Sunday again?!

Well I never, every time I turn around it's Sunday again! Time is bloody flying. Aside from an all day street party, a world-renowned film festival, a trip to Avilés and my seemingly relentless ability to cause awkward situations in the classroom, it's been a relatively quiet week and a half.

The street party type thing (known as an 'espicha' in Spain which I can only assume roughly translates as 'flipping massive booze up') took place last Friday. It was organised by the Chemistry faculty (again, what is it with the party animal scientists in Spain?!) and was held in the car park of the football stadium in Oviedo. We jumped on a bus in the early afternoon and arrived in Oviedo about an hour later. Beers in hand, we made our way towards the football stadium, following the streams of people heading in the same direction and the sound of booming music coming from somewhere just around the corner. Everybody was laden with plastic bags full of cartons of sangria, bottles of cider and massive plastic containers filled with calimocho - the coke and red wine mix. The real professionals even had bags of ice and plastic cups to boot. When we rounded the corner, we were greeted by the sight of hoards of people all stood around in groups drinking and dancing to the thumping beat. We found a spot, made a base camp of coats and bags and proceeded to get stuck in. It was great fun and we met more than a few hilarious characters. At one stage, many calimochos later, we were talking to a particularly sozzled guy who cut the conversation short because he realised he was going to be late for his exam. An exam that he had to pass to avoid being kicked out of university. He slurred a drunken farewell and we high-fived him for good luck and off he trotted. Classic Spain. Many hours of dancing, wandering, socialising, cider-drinking and attempted Spanish-speaking later, we got on the bus back home. It was a good day. 

We've also been getting our culture on at the Gijón film festival. The festival was running all week, with various venues across the city and countless films on offer all for the low low price of 3.50 a go. Sadly we weren't able to immerse ourselves in the world of independent film quite as much as I would have liked due to clashing timetables and inconvenient bus schedules but we did what we could. On Tuesday we saw a program of short films with offerings from every corner of the globe. They were all pretty fantastic and we left the cinema with a lot to talk about and mull over, feeling decidedly cultivated. Then on Thursday, we went to see the second round of shorts but the experience was slightly different. The running theme seemed to be cliff-hangers and ambiguity, which aren't things I cope with very well because my imagination goes flippin' mad. Then there was this: http://vimeo.com/19175852 to which I can't add much further comment. As we left the cinema we saw one of the directors stood wearing a beret and thick-rimmed glasses and a leather satchel leaning against a wall (and not doing anything at all to dispel the 'arty person' stereotype). It was an opportunity I couldn't resist. I led in with a "Hi...! um... your film... was... I mean, like, it was... um... like, we were just wondering about... I mean, what was the message... overall... do you think? Umm... yeah"  Star of the stage in the making? I think not. But we managed to recover from my shambles of an intro and ended up having a good little chat with him. After a quick wine break, we returned to the cinema to watch a feature length French animated musical called 'Lea magasin des suicides' about a little town so overwhelmed by depression that the most lucrative business is a shop offering different methods of suicide - satisfaction guaranteed or your money back. Despite the morbid premise, it was highly entertaining. We rounded off our film festival experience with a final program of shorts on Friday night, this time all Spanish-made. I learnt a few things, but mainly that Westerns is not a strong genre for the Spanish. Not strong at all.

School's been just fine. I've had a few awkward moments (though none even coming close to Rosie And Jim Gate, you'll be disappointed to hear). In an English lesson with the 4th year class I ended up adamantly insisting that, as a matter of fact, we certainly do refer to the weather as being 'soft'. This came about after a particularly nervous girl was berated rather severely and at length in front of the entire class for using 'soft' instead of 'mild' in her little speech about different climates. Suddenly I was inundated with flashbacks of feeling totally humiliated at school thanks to certain teachers and their intense love of the sound of their own voices. Before I knew it I was arguing a strong case for the flexibility of weather-related adjectives. The teacher gave me a strange glare and looked set to argue but eventually moved on, leaving the girl in peace. Clearly this isn't something I plan to make a habit of and in the long term it's probably not ideal that an entire class of Spanish students may now journey to London and comment on the 'softness' of the weather. But small victories are few and far between in the constant battle of the classroom.

The week was nicely rounded off by a night of mad dancing to Motown mash-ups and 80's power ballads in the basement of an Amsterdam inspired bar. And then the next day Jean and I treated ourselves to a four course lunch of typical Asturian cuisine before heading off on a trip to nearby Avilés to have a little wander round and visit Tom, a fellow Durham student who lives there. People in Gijón don't tend to speak very highly of Avilés for some reason but I think it's got quite a lot of charm. There's a lovely range of architecture and all the cafes and bars are very stylish and unique. Here's a little gem we found on a wall:

'In this house you will be able to eat, drink and enjoy yourself until your body and soul can take no more'

It's been a darned good week. And it's Monday again tomorrow. So here's to another week like the last!

X

Oh Spain...

Hello there.

