This is a brief city itinerary of my mini tour of Europe after I finish in Algeicras. I'm sure I make you jealous. Sorry I don't have time to give a proper update, I'm busy planning! I'll try to update on the way though.
May
Algeciras 29
Tarifa or Gibraltar? 30
Morocco 31
June
Morocco 1
Morocco 2
Algeciras 3
Sevilla 4
Sevilla 5
Sevilla 6
Salamanca 7
Salamanca 8
San Sebastian 9
San Sebastian 10
Toulouse, France 11
La Châtre, France 12
La Châtre 13
La Châtre 14
La Châtre 15
Paris 16
Paris 17
Hergiswil, Switzerland 18
Hergiswil 19
Hergiswil 20
Hergiswil 21
Charrat, Switzerland 22
Charrat 23
Charrat 24
Charrat 25
Charrat 26
Charrat 27
London 28
London 29 30 1 2
Heidi&Azaret
go home 3
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Christmas Travels in Spain
Let’s see, I suppose I could start in Granada. We had to stay one night there because our flight left so early the next morning. It was a rather cold and rainy day there, but it was pouring when I left Algeciras, so it was an improvement. On of the professors at my school gave me a lift to Granada; he was already going there to pick up his son from college. His son is studying English Translation, I think, but refused to speak to me in English. He was telling his dad about how he and his friends went looking for ghosts at four in the morning. I got to see the inside of the college, which I think Pepe (the professor) told me was founded by “Los Reyes Catolicos.” Compared to American Universities it’s so small, but more impressive.
Right, so I met up with Orquidea and we caught a bus up to the Albaycin, the ancient Moorish neighborhood on the hill across from the Alhambra, where our hostel was located. We dropped off our stuff and proceeded to wander around the Albaycin in circles for a long time, before heading back down to the center of Granada to wander some more and look at some of the shops and Christmas markets that were set up. In a few places they were playing “villancicos,” some in English and some in the traditional Spanish. We also found a Belen (nativity scene). In Spain these are everywhere. Every city puts up a huge and very detailed display. In one we saw in Cadiz, there were actually tiny live fish swimming in a pool and the lights slowly dimmed and relit to magically create day and night. We were with a professor and her daughter at this exhibit in Cadiz, and the little 5 year old was pointing out everything that she saw and we had a hard time prying her away when the exhibit closed.
Oh, I almost forgot we also went to a teteía, a favorite pastime of people (well tourists at least) in Granada. There is a whole street filled with these teteías, decorated in “Moroccan” style, with lanterns and low tables. They make the tea with milk, which at first does not sound very appetizing, but it is very good, and apparently close to chai tea back home, but I don’t think I’ve ever had that. The tea is very good, but the atmosphere is very touristy, though still fun.
We made our way back up through the hills, and I have to note that Orquidea chose the hostel all the way up there, and chatted a bit with the two French-Canadian girls that shared our room with us. The next morning we had to get up so early that a good many people were only just making their way home from the discos, though granted in Spain people sometimes stay up to 7 when the discos close. On the plane we met a girl from Mexico who is studying psychology in Granada, and Orquidea and her chatted for the entire one-hour flight from Granada to Barcelona.
We arrived in Barcelona and were surprised at the sun and the warmth; we had expected it to be cold, being so much further north, but Granada had been much colder. We found the hostel, dropped our bags and headed down Las Ramblas, which took us to the ocean and a huge statue of Christopher Columbus. I can also picture sailing boats in a small harbor, and long stretches of boardwalk along the sea with the sun in the bright blue sky. I dragged Orquidea with me to go to the history museum before it closed. Because of the holidays we had to carefully plan our days around the different schedules. We only had time to see one exhibit, which I only vaguely remember; it was about some war for the crown of Spain. I do like history (though I tried to deny it for a long time), but it tends to get all muddled up in my head, but perhaps I can just blame that on European history and the thousands of battles, wars alliances, and marriages of royalty.
The thing that I remember most about the museum, is that I couldn’t read most of the signs. At the entryway to every room, there were summary signs in English and Spanish, but the majority of the museum was only in Catalan, the traditional language of the region, which resembles a mix between Spanish and French. Bear with me for a very brief history lesson. During the dictatorship of Franco, all other languages spoken in Spain besides Spanish as we know it (Castellano), were forbidden. Now they want to preserve their language, and Catalan is even taught in schools. However, while I was reading the signs I felt as if I had regressed back two years in my ability to read Spanish, because I could only make sense of every third word or so.
That afternoon, after a desperately needed siesta, we wandered around the fancy shopping district with some really expensive stores, that I have no clue about, but Orquidea was trying to teach me. The Christmas lights in the city were beautiful, and of course, instead of “Feliz Navidad,” the greeting is written in Catalan, “Bon Nadal.” Later we decided to go for a tapa, and we saw the beginning of the Madrid verses Barcelona soccer game, which apparently are the two most important soccer teams in Spain. When we left, two men gratefully took our seats, and afterwards all the bars we passed were packed with their TVs tuned to the game. We were hoping for a Barcelona victory so we could see the city celebrate, but we were unlucky.
The next morning we went to a market to buy some fresh fruit and cheese. This one was not the least bit touristy and it was fun to hear the Barcelonans speaking in Catalan, and then easily switching over to speak to us in Spanish. Outside the market, while puzzeling over our map, a little old man stopped to help us. We told him we wanted to go to La Sagrada Familia. He told us that we could walk all year and not get there, and then proceeded to tell us about a Metro that they are trying to build underneath La Sagrada Familia, which might make it fall, and if it falls it will start World War 3. I think he had us there for a good fifteen minutes or so, but he did tell us how to easily get there on the Metro.
We arrived at La Sagrada Familia. A massive church Gaudi worked on for a great part of his life. And when I saw massive I really mean it, because most churches look really big, but with modern buildings surrounding them, they get lost in the skyline, not La Sagrada Familia. But of course they haven’t finished building it yet. Gaudi’s style recalls older architecture, but always with an imaginative twist. We also went to a hospital constructed by another architect, but in the same imaginative modernist style. You feel as if you are in a cartoon, but my pictures of it didn’t turn out well. The sun was so strong in Barcelona that there were always strong shadows on everything I took pictures. Christmas day we also went to the park that Gaudi created: Parque Guell. As you can see from the pictures, we were thrown into another fantasyland. A couple of nights before seeing all of Gaudi’s works, I started reading Alice in Wonderland, that Orquidea lent me. If anyone wants to go to Barcelona to see Gaudi’s works, I recommend this, because both are so imaginative, and I can completely picture Lewis Carroll’s work taking place in Gaudi’s park.
On Christmas, we treated ourselves and went out for Italian food with an Israeli girl from the hostel that we met. In the sorts of hostels that we stayed in you meet people from all over the world, which is one of the attractions of traveling this way. To my knowledge I’d never met anyone from Israel before so it was interesting to learn about her and her country. Sadly we didn’t do anything else more Christmasy, except think about all of our friends and family that we miss.
