock formations that have been discovered to be good diving boards. I was pretty excited to jump off these rocks. But since my day didn’t get started until around 12:30, by the time I was ready to go in the water, low tide had made an appearance. For an hour or so I watched people climb up the rock with ease, however when I tried it proved to be a difficult task. There were waves moving me all over the place. In the end, Alex got himself up so he was able to help pull us up. I think I might be sore from the workout I got climbing up the rock. But it was worth it. Jumping off was really fun. I made sure it was because I knew I would not be climbing up that rock again.

At the end of the day we rinsed off at the rooftop pool. Then we loaded the bus to go back to Sevilla. Everyone was pretty wiped from the weekend so it was quiet and I was able to sleep, I can never get enough of that. I pretty much passed out as soon as we got home at 10 or 11pm. As tired as I was today at work, it was all worth it. Lagos is a great little city that I am really happy I was able to see.

el primer día

Yesterday was my first day of work. I had already been to visit the school on Friday, thanks to Monica, the awesome auxiliar who worked in my school two years ago. Basically she has saved my life here so far, shout out to Monica if you are reading this. On Friday, Ismael, the bilingual coordinator, showed me around the school and introduced me to most of the staff. I went around giving dos besos (the typical Spanish way of greeting people) to everyone I met. I forgot almost everyone’s name but it was still nice to meet people, and it made my first day easier.

My school is in a town called Pilas, a suburb of Sevilla. Suburbs here are a little different than they are in the states, at least different than the NYC suburbs. When I say Pilas is a suburb, I mean its really more like a small pueblo. There is a main street and some houses, at least that’s all it looks like to me. And miles of olive and orange trees surround the town. I found out from Ismael that Pilas came about because it was a stopping place for people between the two surrounding towns. It was a place for horses to get some rest and water, before continuing on their way, hence the name pilas, which roughly translates to ‘watering hole’ in English.

On my first day I went to three different bilingual classes and spent about an hour in each. In one classroom there were 5 year olds learning science. Which means they were learning how to say different body parts in English. I watched them point to their arms, and legs, and sometimes their nose when they were asked to point to their ear. But hey, learning another language is hard at age 5. In another class, we discussed the difference between team and individual sports in English, which was a difficult concept for students to grasp, even though the word individual is exactly the same word in Spanish! In the third classroom it was time for math, which is not a bilingual subject, but I did my best to be helpful anyway.

It is interesting how loud children can be when they are speaking their native language, but the minute you ask them to say something in English, it’s like they don’t have tongues. Or if they do open their mouths to speak its so quiet that its impossible to hear what they are saying. So that was an interesting challenge for me yesterday. All in all it was a pretty good first day. The staff all seem really nice and welcoming. It will definitely take some getting used to for me to feel completely comfortable there, and actually remember everyone's name, but I think this is going to be a good experience for me.

I'm excited to see what tomorrow will bring!

closed on sunday

This is the fourth time I have been to Spain. You would think by now I know more about Spanish culture and schedules. I have adjusted to everything being closed from 2-5:30 so los españoles can have their siesta. But apparently I still have a lot to learn.

Yesterday, Sunday, I was woken up by a phone call from the Internet company. Mind you it was 2pm, so it was time to get up. But a phone call from a Spanish speaking, rather Spanish mumbling hombre, talking at a million miles an hour was not the way I envisioned my wake up call. I stumbled out of bed to open the door since I did manage to hear him say “voy arriba” (I’m coming up). Since I had no clue what he actually said, for all I know he introduced himself as a robber and I said sure come on in, I cautiously opened the door and saw that he was wearing a shirt from our internet company, Ono, so I let him in.

