Angel and Luz

Today I went to a meeting in Oviedo for all the language assistants in the region and met my mentors for the first time. Mentors are the teachers who are supposedly responsible for the language assistants assigned to their school. We were meant to have received emails from our mentors many moons ago - mid-summer sort of time - with a general introduction, tips on how to find accommodation, offers to meet us from airports or train stations and good old-fashioned encouragement and advice. I didn't hear a thing from mine. But I didn't panic, I just sent them a few pestering emails over the course of a few months. September came around and it transpired that some peoples mentors had actually found them a flat or offered to house them for their first few weeks in Spain. Meanwhile my pestering emails remained unanswered. I panicked a little bit then. Eventually, I heard back... a nice email informing me that yes, I could go home for Christmas and no, they didn't know my timetable yet. Thorough. Most people had already met their mentors by this weekend. Jean's (the Scottish girl) had bought her a toaster for her flat and was picking her up to take her to the meeting this morning. I'd received an email saying 'hi, we don't know how we're getting to Oviedo, but we'll probably see you there'. Again, thorough.

So, needless to say, I wasn't feeling overly optimistic when I walked into the foyer to see assistants from all over the world chatting away to their mentors - their new found best friends whilst mine were still unidentified and incognito. I wandered aimlessly for a few minutes looking for anyone who might be them, feeling like a stray dog or something, then gave up and went to find Jade (the girl from France). All of a sudden, a ray of Essex sunshine burst into the room in the form of Miss Alex Nel. It was lovely to see her and she was looking very well indeed. For a brief period, I forgot all about my abandoned-by-my-mentor woes and went and sat with Alex and her super keen mentor in the conference room. The meeting was a bit of a waste of time to be honest. I did some doodles. That was cool. At the end, Pilar (the lady in charge of the whole operation) started calling out names of people who were yet to meet their mentors. Cue: the awkward moment when a Spaniard tries to pronounce my name. "Seeen? Sheehan? Shown?". I waved my hand in the air. A man and a lady in the front row waved back and beckoned me over.

They were my mentors. I get two because the man has just (very reluctantly) retired and the lady is taking over his position in the school but he still wants to be involved. Angel and Luz. Angel means, well, angel, funnily enough. And Luz means light. Not to sound cheesy, but that seemed pretty promising.

And then it all went drastically up hill. Within minutes I'd more than forgiven them for the lack of contact and information. They were so warm and friendly and down-to-earth. It didn't really add up, but I assume they must have just been busy with their respective near-retirement and new-job stresses. They invited me to join them for coffee and a donut and we chatted and laughed and had a lovely time. They gave me a really good sense of the sorts of things they want me to do and what the school is like. I tentatively floated the idea of leading extra-curricular drama classes because it isn't taught as an actual class. I wasn't sure how they'd react - if they might think it was a bit forward or presumptuous - but they couldn't have been more enthusiastic. So that's a very exciting prospect and I was pretty over the moon.

Angel winked at me a few times in that endearing way that all Grandpas seem to innately master. Not that he's Grandfather age quite yet, but it's the best way to describe it. And Luz insisted we take pictures to mark the occasion of our first meeting. After coffee, I'd already decided that I'd hit the jackpot with the two of them but in the car on the way back it just reached a whole new level of great. Angel revealed that he's a Newton Faulkner fan. I nearly fainted - to find someone who's heard of Newton in Spain is a rarity but to find someone who's a fan is nigh on impossible. And, if you didn't already know, let me tell you: I LOVE Newton Faulkner. Just as I'd recovered from the shock, he casually asked if I'd ever happened to see Bon Iver live at which point I lost all self control. He told me about seeing our beloved Justin Vernon and co live in Bilbao and said 'when you see them, they're so good, you freak completely out'. Too right. (We'd had to switch to English by this point because my broken Spanish didn't allow for the elation that I wanted to convey). I apologised for overreacting but he said he understood - that it must be like finding a piece of home away from home, which was spot on.

When I got home, I had an email from him inviting me to dinner with his family. He signed it off 'Viva Bon Iver!'. What a legend.

So it's been a great day. Just great. And proves how first impressions can be deceiving, that good things come to those who wait, that patience is a virtue and don't judge a gift horse by the cover of it's silver lining. Or something.