The next day we wished Barcelona goodbye, but only after we got lost in the Barcelona Metro system. We spent a long time jumping on and off the different lines to find our way to the bus station, because we couldn’t even find a map to consult. However, I did see a book-vending machine, which I thought was the coolest thing ever, until Orquidea told me that they had libraries in the Metro in Hong Kong.
Right, so I met up with Orquidea and we caught a bus up to the Albaycin, the ancient Moorish neighborhood on the hill across from the Alhambra, where our hostel was located. We dropped off our stuff and proceeded to wander around the Albaycin in circles for a long time, before heading back down to the center of Granada to wander some more and look at some of the shops and Christmas markets that were set up. In a few places they were playing “villancicos,” some in English and some in the traditional Spanish. We also found a Belen (nativity scene). In Spain these are everywhere. Every city puts up a huge and very detailed display. In one we saw in Cadiz, there were actually tiny live fish swimming in a pool and the lights slowly dimmed and relit to magically create day and night. We were with a professor and her daughter at this exhibit in Cadiz, and the little 5 year old was pointing out everything that she saw and we had a hard time prying her away when the exhibit closed.
Oh, I almost forgot we also went to a teteía, a favorite pastime of people (well tourists at least) in Granada. There is a whole street filled with these teteías, decorated in “Moroccan” style, with lanterns and low tables. They make the tea with milk, which at first does not sound very appetizing, but it is very good, and apparently close to chai tea back home, but I don’t think I’ve ever had that. The tea is very good, but the atmosphere is very touristy, though still fun.
We made our way back up through the hills, and I have to note that Orquidea chose the hostel all the way up there, and chatted a bit with the two French-Canadian girls that shared our room with us. The next morning we had to get up so early that a good many people were only just making their way home from the discos, though granted in Spain people sometimes stay up to 7 when the discos close. On the plane we met a girl from Mexico who is studying psychology in Granada, and Orquidea and her chatted for the entire one-hour flight from Granada to Barcelona.
We arrived in Barcelona and were surprised at the sun and the warmth; we had expected it to be cold, being so much further north, but Granada had been much colder. We found the hostel, dropped our bags and headed down Las Ramblas, which took us to the ocean and a huge statue of Christopher Columbus. I can also picture sailing boats in a small harbor, and long stretches of boardwalk along the sea with the sun in the bright blue sky. I dragged Orquidea with me to go to the history museum before it closed. Because of the holidays we had to carefully plan our days around the different schedules. We only had time to see one exhibit, which I only vaguely remember; it was about some war for the crown of Spain. I do like history (though I tried to deny it for a long time), but it tends to get all muddled up in my head, but perhaps I can just blame that on European history and the thousands of battles, wars alliances, and marriages of royalty.
The thing that I remember most about the museum, is that I couldn’t read most of the signs. At the entryway to every room, there were summary signs in English and Spanish, but the majority of the museum was only in Catalan, the traditional language of the region, which resembles a mix between Spanish and French. Bear with me for a very brief history lesson. During the dictatorship of Franco, all other languages spoken in Spain besides Spanish as we know it (Castellano), were forbidden. Now they want to preserve their language, and Catalan is even taught in schools. However, while I was reading the signs I felt as if I had regressed back two years in my ability to read Spanish, because I could only make sense of every third word or so.
That afternoon, after a desperately needed siesta, we wandered around the fancy shopping district with some really expensive stores, that I have no clue about, but Orquidea was trying to teach me. The Christmas lights in the city were beautiful, and of course, instead of “Feliz Navidad,” the greeting is written in Catalan, “Bon Nadal.” Later we decided to go for a tapa, and we saw the beginning of the Madrid verses Barcelona soccer game, which apparently are the two most important soccer teams in Spain. When we left, two men gratefully took our seats, and afterwards all the bars we passed were packed with their TVs tuned to the game. We were hoping for a Barcelona victory so we could see the city celebrate, but we were unlucky.
The next morning we went to a market to buy some fresh fruit and cheese. This one was not the least bit touristy and it was fun to hear the Barcelonans speaking in Catalan, and then easily switching over to speak to us in Spanish. Outside the market, while puzzeling over our map, a little old man stopped to help us. We told him we wanted to go to La Sagrada Familia. He told us that we could walk all year and not get there, and then proceeded to tell us about a Metro that they are trying to build underneath La Sagrada Familia, which might make it fall, and if it falls it will start World War 3. I think he had us there for a good fifteen minutes or so, but he did tell us how to easily get there on the Metro.
We arrived at La Sagrada Familia. A massive church Gaudi worked on for a great part of his life. And when I saw massive I really mean it, because most churches look really big, but with modern buildings surrounding them, they get lost in the skyline, not La Sagrada Familia. But of course they haven’t finished building it yet. Gaudi’s style recalls older architecture, but always with an imaginative twist. We also went to a hospital constructed by another architect, but in the same imaginative modernist style. You feel as if you are in a cartoon, but my pictures of it didn’t turn out well. The sun was so strong in Barcelona that there were always strong shadows on everything I took pictures. Christmas day we also went to the park that Gaudi created: Parque Guell. As you can see from the pictures, we were thrown into another fantasyland. A couple of nights before seeing all of Gaudi’s works, I started reading Alice in Wonderland, that Orquidea lent me. If anyone wants to go to Barcelona to see Gaudi’s works, I recommend this, because both are so imaginative, and I can completely picture Lewis Carroll’s work taking place in Gaudi’s park.
On Christmas, we treated ourselves and went out for Italian food with an Israeli girl from the hostel that we met. In the sorts of hostels that we stayed in you meet people from all over the world, which is one of the attractions of traveling this way. To my knowledge I’d never met anyone from Israel before so it was interesting to learn about her and her country. Sadly we didn’t do anything else more Christmasy, except think about all of our friends and family that we miss.
The next day we wished Barcelona goodbye, but only after we got lost in the Barcelona Metro system. We spent a long time jumping on and off the different lines to find our way to the bus station, because we couldn’t even find a map to consult. However, I did see a book-vending machine, which I thought was the coolest thing ever, until Orquidea told me that they had libraries in the Metro in Hong Kong.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Un día típica en Algeciras
Today instead of taking a siesta, I’m writing this entry because I promised my grandparents I would last night. Truthfully I don’t normally take siestas; I normally can’t fall asleep in so little time. My roommate Maria can; it impresses me that she can just completely clear her mind and fall asleep in minutes. I think this reflects Spanish culture in general: not to worry too much. My grandparents requested that I talk about a typical day here. I’ll start with talking about yesterday, although I’m sure I’ll get distracted in the telling.
