My Visit to Pilas

Last Friday, after a solid two and a half months back in Seville (I cannot believe it’s been that long), I finally made my first visit to Pilas. For my new readers, if there are any, Pilas is the town that I taught in last year. I worked at a primary school there that I would do anything to be able to teach at again but the Spanish government had other plans for me, so lo and behold here I am, as you know, in Utrera.

Anyway, I woke up Friday morning and caught the bus to Pilas from Sevilla, something I rarely did last year because I got a ride to school everyday from teacher Ismael. There is only one bus that goes to Pilas, and leaves about every 2-3 hours. Since Friday is normally my day of rest after my exhausting four-day week (give me some credit, they are 14 hour days), I didn’t want to wake up for the 9 o’clock bus. Also, if I was going to go that early I might as well have gone with Ismael, he leaves only half an hour earlier. Boring details aside, I rode the 45-minute bus from Sevilla to Pilas and as soon as I stepped off, I felt like I had stepped into a time warp.

Although it had only been four months since the last time I was there, it felt like forever. And walking down the street towards the school, I had butterflies in my stomach that I remember having the first day I went to work there. I’m assuming this time it was excitement more than nerves; nonetheless it was the same exact feeling. As I approached the building, I turned off my iPod and I could hear the sound of the children in physical education class playing on the patio. It was a beautiful sunny day; in fact I think I was in just a t-shirt most of the day. The birds were chirping, and I could smell the factories crushing recently grown olives into fresh olive oil (that last part I made up, but I wanted to give the whole sensual experience, and it probably was happening nearby, although I actually couldn’t smell it!).

I (actually the bus schedule) timed my visit so that I would arrive just as recreo (recess) was starting. I figured that would be the best way to see all the teachers and children I wanted to see all at the same time. I walked to the front of the school and there was some construction happening in the entranceway. Initially, I was a little confused, even concerned, that I wouldn’t be able to enter the building. In retrospect that doesn’t make any sense, of course even with construction happening, people can enter and exit the building!

So, I waited for a little while in the front of the school, and after about 5 minutes another man came to the gate, opened it, and walked right through the construction into the school, so I followed his lead. The first person I came across was the secretary, who had no idea I was coming to school, not even sure she knew I was back in Spain. She gave me a big hug and kiss and we talked, and she offered me an orange, which is so typical…my memories of her all involve her eating some sort of fruit. But once the recess bell rang, all the children came running into the halls, bocadillos and batidos in hand.

From the moment the first kid saw me, the hugs and kisses didn’t end. It was a great feeling; honestly I was a little worried some of the kids weren’t going to remember me. Boy was I wrong. They were so excited to see me, as I was to see them. It kind of reminded me of when I come home at the end of a long day and my dogs are wagging their tails and chasing each other in circles because they are so excited to see me (or any human).

The half an hour recreo seemed like it finished in 5 minutes, as did the rest of the afternoon. My favorite class from last year begged me to come back with them after recreo, so I said I would. I wanted to keep my promise, but I also wanted to spend some time with my other students and co-workers from last year. I went with teacher Fran who is now teaching first grade (taught second last year), and he introduced me to his new babies…then I was going to visit his class from last year (my favorite) and I ran into teacher Elena in the teachers' lounge. She was having her speaking hour with the new auxiliar, the new me. The girl Chelsea is very nice, and I am extremely jealous of her. They invited me to sit down and chat with them for a while, so I stayed there not realizing how quickly the time was passing. I wanted to visit my class from last year while they were in English class, but before I knew it that 30 minute class was over, and they were now in art class. The art teacher is new, and not part of the bilingual team, but she was nice and let me stay with the class anyway.

After 30 minutes there, I said I had to leave so I could go visit other classes. Upon hearing “me voy”, the kids sprang up from their chairs and ran to the door to form a blockade. Now they may only be 8 years old, but a blockade of 15 eight-year-olds is not an easy one to get through. They were tugging at my clothes and telling me that I was not allowed to leave, ever, that I had to stay in Pilas, forever. They were so confused why I wasn’t back with them this year, obviously eight year olds don’t understand the concept of the government telling you where you have to work, I hardly understand it. They said it’s okay that I’m not with them this year as long as I come back next year…gonna be a hard task to accomplish.

Going back to the school made me realize/remember why I loved it so much. I was super attached to the kids I worked with, and my coworkers weren’t so bad…This year, I see each of my students for two hours a week and that’s eat. It’s hard to form a relationship with kids when you only see them twice a week. I mean last year I was only at the school three days a week, and even though I was probably with each classe only an hour and a half a week, I saw them in the hallways, I saw them at recreo, when they arrived in the morning and when they left in the afternoon. There was much more time to connect with them and grow attached. This year, I am struggling to form that same relationship with my students. But I think it’s just the nature of the job.