The problem with the internet was that we could not connect to the wifi. When I said “no funciona el wee-fee (Spanish pronunciation)”, the man looked at me like I had just stepped out of a UFO. You think explaining technology problems is difficult, I challenge you to try it in Spanish. Regardless, the hombre seemed to know what to do because he proceeded to play with cords for the next hour, while I sat on the couch and entered the password 100 times to see if his jiggling had fixed anything. Finalmente, the hombre moved the router closer to a window and ya, there was wireless. He said do not move this router or you will lose your connection. Seems kinda fishy to me, but what the internet man says, I do. So finally I have wireless!

As a celebration, roommate Chelsea and I went out to find some paella, a dish that is apparently only served at mediodía on the weekends in Sevilla. Julio the landlord told us a good place to find some paella near our piso, and boy was Julio right. It was well worth my two week wait, although I still miss Conchi’s paella.

After stuffing our faces with paella, we needed another activity. So what better to do on a warm Sunday afternoon then venture to a nearby Carrefour (Target impersonator) and buy some things we need around the piso. Without knowing much, except that the Carrefour is located just outside the city in a town called Camas, we walked over to the bus station. Time-4: 45, next bus to Camas- 4:50, seemed too good to be true. A little skeptical of our luck, we asked the bus driver if his bus would stop at the Carrefour, si he said, third stop.

Well in Spain they count differently than in the US. The first floor of a building in Spain is floor zero. Then what we would consider the second floor is called the first floor. Takes some getting used to but I’ve finally learned to accept it. So when this bus driver says to get off at the third stop, I thought maybe he meant to get off at the American version of the fourth stop. After passing one bus stop where we picked up some passengers, I noticed we were approaching the Carrefour. Could it be the 2^nd stop? I knew for sure the driver said 3^rd. We decided it made more sense to get off at the stop right in front of the store, rather than listen to the bus driver and wait for a third stop. Turns out in Spain, the bus station is the first stop, not the zero stop as I would call it based on the Spanish way of counting floors.

We made the right choice getting off where we did because the Carrefour was only a few steps away. We saw some cars in the parking lot, not too many though. Since it was a Sunday, I wasn’t concerned that there weren’t too many people out shopping, I know the Spanish take their rest very seriously.

As we approached the doors to the Carrefour Planet, we noticed the unmistakable metal planks that signify a store is closed. Next to the door the sign “Abierto lunes a sabado.” Of course it isn’t open on a Sunday, no one would ever think of leaving their homes for a mop or a carton of milk on a Sunday. Well lesson learned, even super stores close on Sunday. Good thing McDonalds was open so we could get some McFlurries to pass the hour and a half we had until the bus back to Sevilla would be at the stop.

After we tried to flag down three buses that drove by, each driver waving his finger to say no I do not stop here, we finally found a bus to take us back to Sevilla. We were not stuck in Camas for the rest of the day, although our two hours there made it seem like we would be there forever.

doce y media

Short post here. Wednesday Sept 28 was move in day. Again 95 degrees. Again carrying our lives around in suitcases. I am nominated to discuss the arrangements of moving in with our landlord Julio. He tells me over the phone the day before move in that we should meet him at the piso with our money and he will give us the keys. Now Julio, like almost everyone else in Sevilla, talks without finishing his words. An ‘s’ at the end of a word is never pronounced in this city, making it very difficult for a foreigner trying to learn Spanish (ME) to understand.

Anyway, Julio said meet me at dos y media, 2:30. On the morning of move in we wake up and go down to a café to get some food before our day begins. At 1pm I get a phone call, and 2 other missed calls, from Julio! I answer the phone worried about what he might have to say to me. “Are you coming?” he says. I said yes in an hour and a half we would be there. He replies that he has been waiting in the apartment for us 30 minutes, since doce y media. So there it is the famous Sevillana slur, getting us into trouble with the landlord on our first day.

The Beginning

Today I finally decided to start my blog. I cannot promise everything will be fascinating, but I know some interesting stories will definitely come with time. Its now Monday, October 3and I have been in Sevilla for two weeks now. There have already some ups and downs: some illnesses, four full days of orientation, grueling heat (with no air conditioning or a/c that smells like sewage). But I’ve met a ton of great people and I’m Sevilla, back in Spain, which you should know I love.