Mondays are my long days. Yesterday I woke up at 8:35, because I accidentally set my alarm clock to pm so it didn’t go off. I had some yogurt and an apple for breakfast and then I hurried to school. I have class at 9:15 and I needed to make some copies of a worksheet to do with my students. Yesterday the teacher wanted to use the first 20 minutes of class to go over a few more exercises with the students since they have a test on Friday. He was taught them about how to use the verbs “to make” and “to do,” because we use them very differently than how they use them in Spanish. These are the primero de bachillerato students (11th grade), but sadly he still explains and speaks almost all in Spanish. But I learned a few things about how English words translate into Spanish so it was helpful for me. When he finished I had control of the class. We did a worksheet about Murphey’s Law (the worst thing possible that can happen will happen), that I had done previously with the other teacher in quarto de ESO (10th grade). The students had to listen to me read a passage and then they had to complete some sentences using Murphey’s Law (using the future tense). Most of these students have been taking English for 5 years at least I think and most of them can still barely make sentences in English, either written or spoken. Some of them attempt to ask me questions in English, but many can’t really make sentences or they’re lazy and so just revert to Spanish. It’s bad for them, but I get to hear lots of Spanish and learn various words. I always speak to them in English though, even though they ask me and would much prefer it if I spoke in Spanish, although recently I’ve translated a word or two into Spanish.
Class ends at 10:15 or so and I have an hour until break time when I have 30 minutes in which I’m supposed to speak in English to any professors who show up to practice. Recently no one has been coming at all, which is a bit annoying because we’re supposed to be there anyways. Normally during that free hour I check my email, or talk to the professors sometimes over a cup of coffee. Yesterday though we (Michelle, Erin, and I) brought traditional sweets from the UK and the US. I made sugar cookies. My mom sent me the cookie cutters and I was able to bake them in Michelle’s oven. They actually turned out really well, even though I couldn’t find powdered sugar to make icing. One professor told me that my cookies were his favorite out of all of them. He’s really funny and loves talking about food. Michelle had brought mince pies from Scotland, which I had heard of before, but never knew what they were. They are like miniature pies with raisins and other spices inside. They were really good. Normally in Spain and even in the UK people don’t make cookies, so they were impressed with mine.
After the break, Michelle and I brought my cookies and the other treats down to the cafeteria to share with the workers there, and I stayed to explain to them what the various treats were. And then we ended up talking about Cadiz, where I went over the weekend with Orquidea and other things. Normally I have class again at 1:30 until 2:30 with quarto de ESO, but yesterday the teacher wanted to prepare her students more for their test instead of having the conversation class with me. I had forgotten that I would get home early enough to have time to cook lunch so I already had leftover curry ready to eat that I made on Sunday. I bought the curry sauce in a jar in a supermarket here, in hopes that it would be good, but sadly it was not in the least bit spicy and too sweet besides. (My grandparents requested all of these details by the way). The first week or so, Maria cooked for me and offered me her food, so I became accustomed to always eating a piece of fruit after eating lunch. Also since I normally don’t eat lunch until around 2:30, I’m really hungry and I eat a big lunch. Here in Spain they call this meal “la comida” (which literally means the food), which I think really reflects the importance of this meal, because it is the major and most important meal of the day.
After lunch is siesta time. I should give a thorough description of siesta time, because it is definitely distinct. All of the stores close during siesta, from around 2 to around 5 or 6. Only really big supermarkets or Asian stores remain open (the only Asian people you see in Spain work in these stores that sell really cheap goods, like dollar stores in the US, but with wider variety). If you walk the streets during siesta time, you don’t see anyone at all, they are completely dead. In general you can’t get anything done; siesta time is a time to relax. Like I mentioned before, I normally can’t take a siesta, but yesterday I attempted to sleep for an hour and a half or less, and I actually did sleep for a little bit. If I don’t sleep I watch the news which always comes on at 3 here (after people have finished lunch), though it feels like the news is always on because before this they have like filler news, stories about nothing important or news about famous people. Or I’ll prepare material for my classes in the afternoon.
At 4, Maria and I leave to go and work at the religious school with the younger kids. Our classes begin at 4:30 and go until 6. Yesterday I had the 5 year olds, but since the other teacher had a meeting to go to, I was also stuck with half of the 4 year olds. I managed, but just barely; more than 20 kids that young are too many for me. In general though, when I only have my 15 or so kids, I don’t do too badly. I’ve managed to teach most of them pencils, crayons, book and school bag, which is really exciting. It is still really frustrating with them many times, but now I realize that it is impossible to expect them to behave for an hour and a half, especially when many have been at school all day long. But sometimes they are so cute. Last week, for example, they finally seemed to realize that I don’t really know Spanish, that I speak English. I’ve begun to speak a bit of Spanglish with them so that they still understand what I want, but I use the English vocabulary words. I’m not sure if this is a good way to do it or not, but it’s my classroom, so I can experiment. It really makes them so much more uncomfortable when they have no idea what is going on, if I speak only in English. Anyways, for example, I tell the kids, dame (give me) a blue crayon. But this day I forgot so when I told a boy to color the stars yellow, I actually said amarillo, and one of the other boys pointed out, “has dicho amarillo”
I think I told him he was right or something like that and so then one of the boys asked me:
“Seño, no hables Español?” (Miss, you don’t speak Spanish?)
“Si, hablo Español. Estoy hablando en Español ahora.” (Yes, I speak Spanish, I’m speaking in Spanish now)
I think the little boys try to process this and then one of them tells me:
“Di estrella en Español” (Say star in Spanish)
I say “estrella” and they al giggle.
“Di casa en Español”
-“casa” And again they giggle.
“Di casa en ingles”
-“house” I’m pretty sure they started giggling again and that they asked me to say house, because they actually know that word in English. Next they asked me to say something in Spanish that I didn’t recognize, so I asked them what it was because I wasn’t about to repeat it in case it was something bad, you just never know with kids. In the end I think it was some Spanish cartoon show. During times like that I think they’re just so cute and I really enjoy working with them. I know I’m going to learn so much working with them this year. But I digress, back to my daily schedule.
We get back from the school around 6:10 or even earlier if we don’t go by a grocery store on our way home. Right away Maria makes herself some coffee and smokes a cigarette outside. Just last Monday I started giving private lessons to a sixteen-year-old girl from 7-8 on Mondays and Thursdays. But yesterday her mom called right before the lesson to cancel on me so thankfully I got a longer break before I had to go to Kursaal for the conversation class with the teachers who are learning English from 8:20 to 9:15 every Monday night. Last week I showed them some pictures of the Olympic National Park in Washington that I visited with my parents, because I know that one of the teachers really likes photography and nature. And it’s so much easier to find things to talk about when you have pictures in front of you. Yesterday, that professor I mentioned showed us pictures from El Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage in the north of Spain. His pictures were really beautiful, but his level of English isn’t great (though quite amazing, because I don’t think he’s ever formally taken English) so he was explaining a lot in Spanish, which was great for me. This year I think I have the opportunity go with the school for a week on this pilgrimage, which would be amazing.
After I come back from conversation I quickly cook and eat dinner. Often other days of the week I’ll start cooking or eating at 8:30, but traditionally Spanish people eat dinner around 9 or 10. Traditionally though, they eat much less for dinner, perhaps only a salad. For example last night I just had vegetable soup. At 10pm the good t.v. shows come on, before that, there is only more news while people are eating. I like to watch a silly show about a doctor that has gotten involved with a gang/mafia of gypsies. He ends up in all sorts of ridiculous situations, but it’s entertaining and easy for me to follow. Maria likes another show called “Desparecida” about a girl who goes missing and what the police do and what happens to her family (that’s really a horrible description of it).