Although I am sad that I’m not at the school in Pilas again this year, I am extremely grateful that I had the opportunity to work there in the first place.  

Thanksgiving

 

el día de acción de gracias

Today marks the fourth Thanksgiving of the past six that I have been out of the country, more specifically, in Spain. I should be used to it by now, and to a certain extent, I am. But that doesn’t mean that when I woke up this morning I didn’t wish I could crawl into bed with my sister and watch the Thanksgiving Day parade. That doesn’t mean I don’t wish I were gathering together with my family at some point this afternoon to stuff ourselves silly with turkey and pumpkin pie, and then maybe watch some football.

Although today is a very difficult day for me to be away from home, I still appreciate the significance of the day. Even though it is not a holiday here, I think it should be observed and people should all take a step back to recognize and appreciate the things they have and are grateful for. After all that’s what thanksgiving is really about, not just eating so much food that you think you may never eat again!

I am extremely grateful for my family and friends, especially for all the support and help they have given me throughout my experiences abroad. I am also grateful for the opportunities I have been given so far in my life; the fact that I am able to spend so much time living and learning in another country is not something I take for granted. 

So I wish a Happy Thanksgiving to all, Americans and not, but especially to those of you who are spending the holiday out of the patria…And for those in the States, eat an extra helping of stuffing for me!

Small Town Living, Sort of

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I now have lots of time to think and blog in the middle of the day...so this post is a little longer than usual..stick with me!
 

A couple of weeks ago I began giving morning classes twice a week to the babies in the academy. And when I say babies, I mean infants that can hardly speak Spanish yet. I think the youngest one is younger than one year, nine months or something absurdly young like that. So, I have the thrilling task of teaching these non-Spanish speaking tots how to speak English aka make sounds that sound something like English words. As a result of this new undertaking, I now spend the entire day in the budding metropolis that is (NOT) Utrera.

As pueblos go, Utrera is not too small, 51,630 inhabitants, according to the ever so reliable Wikipedia, so really it’s more like a small city. Despite this enormous population, Utrera has a very small town feel. I am so fortunate to be able to spend three days a week here, so I can really learn what small town life is all about, and more importantly, so I can be grateful that I live in Sevilla. 

It is a beautiful pueblo..that I cannot deny.

Coming from a suburb of NYC, which in fact has fewer inhabitants than Utrera, but living a lot of my life in the city with over 8 million people, I notice a lot of differences in the lifestyle. In general, Spain is much more relaxed than what I am used to, but life in the pueblo is even more tranquilo.

For example, I finish my morning classes at 1pm (yes, although Post meridiem 1 o’clock is still considered the morning in Spain) and I don’t begin again in the afternoon until 4:15 or 4:30, depending on the day. In NYC, 3 hours to kill is no problem at all. Sometimes just to get from one point to another can take 45 minutes or more. But it isn’t really fair to compare Utrera to the largest (and best) city in the world. So I won’t. But even in my little pueblo of Scarsdale, I could go shopping, see a movie, go to the library, sit in a café…and easily pass the three hours.

Well, here in Utrera, it’s quite a different story. I was ecstatic last week when I found out there was a library and I figured out how to get there (for some reason, street sign seem to be optional (sparse) in the south of Spain). I sat down at one of the study tables around 1:15, preparing myself to settle in there for the next couple of hours. I brought my computer so I could use the wifi, I brought my nook to read, some papers to correct, and my class books to make lesson plans. The time was flying by; I thought maybe the whole spending the afternoon in Utrera thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

However, around 30 minutes after I arrived, I noticed the people around me began to pack up their things and leave. I thought, ok they are going home because no one wants to be in the library at lunchtime (lunch is the most important meal of the day here). About five minutes after that, all the lights were turned off. Weird, I thought. Maybe they were trying to conserve energy? Another five minutes and I hear, “Ya estamos cerrado (We are now closed)” Closed! I knew stores would close for siesta but the library????

So, I had to venture on to bigger and better things. I trekked around the city with my computer and my backpack and all my books until I arrived at a restaurant that looked comfortable and inviting (the only establishments open in the middle of the day are restaurants). The restaurant was an important decision for me because I would be stationed there for the following two hours until it was time to go to work again. And this has now become my routine….

Fast forward two weeks to yesterday…November 14….huelga general en Sevilla (maybe all of Spain?) For those of you who don’t know, huelga means strike. If you ever plan on visiting Spain this is a very important word to know because here it seems like there is a huelga every other week. I know, I should be more sympathetic, there is a creesis here and things are really bad. There are no jobs (unless we keep stores open at mediodía, thus creating more shifts aka JOBS). The price of education has now gone up to a whopping 1,000€ a year (talk to me when its $50,000 a year). Oh and what is that…you still don’t have to pay for healthcare…oh yeah.