Although it’s been a while now, I’ll try to recount my time here thus far. My journey started in New York, actually New Jersey to be exact, at Newark airport. There I embarked on this scary, exciting, and unique adventure. In the airport, there were a few setbacks with my ticket and my baggage but TAP airlines figured it all out in the end. While I was straightening out some issues with customer service, my mom and sister were creeping on everyone who was checking in for my flight to see if anyone looked like they might also be coming to Spain to teach English. Of course, mom found one who she introduced me to. It was comforting to be waiting with someone else at the gate. And also when we got to Portugal and had to navigate Portuguese customs, it was nice to be with another American. Turns out on our flight was also another CIEE participant and another former participant who loved her year here so much that she was been living here ever since (five years now). So what could have been a miserable transatlantic journey (like what happens when one chooses to fly with American Airlines) turned into quite a pleasant experience. When we arrived in Sevilla we got a shuttle to the hotel, and got to meet a bunch of other ‘auxiliares’ as they call us here in Spain.

Once we all dragged our 3-4 pieces of luggage into the hotel in 95 degree heat, we were tired, exhausted actually from flying through the night and “sleeping” in an airplane seat. However, hunger trumped sleepiness so we got some food at a nearby café and then went back to the hotel and passed out until our CIEE welcome cocktails/dinner. At the cocktail party we played lots of awkward getting to know you games, but as it turns out, it helped me get to know people.

I will not bore anyone with the details of the next four days of orientation. I will just mention that they were filled with important but boring lectures about what to expect over the next year, and instructions on how to get cell phones, bank accounts, and apartments.

Since the apartment hunt was the most entertaining of all these mundane tasks, I will try to explain the experience, but it will probably be impossible to put down in words. At first I really wanted to find a Spanish roommate so that I would be forced to practice my Spanish on a day-to-day basis, but as it turns out that is easier said than done. I spent the entire day Friday, the day after orientation in my bed, so that was a day of apartment hunting gone to waste. But between jetlag and jam packed days from Monday-Thursday, my body didn’t really give me another choice.

Saturday we got up bright and early (at 10AM) went down for the hotel breakfast, where we were left with only the Teach in Spain Sevilla participants, the other auxiliares had left for their destinations earlier that morning. My assigned hotel roommate, Chelsea, and I decided we would search for apartments together. At breakfast we decided to join forces with two other participants, Amy and her boyfriend Alex, who already had a few ideas about where they wanted to look for apartments (called pisos in Spain).

So our search began in a city we barely knew our way around, where the sun was beating from 10am until 10 at night and our Spanish skills proved not to be as competent as we thought they were. We saw one piso where the landlord told us we would have to pay for overnight guests and had to do laundry on an assigned day of the week. It was a beautiful, old Sevillana building, but it was not going to work as our home for the next nine months. Our next move was to literally traverse the entire city, ripping off “se alquila” signs at bus stops, on lampposts and building walls. We split the numbers up and between the three of us called a whole bunch of landlords. Just a word of encouragement for all those of you looking for a place to live in the United States: appreciate the fact that you are talking to English speaking landlord, and you understand what you are agreeing to see and do and when and where.

After a day of delirium of calling every “se alquila” sign in sight, we reached a point where we could no longer search. At the end of the day, we could not hardly walk, so we went straight back to the hotel and passed out. Little did we know that this was the end of our apartment search, as two of the four searchers woke up really sick with some Spanish stomach bug, no fun. So we decided we would all live together in one of the three bedroom pisos we found in Triana. It is a cute little duplex, three bedrooms, two bath, no air conditioning/dishwasher/or clothing dryer. I suppose this is fairly typical of Spanish apartments but now that I am actually cooking for myself and washing my own clothes, I am more distressed than I’ve been in the past by this lack of amenities.