Finally I usually go to bed between 11 and 12. That is more or less a typical day for me, if I have nothing else going on. Some weeks we go out for tapas with one of the teachers or to celebrate something. I hope you stuck with me through this extremely long blog entry. I worked on it during siesta and almost the entire time since I’ve come back from class. Now it’s 8:45 and I think it’s about time to prepare dinner. I’ll post this as soon as I can get my internet working again.
Mondays are my long days. Yesterday I woke up at 8:35, because I accidentally set my alarm clock to pm so it didn’t go off. I had some yogurt and an apple for breakfast and then I hurried to school. I have class at 9:15 and I needed to make some copies of a worksheet to do with my students. Yesterday the teacher wanted to use the first 20 minutes of class to go over a few more exercises with the students since they have a test on Friday. He was taught them about how to use the verbs “to make” and “to do,” because we use them very differently than how they use them in Spanish. These are the primero de bachillerato students (11th grade), but sadly he still explains and speaks almost all in Spanish. But I learned a few things about how English words translate into Spanish so it was helpful for me. When he finished I had control of the class. We did a worksheet about Murphey’s Law (the worst thing possible that can happen will happen), that I had done previously with the other teacher in quarto de ESO (10th grade). The students had to listen to me read a passage and then they had to complete some sentences using Murphey’s Law (using the future tense). Most of these students have been taking English for 5 years at least I think and most of them can still barely make sentences in English, either written or spoken. Some of them attempt to ask me questions in English, but many can’t really make sentences or they’re lazy and so just revert to Spanish. It’s bad for them, but I get to hear lots of Spanish and learn various words. I always speak to them in English though, even though they ask me and would much prefer it if I spoke in Spanish, although recently I’ve translated a word or two into Spanish.
Class ends at 10:15 or so and I have an hour until break time when I have 30 minutes in which I’m supposed to speak in English to any professors who show up to practice. Recently no one has been coming at all, which is a bit annoying because we’re supposed to be there anyways. Normally during that free hour I check my email, or talk to the professors sometimes over a cup of coffee. Yesterday though we (Michelle, Erin, and I) brought traditional sweets from the UK and the US. I made sugar cookies. My mom sent me the cookie cutters and I was able to bake them in Michelle’s oven. They actually turned out really well, even though I couldn’t find powdered sugar to make icing. One professor told me that my cookies were his favorite out of all of them. He’s really funny and loves talking about food. Michelle had brought mince pies from Scotland, which I had heard of before, but never knew what they were. They are like miniature pies with raisins and other spices inside. They were really good. Normally in Spain and even in the UK people don’t make cookies, so they were impressed with mine.
After the break, Michelle and I brought my cookies and the other treats down to the cafeteria to share with the workers there, and I stayed to explain to them what the various treats were. And then we ended up talking about Cadiz, where I went over the weekend with Orquidea and other things. Normally I have class again at 1:30 until 2:30 with quarto de ESO, but yesterday the teacher wanted to prepare her students more for their test instead of having the conversation class with me. I had forgotten that I would get home early enough to have time to cook lunch so I already had leftover curry ready to eat that I made on Sunday. I bought the curry sauce in a jar in a supermarket here, in hopes that it would be good, but sadly it was not in the least bit spicy and too sweet besides. (My grandparents requested all of these details by the way). The first week or so, Maria cooked for me and offered me her food, so I became accustomed to always eating a piece of fruit after eating lunch. Also since I normally don’t eat lunch until around 2:30, I’m really hungry and I eat a big lunch. Here in Spain they call this meal “la comida” (which literally means the food), which I think really reflects the importance of this meal, because it is the major and most important meal of the day.
After lunch is siesta time. I should give a thorough description of siesta time, because it is definitely distinct. All of the stores close during siesta, from around 2 to around 5 or 6. Only really big supermarkets or Asian stores remain open (the only Asian people you see in Spain work in these stores that sell really cheap goods, like dollar stores in the US, but with wider variety). If you walk the streets during siesta time, you don’t see anyone at all, they are completely dead. In general you can’t get anything done; siesta time is a time to relax. Like I mentioned before, I normally can’t take a siesta, but yesterday I attempted to sleep for an hour and a half or less, and I actually did sleep for a little bit. If I don’t sleep I watch the news which always comes on at 3 here (after people have finished lunch), though it feels like the news is always on because before this they have like filler news, stories about nothing important or news about famous people. Or I’ll prepare material for my classes in the afternoon.
At 4, Maria and I leave to go and work at the religious school with the younger kids. Our classes begin at 4:30 and go until 6. Yesterday I had the 5 year olds, but since the other teacher had a meeting to go to, I was also stuck with half of the 4 year olds. I managed, but just barely; more than 20 kids that young are too many for me. In general though, when I only have my 15 or so kids, I don’t do too badly. I’ve managed to teach most of them pencils, crayons, book and school bag, which is really exciting. It is still really frustrating with them many times, but now I realize that it is impossible to expect them to behave for an hour and a half, especially when many have been at school all day long. But sometimes they are so cute. Last week, for example, they finally seemed to realize that I don’t really know Spanish, that I speak English. I’ve begun to speak a bit of Spanglish with them so that they still understand what I want, but I use the English vocabulary words. I’m not sure if this is a good way to do it or not, but it’s my classroom, so I can experiment. It really makes them so much more uncomfortable when they have no idea what is going on, if I speak only in English. Anyways, for example, I tell the kids, dame (give me) a blue crayon. But this day I forgot so when I told a boy to color the stars yellow, I actually said amarillo, and one of the other boys pointed out, “has dicho amarillo”
I think I told him he was right or something like that and so then one of the boys asked me:
“Seño, no hables Español?” (Miss, you don’t speak Spanish?)
“Si, hablo Español. Estoy hablando en Español ahora.” (Yes, I speak Spanish, I’m speaking in Spanish now)
I think the little boys try to process this and then one of them tells me:
“Di estrella en Español” (Say star in Spanish)
I say “estrella” and they al giggle.
“Di casa en Español”
-“casa” And again they giggle.
“Di casa en ingles”
-“house” I’m pretty sure they started giggling again and that they asked me to say house, because they actually know that word in English. Next they asked me to say something in Spanish that I didn’t recognize, so I asked them what it was because I wasn’t about to repeat it in case it was something bad, you just never know with kids. In the end I think it was some Spanish cartoon show. During times like that I think they’re just so cute and I really enjoy working with them. I know I’m going to learn so much working with them this year. But I digress, back to my daily schedule.