Sarcasm aside, things are worse here than they used to be. And in all seriousness, I realize when you spend your whole life used to one thing (free education, free health care, a certain salary) it is hard when there is even a slight change. Someone recently drew my attention to a New York Times article (yes, I do read the articles you email me) about people in Spain that are so desperate as a result of homes/jobs lost, that they have resorted to dumpster diving in order to have food to eat, and other essentials items to live. At first glance I thought, this is an exaggeration and an awful portrayal of the situation here. Imagine my surprise when one day, I actually saw a woman jump into a dumpster to collect things from inside. It broke my heart…

Anyway, I almost forgot there was a point to what I was saying. So today, huelga general, except for Joanna and all my coworkers at New England Academy, the small city-town Utrera, has even less to offer me. The library is closed; many restaurants and stores are closed. Luckily, the Cuban (?) restaurant (they say its Cuban/Mexican but the food is 100% Spanish) where I have eaten lunch for the past three days I’ve worked, is open. And there I am, eating my Spanish food cooked by Cubans perhaps. For the first time, I am in the company of other diners, remember no one is working because they are on strike, but I don’t think many people in Utrera are actually striking (protesting in front of government buildings etc). Upon my return to Sevilla last night, there were signs that protests had occurred, flyers everywhere and garbage bags filled with empty beer and alcohol bottles piled high.

Pues, c’est la vie en España…

For anyone who actually read my entire rant, thank you. For those of you who skipped right to the bottom, I completely understand.

Lost in Lisbon

Note*

I am inaccurately calling this post Lost in Lisbon, we were not actually lost most of the time. Of course, there were moments when we were wandering around in circles, but mostly that was on purpose; we were exploring Lisbon, rather than getting lost. However, I like the alliteration so I’m sticking with my title.

Halloween weekend was a Puente (long weekend) in Spain. Instead of celebrating Halloween (officially it’s not a holiday but kids are starting now to dress up and go trick or treating), Spain celebrates the day after, the Day of the Dead. In all honesty, I’m not exactly sure what that is a celebration of; I suppose it is to honor the dead. But here in Spain, it seems more like it is an excuse to have a day off. I could be totally wrong, so Spaniards reading this, don’t be offended.

So, to aprovechar (take advantage of…sounds way better in Spanish) the long weekend, Samantha and I took the overnight bus from Sevilla to Lisbon on Wednesday (Halloween) night. The bus left at midnight, and arrived at 6:30 the next morning. We decided on that bus so that we would have the most time possible to see Lisbon. Well, not surprisingly, as soon as we got to our hostel, we slept for almost the entire day. For those of you who have been on a 6+ hour bus ride before, you understand our need to sleep in an actual bed...Imagine sleeping on an airplane (you are pretty uncomfortable, right?). Well now take that image and add less comfortable seats and the sensation of feeling every turn the bus/plane makes, plus not having heat or blankets…now you are really uncomfortable. And so were we on the bus..ergo, our decision to sleep more!

It was just the two of us on the bus from Sevilla, but we met two of Samantha’s friends from school at the hostel. In fact, the whole trip was their idea. Her two friends, Laura and Julia, are twins who are currently teaching English in a pueblo in Granada. I had met them earlier in the year because they were in Sevilla for two weeks for an orientation, so it was great to see them again.

After the twins arrived, and Samantha and I woke up from our “nap”, the four of us went out for dinner. Since I was feeling a little sick I didn’t join in on the partying that night, but there was more of that to come in the following days.

The four of us atop Castelo de Sao Jorge

We spent all day Friday and Saturday exploring Lisbon…visiting a beautiful cathedral, an old fortress, a castle, a monastery and more! We watched and listened to Fado (typical Portuguese music), we ate and drank typical Portuguese food and drink.

Above: Said beautiful Cathedral  

Below: Beautiful stained-glass window inside said beautful cathedral

Fado music

On Sunday, although we still hadn’t seen all of Lisbon, we decided to go to Sintra, a town approximately 45 minutes outside of Lisbon. And boy am I happy we did that. Sintra is a little town in the mountains, and it looks like it was pulled straight from a fairytale. The roads are windy, there are trees (enchanted forests) everywhere. There is a big fortress/castle at the top of the hill. Around every corner there is a view more beautiful than the next, a view that looks like a page from Snow White or Cinderella.

One of the breathtaking views

Cinderella's Castle

Unfortunately, it was cold and gloomy, making it feel even more like a fairytale in my mind, but made it uncomfortable to be outside for too long/made it difficult for my pictures to capture the true beauty of the town.

En fin, I highly recommend to anyone who has not been to Lisbon to put it high up on the list of places to visit, up there with Prague. Seriously, go! I’m so glad I did. 

photos don't lie

look how pretty!