We get back from the school around 6:10 or even earlier if we don’t go by a grocery store on our way home. Right away Maria makes herself some coffee and smokes a cigarette outside. Just last Monday I started giving private lessons to a sixteen-year-old girl from 7-8 on Mondays and Thursdays. But yesterday her mom called right before the lesson to cancel on me so thankfully I got a longer break before I had to go to Kursaal for the conversation class with the teachers who are learning English from 8:20 to 9:15 every Monday night. Last week I showed them some pictures of the Olympic National Park in Washington that I visited with my parents, because I know that one of the teachers really likes photography and nature. And it’s so much easier to find things to talk about when you have pictures in front of you. Yesterday, that professor I mentioned showed us pictures from El Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage in the north of Spain. His pictures were really beautiful, but his level of English isn’t great (though quite amazing, because I don’t think he’s ever formally taken English) so he was explaining a lot in Spanish, which was great for me. This year I think I have the opportunity go with the school for a week on this pilgrimage, which would be amazing.
After I come back from conversation I quickly cook and eat dinner. Often other days of the week I’ll start cooking or eating at 8:30, but traditionally Spanish people eat dinner around 9 or 10. Traditionally though, they eat much less for dinner, perhaps only a salad. For example last night I just had vegetable soup. At 10pm the good t.v. shows come on, before that, there is only more news while people are eating. I like to watch a silly show about a doctor that has gotten involved with a gang/mafia of gypsies. He ends up in all sorts of ridiculous situations, but it’s entertaining and easy for me to follow. Maria likes another show called “Desparecida” about a girl who goes missing and what the police do and what happens to her family (that’s really a horrible description of it).
Finally I usually go to bed between 11 and 12. That is more or less a typical day for me, if I have nothing else going on. Some weeks we go out for tapas with one of the teachers or to celebrate something. I hope you stuck with me through this extremely long blog entry. I worked on it during siesta and almost the entire time since I’ve come back from class. Now it’s 8:45 and I think it’s about time to prepare dinner. I’ll post this as soon as I can get my internet working again.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
An Oven-less Thanksgiving
That's right, we have no oven. It was never really an issue before; I don't normally cook in the oven. I do like baking, but I don't have any measuring cups or a scale (which is what they use to measure ingredients here) so it was a moot point. Apparently it is unusual to lack an oven here, unlike Thailand and Mexico where I believe the lack of an oven is not unusual. Ironically the other two Americans that are here working in Algeciras don't have an oven either, but the Scottish girl does. Since we didn't want to impose on her, for Thanksgiving we had turkey cooked on the stove, rice stuffing on the stove, green bean casserole on the stove, and an "apple pie" of course cooked on the stove, along with more traditional, stove-friendly dishes. For dessert I contributed rice krispie treats, which were pink (the only kind of marshmallows I could find here have an outer pink layer) and made with frosted flakes (I never found normal rice krispies).
I took the rice krispie treats to the school as a thanksgiving treat for the teachers and they loved them. Most teachers approached the treats with caution, an unsure, concerned look on their faces. They searched for the smallest square to try, wary of these unknown pink squares. However, once they ate a square, they searched for the largest piece to eat for seconds. Some teachers didn't know what marshmallows were even in Spanish (nubes or esponjitas; I think they were called bonbones in Mexican Spanish). It was a lot of fun to see the teachers' amazement and enthusiasm for one our traditional desserts. Is there anything else I should make for them?
I also took some treats down to the school's cafeteria to the workers there, because one of them always brings various treats for the teachers to eat and I wanted to share and reciprocate his generosity. I've become friends with them and enjoy chatting in Spanish over a cup of coffee (yes I drink coffee now; it only took two cups of coffee that I drunk to be social with the teachers before I got addicted (well not quite addicted, but I do like it)) during free hours between lessons.
Back to thanksgiving. First I'd like to give you a bit of a background on my mini English speaking "family" in Spain. First of course there is Maria (who I've mentioned a few times before), my Spanish roommate who is from Jerez. Since she also works in Jerez on Fridays, she normally stays with her family and goes out with her friends there during the weekend. But I see her a lot during the week since we work at the religious school together. Then there is Erin, my American roommate from Colorado. She works with me at Kursaal. We have very very different personalities so sometimes it is interesting living and working together and having the same "family." Then there is Michelle, the girl from Scotland. She's really fun and we have a good time learning the differences between each other's English. For example:
Michelle: I want to make fairy cakes.
Me: what? what are fairy cakes?
Michelle: You know like muffins, but mini cakes.
Me: oh you mean cupcakes!
And for example in the UK they call cookies biscuits. To them a cookie is only a chocolate chip cookie. It gets really confusing sometimes and we can go on for a while, "well then what do you call this?" Oh and today I learned Christmas lights are called fairy lights. What’s their obsession with fairies?
Right, I get distracted easily. Then we have Michelle's roommate, Conchi, who is Spanish from Sevilla. She often goes back to Sevilla, but when she doesn't, she hangs out with us, because she's new to Algeciras too. She's an English teacher at Kursaal with us. Then lastly, the other two Americans, Rebecca and Crystal, who are here with the same program that Erin and I are. Rebecca (from Ohio) works at a colegio primaria (an elementary school) and also with Maria and me twice a week at the religious school. She's really outgoing and quite funny at times. Crystal (from Washington D.C.) works at the official school of languages, teaching adults, including some of the professors at my school who are learning English. She's really sweet, but sadly I don't see her as often as the others.
For thanksgiving we were all together (except Maria) plus one Spanish guy who doesn't know any English. It was fun for us three Americans to share our thanksgiving tradition with the three outsiders. It's very nice and comfortable to have a mini English speaking family here. Of course I miss all of you guys back there and I haven't really felt like any of the holidays have truly existed this year without all of you, but I think it would be a lot harder without them here. It's nice to have people who understand your culture and together we can all complain about the siesta and nothing being open on Sundays, but I still hope I can continue to branch out and meet more Spanish people. I'm making progress, poco a poco.
Two weeks ago a new teacher, Monica, arrived at our school (she's substituting for a few months for a teacher who's adopting a child from China). She's from Murcia, a small province in Spain that's between Andalucia and Valencia, and very far away from Algeciras. So she can't go back home and she's also a foreigner in this strange land that is Andalucia. She's very friendly. She doesn't really know English, but when she speaks in Spanish she's really expressive always using her hands to explain what she is saying. It's really helpful and very funny. She took us to the movies Friday, in Spanish of course, because in Spain they insist on dubbing everything into Spanish. We went out with her and some of her friends that came from Murcia and today she took us to Gibraltar with them. I wish she were staying the whole time I'm here; she's so fun to talk with.
I've also found some people (well just guys) I can play soccer with. Here it is more unusual for girls to play soccer, but I won't let that stop me. Apparently the guys in the cafeteria already heard that I was going to play and were asking me about it (I think they were a bit surprised). I was going to start playing on Thursday, but since it was Thanksgiving I'll play this week. I know already that I will have two cheerleaders, Michelle and Monica, coming to watch. I can't wait till I get to play.
Well until next time. I apologize for the excessive use of parentheses, but I actually reread through my entry this time before posting. Let me know what you want to know about Spain or my life here.
I took the rice krispie treats to the school as a thanksgiving treat for the teachers and they loved them. Most teachers approached the treats with caution, an unsure, concerned look on their faces. They searched for the smallest square to try, wary of these unknown pink squares. However, once they ate a square, they searched for the largest piece to eat for seconds. Some teachers didn't know what marshmallows were even in Spanish (nubes or esponjitas; I think they were called bonbones in Mexican Spanish). It was a lot of fun to see the teachers' amazement and enthusiasm for one our traditional desserts. Is there anything else I should make for them?
I also took some treats down to the school's cafeteria to the workers there, because one of them always brings various treats for the teachers to eat and I wanted to share and reciprocate his generosity. I've become friends with them and enjoy chatting in Spanish over a cup of coffee (yes I drink coffee now; it only took two cups of coffee that I drunk to be social with the teachers before I got addicted (well not quite addicted, but I do like it)) during free hours between lessons.
Back to thanksgiving. First I'd like to give you a bit of a background on my mini English speaking "family" in Spain. First of course there is Maria (who I've mentioned a few times before), my Spanish roommate who is from Jerez. Since she also works in Jerez on Fridays, she normally stays with her family and goes out with her friends there during the weekend. But I see her a lot during the week since we work at the religious school together. Then there is Erin, my American roommate from Colorado. She works with me at Kursaal. We have very very different personalities so sometimes it is interesting living and working together and having the same "family." Then there is Michelle, the girl from Scotland. She's really fun and we have a good time learning the differences between each other's English. For example:
Michelle: I want to make fairy cakes.
Me: what? what are fairy cakes?
Michelle: You know like muffins, but mini cakes.
Me: oh you mean cupcakes!
And for example in the UK they call cookies biscuits. To them a cookie is only a chocolate chip cookie. It gets really confusing sometimes and we can go on for a while, "well then what do you call this?" Oh and today I learned Christmas lights are called fairy lights. What’s their obsession with fairies?
Right, I get distracted easily. Then we have Michelle's roommate, Conchi, who is Spanish from Sevilla. She often goes back to Sevilla, but when she doesn't, she hangs out with us, because she's new to Algeciras too. She's an English teacher at Kursaal with us. Then lastly, the other two Americans, Rebecca and Crystal, who are here with the same program that Erin and I are. Rebecca (from Ohio) works at a colegio primaria (an elementary school) and also with Maria and me twice a week at the religious school. She's really outgoing and quite funny at times. Crystal (from Washington D.C.) works at the official school of languages, teaching adults, including some of the professors at my school who are learning English. She's really sweet, but sadly I don't see her as often as the others.
For thanksgiving we were all together (except Maria) plus one Spanish guy who doesn't know any English. It was fun for us three Americans to share our thanksgiving tradition with the three outsiders. It's very nice and comfortable to have a mini English speaking family here. Of course I miss all of you guys back there and I haven't really felt like any of the holidays have truly existed this year without all of you, but I think it would be a lot harder without them here. It's nice to have people who understand your culture and together we can all complain about the siesta and nothing being open on Sundays, but I still hope I can continue to branch out and meet more Spanish people. I'm making progress, poco a poco.
Two weeks ago a new teacher, Monica, arrived at our school (she's substituting for a few months for a teacher who's adopting a child from China). She's from Murcia, a small province in Spain that's between Andalucia and Valencia, and very far away from Algeciras. So she can't go back home and she's also a foreigner in this strange land that is Andalucia. She's very friendly. She doesn't really know English, but when she speaks in Spanish she's really expressive always using her hands to explain what she is saying. It's really helpful and very funny. She took us to the movies Friday, in Spanish of course, because in Spain they insist on dubbing everything into Spanish. We went out with her and some of her friends that came from Murcia and today she took us to Gibraltar with them. I wish she were staying the whole time I'm here; she's so fun to talk with.
I've also found some people (well just guys) I can play soccer with. Here it is more unusual for girls to play soccer, but I won't let that stop me. Apparently the guys in the cafeteria already heard that I was going to play and were asking me about it (I think they were a bit surprised). I was going to start playing on Thursday, but since it was Thanksgiving I'll play this week. I know already that I will have two cheerleaders, Michelle and Monica, coming to watch. I can't wait till I get to play.
Well until next time. I apologize for the excessive use of parentheses, but I actually reread through my entry this time before posting. Let me know what you want to know about Spain or my life here.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Arab Andalucia
As you’ve already realized I’m really bad at this bloging thing. I guess I prefer other forms of communication where I get responses to what I’ve written. *hint you can leave me comments on my blog. Not that I’m promising anything even then. I wanted to write another blog entry for you, but I wasn’t sure what to write about. I guess almost every weekend that I’ve been here in Algeciras I’ve at least gone on a day trip to another city close by. I’ve been able to compare Algeciras with some of the rest of Andalucia. Orquidea thinks that Algeciras is not Spanish. Of course when she was here visiting me I did keep on dragging her through what is for me the most interesting part of Andalucia, the Moroccan part. Just past the outdoors Market you enter an area with an entirely different rhythm. Here you can find Moroccan butchers, also selling tea, couscous, other stuff unknown to me, and most importantly spices! Some Spanish food is excellent, but most of what I’ve had lacks any sort of spices. I bought some at one of the stores; and Orquidea had a good laugh because neither I, nor the Moroccan man, could understand each other’s Spanish.
Anyways as you wander through the winding streets which I assume make up the oldest part of Algeciras you can encounter men dressed in traditional long robes and these slipper-like shoes. In one shop that I poked my head into I saw an old man dressed so with a long, wispy white beard. Of course in this part of town Orquid and I were “chased” by a crazy old man. He was behind us shouting about demons and being possessed, although Orquidea decided not to translate this until we had lost him. I don’t think he was really chasing us, but we kept walking faster and faster away from him and he kept going in the same direction as us. I might have to agree with Brian, that Algeciras has a bit of a rough side. The stares that I get in that part feel quite a bit different than the stares in the rest of Spain.
Morocco isn’t isolated to just one part of Algeciras. Close to my apartment there is a, well it’s not exactly a resturant nor street food, I guess it’s closest to fast food, Moroccan style. They sell this wonderfully spiced chicken wrapped up in tortilla-like things and filled with all sorts of vegetables, from onions to carrots to beets. They are really delicious. The place is only open at night and seems to draw lots of Spanish teenagers looking for their cheap, late-night dinner, but during the day the garage-like door is often cracked and Moroccan music and the most delicious smells leak out in the Spanish world.
When I went to visit Orquidea last weekend we went to a teteria, a tea shop. When she first moved in there we both noticed the place, decorated with the unique pointed Arab arches and deep, rich colors. It is so obviously Arab, that I thought it might be purely a place catering to tourists. We sat down inside and it might have only been 10pm (which is early for Spanish people) so there was only one group of people sitting down. One man was playing a violin, but instead of resting it on his shoulder, as I was taught, he played it almost like a cello, resting it on his knee. The rest of the men accompanied him clamping their hands and singing. Orquidea normally hears this music every weekend evening inside her apartment. Other people, almost all men, started to fill up the place, some ordered tea, others smoked Hookah. At one point Orquidea looked around and realized that besides the other women who were Spanish, we were the only others who were not Arab. She said that she felt really uncomfortable there; not that I didn’t, but I have this feeling in most of Spain. I really stand out down here.
In many of the other cities that we have visited there have been remains of Arab architecture from the time when Andalucia was under Muslim rule during the Middle Ages. On the way home from visiting Orquidea last weekend we stopped off in Malaga just planning to wander the city a bit and see if we liked it any better than the one night that we spent there before. Luckily this time we actually had a map to follow. I decided that I wanted to try to find the Alcazaba; I wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked kind of like a castle on the map and as Orquidea well knows, I rather like to go to the castles (unfortunately for her this often entails climbing a lot of hills, because unfortunately castles are normally built on the highest ground). Since we had no idea what the Alcazaba was, we weren’t really expecting much. When we found it, we weren’t sure we would even enter, because I only have enough money to buy my ticket back to Algeciras (we hadn’t be paid at that time, but thankfully that problem is remedied now). Luckily for us on Sunday afternoons it is free. We soon found out that Alcazaba is the Arabic word for fortress, and this particular fortress in Malaga was built near the site of an ancient Roman site. The builders took elements of the Roman ruins and integrated them into their own architecture. For example some of the traditional Arab arches incorporate the roman columns. It is really a bit weird to see. Besides this unique aspect, the fortress is the biggest Arab building Orquid and I have yet been to. Much of the outer walls are still intact, as well as the inner rooms, and beautiful courtyard gardens. I’m sure it can’t compare to the Alhambra in Granada, but in the meantime I’m enjoying the other Arab influences scattered about Spain.
Anyways as you wander through the winding streets which I assume make up the oldest part of Algeciras you can encounter men dressed in traditional long robes and these slipper-like shoes. In one shop that I poked my head into I saw an old man dressed so with a long, wispy white beard. Of course in this part of town Orquid and I were “chased” by a crazy old man. He was behind us shouting about demons and being possessed, although Orquidea decided not to translate this until we had lost him. I don’t think he was really chasing us, but we kept walking faster and faster away from him and he kept going in the same direction as us. I might have to agree with Brian, that Algeciras has a bit of a rough side. The stares that I get in that part feel quite a bit different than the stares in the rest of Spain.
Morocco isn’t isolated to just one part of Algeciras. Close to my apartment there is a, well it’s not exactly a resturant nor street food, I guess it’s closest to fast food, Moroccan style. They sell this wonderfully spiced chicken wrapped up in tortilla-like things and filled with all sorts of vegetables, from onions to carrots to beets. They are really delicious. The place is only open at night and seems to draw lots of Spanish teenagers looking for their cheap, late-night dinner, but during the day the garage-like door is often cracked and Moroccan music and the most delicious smells leak out in the Spanish world.
When I went to visit Orquidea last weekend we went to a teteria, a tea shop. When she first moved in there we both noticed the place, decorated with the unique pointed Arab arches and deep, rich colors. It is so obviously Arab, that I thought it might be purely a place catering to tourists. We sat down inside and it might have only been 10pm (which is early for Spanish people) so there was only one group of people sitting down. One man was playing a violin, but instead of resting it on his shoulder, as I was taught, he played it almost like a cello, resting it on his knee. The rest of the men accompanied him clamping their hands and singing. Orquidea normally hears this music every weekend evening inside her apartment. Other people, almost all men, started to fill up the place, some ordered tea, others smoked Hookah. At one point Orquidea looked around and realized that besides the other women who were Spanish, we were the only others who were not Arab. She said that she felt really uncomfortable there; not that I didn’t, but I have this feeling in most of Spain. I really stand out down here.
In many of the other cities that we have visited there have been remains of Arab architecture from the time when Andalucia was under Muslim rule during the Middle Ages. On the way home from visiting Orquidea last weekend we stopped off in Malaga just planning to wander the city a bit and see if we liked it any better than the one night that we spent there before. Luckily this time we actually had a map to follow. I decided that I wanted to try to find the Alcazaba; I wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked kind of like a castle on the map and as Orquidea well knows, I rather like to go to the castles (unfortunately for her this often entails climbing a lot of hills, because unfortunately castles are normally built on the highest ground). Since we had no idea what the Alcazaba was, we weren’t really expecting much. When we found it, we weren’t sure we would even enter, because I only have enough money to buy my ticket back to Algeciras (we hadn’t be paid at that time, but thankfully that problem is remedied now). Luckily for us on Sunday afternoons it is free. We soon found out that Alcazaba is the Arabic word for fortress, and this particular fortress in Malaga was built near the site of an ancient Roman site. The builders took elements of the Roman ruins and integrated them into their own architecture. For example some of the traditional Arab arches incorporate the roman columns. It is really a bit weird to see. Besides this unique aspect, the fortress is the biggest Arab building Orquid and I have yet been to. Much of the outer walls are still intact, as well as the inner rooms, and beautiful courtyard gardens. I’m sure it can’t compare to the Alhambra in Granada, but in the meantime I’m enjoying the other Arab influences scattered about Spain.
Friday, November 9, 2007
El Colegio Kursaal
I have twelve hours a week at Kursaal as una auxiliare de conversacion. I spend three hours a week in 3 different 10th grade classes. The kids are separated into the different classes according to their level. The lowest level only has 8 students in it. In Spain, students are only required to finish 10th grade to finish secondary school. If they wish, if they want to go on to university, they can continue to study two more years. I also go to one class of primero de bachillerato (11th grade) once a week. I’m never supposed to be in these classes alone and I don’t even completely take over the class either. Although the teacher I work with in primero de bachillerato normally tells me ok, the class is yours, which really took me off guard at first. Of course, not as much as when I showed up to class on Monday morning and found out that Christian (the teacher) wasn’t there. Bear with me while I switch to Spanish for a second.
I ask the strange teacher who was in the classroom: “Donde esta Christian?”
“Esta enfermo.”
Um…well, “Normalmente estoy en clase con el.”
“Cuanto tiempo?”
“Todo el clase.”
“Entonces, adiós. Estaré en la sala de profesores si me necesitas”
uh….
Thankfully I had a whole lesson plan worked out and had done it with some of the other classes. The students were only a bit more naughty alone with me, than when Christian is there. But I had never realized how much difficulty many of them have understanding me. I was explaining the activity and I was getting a lot of blank faces, so I asked “Do you understand what I am saying?” and I still only got blank faces. I wasn’t sure what do to if they can’t understand that. They aren’t used to having to listen to English and many of them don’t really want to concentrate enough to understand I think. Also they are used to British English. But I was able to make one student understand me by repeating and talking really really slowly. I did catch one student saying ….aburrido.
I also have 3 hours spread out over the week to practice English with the professors who are learning English. It’s interesting to talk with the different professors and get to know them a bit better. Many of the professors are from lots of different places in Spain. I think in general many teachers don’t have an option of where they work. Many people live and work in Algeciras during the week, but go back to their hometown every weekend, including my Spanish roommate Maria.
I also work with teachers who will be teaching part of their classes in English next year. I’m working with Ciencias Naturales, Informatica, and Educacion Fisica. Thirty percent of the entire course is required to be in English. So for example in Biology, the book I’ve seen teaches concepts to students in English and Spanish. Most of the activities use a combination of directions and questions in English and Spanish. I’m really curious about how this will work next year. First of all most of the professors who will be teaching these classes are still not very good at English, and of course secondly neither are the kids. I’m sure some kids are going to be somewhat resistant to having to learn the concepts in English as well.
I ask the strange teacher who was in the classroom: “Donde esta Christian?”
“Esta enfermo.”
Um…well, “Normalmente estoy en clase con el.”
“Cuanto tiempo?”
“Todo el clase.”
“Entonces, adiós. Estaré en la sala de profesores si me necesitas”
uh….
Thankfully I had a whole lesson plan worked out and had done it with some of the other classes. The students were only a bit more naughty alone with me, than when Christian is there. But I had never realized how much difficulty many of them have understanding me. I was explaining the activity and I was getting a lot of blank faces, so I asked “Do you understand what I am saying?” and I still only got blank faces. I wasn’t sure what do to if they can’t understand that. They aren’t used to having to listen to English and many of them don’t really want to concentrate enough to understand I think. Also they are used to British English. But I was able to make one student understand me by repeating and talking really really slowly. I did catch one student saying ….aburrido.
I also have 3 hours spread out over the week to practice English with the professors who are learning English. It’s interesting to talk with the different professors and get to know them a bit better. Many of the professors are from lots of different places in Spain. I think in general many teachers don’t have an option of where they work. Many people live and work in Algeciras during the week, but go back to their hometown every weekend, including my Spanish roommate Maria.
I also work with teachers who will be teaching part of their classes in English next year. I’m working with Ciencias Naturales, Informatica, and Educacion Fisica. Thirty percent of the entire course is required to be in English. So for example in Biology, the book I’ve seen teaches concepts to students in English and Spanish. Most of the activities use a combination of directions and questions in English and Spanish. I’m really curious about how this will work next year. First of all most of the professors who will be teaching these classes are still not very good at English, and of course secondly neither are the kids. I’m sure some kids are going to be somewhat resistant to having to learn the concepts in English as well.
Friday, October 26, 2007
My schools- yes plural
I haven’t updated for quite some time. I’ve just been getting accustomed to the schools, my roommates and life here in general. This will be a rather long update in order to relate some details about my schools, yes schools in plural. My wonderfully helpful roommate Maria knew about another school that needed an English teacher. She took me with her to the school one day, where she works as well, and after a few minutes of talking I was hired, with absolutely no experience or credentials or anything. I’m a native speaker and I guess that means a lot here. At this religious school I work 6 hours a week giving English lessons as a part of the extracurricular after school program. I work twice a week (for an hour and a half each time) with 5 year olds (I was going to work with 3 year olds, but I decided that that was going to be a little much for me. I really hope that 5 year olds are better) and twice a week with 9/10/11 year olds. This is not in any way related to the program I came with, so I am alone in the classroom with the kids.
The first day Maria and I decided to have our classes together so I could learn from her how to handle the kids. So we had a few more than 20 three and five year olds running around. The worst part was that half of the three year olds were crying the entire time. There are three-year-old triplets that are so tiny and really cute. The class was in general chaos and we hadn’t really had any plan of what to do with the class. It was chaotic and so exhausting. The next day Maria and I were going to have the older kids in a class together again. Unfortunately together we had more than 50 kids. If I thought the day before was chaotic, then I have no words to explain this day. We managed to control them and review a few English words by playing games with them.
The next day I had the 3 year olds on my own with the addition of half of the 4 year olds, because the teacher who has the 4 year olds had something else she had to do and no one bothered to inform us of that before hand. I had been planning on teaching them colors and then I had had something for them to color. The problem was that the 4 year olds already knew the colors and they sat in front and shouted out the colors, while the 3 year olds sat in the back and ignored me (thankfully only two cried this time). Then when I got them all to sit at the tables to color and gave them the colored pencils, they all told me “no tiene punta, no tiene punta” and I had to answer “niguna, niguna.” None of the colored pencils were sharpened. The only good thing that came out of that day was that I was forced to practice my crappy Spanish, because for the most part the kids ignored me when I tried to give them commands in English. This by far was the worst day out of the first three. Thankfully the next day with the older kids went much better and now I really adore them.
On my birthday I had the older kids (9/10/11 year olds) and I told them it was my birthday and they all started to sing Happy Birthday to me in English until they got to the part “Happy Birthday dear….” They didn’t remember my name. I told my name, wrote it on the board, and they sang to me a second time. I may not have a clue what I am doing, but I think I will enjoy doing it with this group of kids. The next day they also gave me birthday cards that they made. I just hope that my group of 5 year olds grows on me as much. If anyone has any advice for dealing with these kids, I sure could use it! I’ll write more soon I swear, but I think this is it for today.
The first day Maria and I decided to have our classes together so I could learn from her how to handle the kids. So we had a few more than 20 three and five year olds running around. The worst part was that half of the three year olds were crying the entire time. There are three-year-old triplets that are so tiny and really cute. The class was in general chaos and we hadn’t really had any plan of what to do with the class. It was chaotic and so exhausting. The next day Maria and I were going to have the older kids in a class together again. Unfortunately together we had more than 50 kids. If I thought the day before was chaotic, then I have no words to explain this day. We managed to control them and review a few English words by playing games with them.
The next day I had the 3 year olds on my own with the addition of half of the 4 year olds, because the teacher who has the 4 year olds had something else she had to do and no one bothered to inform us of that before hand. I had been planning on teaching them colors and then I had had something for them to color. The problem was that the 4 year olds already knew the colors and they sat in front and shouted out the colors, while the 3 year olds sat in the back and ignored me (thankfully only two cried this time). Then when I got them all to sit at the tables to color and gave them the colored pencils, they all told me “no tiene punta, no tiene punta” and I had to answer “niguna, niguna.” None of the colored pencils were sharpened. The only good thing that came out of that day was that I was forced to practice my crappy Spanish, because for the most part the kids ignored me when I tried to give them commands in English. This by far was the worst day out of the first three. Thankfully the next day with the older kids went much better and now I really adore them.
On my birthday I had the older kids (9/10/11 year olds) and I told them it was my birthday and they all started to sing Happy Birthday to me in English until they got to the part “Happy Birthday dear….” They didn’t remember my name. I told my name, wrote it on the board, and they sang to me a second time. I may not have a clue what I am doing, but I think I will enjoy doing it with this group of kids. The next day they also gave me birthday cards that they made. I just hope that my group of 5 year olds grows on me as much. If anyone has any advice for dealing with these kids, I sure could use it! I’ll write more soon I swear, but I think this is it for today.
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