I'm currently sat at home on a Wednesday morning when I should be at school because it's a 'huelga general' today, which means the whole country has gone on strike and everything grinds to a halt. Yesterday I read a poster plastered across the side of a building that read  'paramos todo para ganar el futuro'. This roughly translates at 'we're stopping everything to win the future'. So the logic is that having a day where the entire country comes to a standstill (even hospitals are running a 'limited service') is somehow an investment in its future and will help it recover from the pretty dire economic situation it's currently in. Oh Spain. There's still freedom of choice, of course... there'll still be the odd cafe open or the most conscientious of teachers turning up to class. But I get the feeling that the general attitude is 'well, if they're not working today, neither am I'. In that sense, it somewhat loses its sting as a politically driven power-to-the-people protest. When the students protested a few weeks ago, I asked one or two of the older ones why they'd decided the join the strike. Their response was generally "I don't know... because everyone else is." You'd hope that an answer like that could be put down to their age and their lack of political interest. But I genuinely don't believe that many adults would come up with much of a different answer today! Obviously there is a lot more going on than I could hope to understand and I don't mean to be too judgy, but come on Spain, get your act together. Right, just give me a second to climb down from my high horse...

School has continued to be entertaining and enjoyable. The other day I asked a boy what country was missing from the Union Jack and he replied with the Spanish for Wales, which is 'Gales' (pronounced gah-less). I asked him what the English word was and he confidently replied 'gays'. Haha. Then, in a history lesson I decided to show my 16 year olds the opening credits of Rosie and Jim as a very light-hearted way to introduce them to the topic of canals. I went to youtube, typed in 'Rosie and Jim opening credits' and showed the first video that came up without thinking twice. Everything was going fine, until 0:50. That's when I learnt a very valuable lesson about the dangers of flippant youtube viewing. I think my cheeks may only just have resumed their natural colour. See here for more details (PG viewing advised): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6SS5GxBu2oQ

Last week all of the language assistants in the vicinity had to attend a compulsory meeting along with our mentors and any other willing staff members from our respective schools. The meeting was run by the government people to talk to us all about different teaching techniques. It was a bit of shambles, to be honest. Its very existence caused no end of controversy because many assistants had to sacrifice giving private classes and earning money to attend the meeting (which was a casual three hours long). Considering our pay cheques are yet to arrive, this was a big ask. Jean, Laura, Tess and I managed to stroll in 40 minutes late after getting completely lost in the outskirts of the city, which kind of set the tone for the rest of the meeting. It seemed to be going okay - we were sat in groups, discussing teaching techniques and how to improve upon past experiences of other language assistants. But then one of the mentors (okay, it was my mentor) raised her hand and proclaimed that it was all well and good us talking about how perfectly the scheme could work but at the end of the day there's just no time to implement any of it. The government lady came back at her saying that the schools needed to have more of a can-do attitude. Then another male teacher joined in, telling her off for berating their attitude. Then this other government chick said that if the schools didn't want language assistants then they could pretty much piss off and pull out of the scheme altogether. Cue: chaos. I can't claim to have understood much of what was said. But I'm pretty sure that it was all rather pointless.

The weekend just gone was pretty awesome. On Saturday, we kicked off the day at an American style diner with burgers and pink lemonade. Then we took a trip the Gijón aquarium. I flipping love aquariums and this one was no exception. The attention to detail was amazing - bright orange sea cucumbers waving about in the midst of a shipwreck and giant spider crabs crawling around a fake whale skeleton. That sort of thing. We were like little kids, oohing and aahing at everything and getting totally over-excited by the sight of sharks and a giant turtle. At one point Jean spotted a moray eel hidden in a corner that will probably haunt my dreams for evermore. After the excitement of the aquarium, we went for a coffee and a spot of shopping  and rounded off the day with a girls evening of pizza, wine, Grease and dancing. On Sunday, we went for an evening of jazz at the Jovellanos Theatre, which was part of a jazz festival that's currently going on in the city. The events are somewhat elusive (classic Spanish organisation) but we'd just about managed to book tickets in the week. The band was great. They managed to fuse classic big band jazz with a hint of Latino and some heavily Asturian influences. It all felt very cultured. Then we went for some food and cider. Because no weekend in Asturias is complete without cider.

Overall, despite feeling a bit frustrated at times by the Spanish way of doing things, it's been a good week. For the food, the drink, the scenery and recreation, I wouldn't have it any other way. But when it comes to politics and organisation, I'd take good old British bureaucracy any day.

Hasta luego!

X

Brits behaving badly

Hola from Gijón! I feel as though it's been a while since I blogged and quite a lot has happened in the meantime but I'll try not to get carried away. But, as ever, no promises...

I'll start with the fun stuff. Us language assistants have had a few wild adventures in the last week or two - from getting en-masse piercings, to drinking one too many ciders and daring each other to 'down the cheeseboard' in exchange for a lap dance, to jumping in fountains at 5am. We've gone a bit wild. I've taken this as a sign that we're really beginning to settle in and feel comfortable in our surroundings. Perhaps we're just delinquents. Who knows. Last Friday four of us went to a massive shopping centre in Oviedo for a spot of retail therapy. To cut a very long story short, the trip culminated in us stashing a 6ft tall Ikea mirror behind a set of lockers at the bus station because we'd managed to miss the last bus home and the bloody thing wouldn't fit in a taxi. Jean 'Braveheart' Comrie popped back the next morning to retrieve it and nobody was any the wiser. On Saturday we decided, after a flipping awesome evening of cider and dancing, to go for a cheeky dip in the sea to round off the night. If you've never done it, I couldn't recommend it more highly. There's nothing quite like a near-skinny dip (it's was a tad too public and well lit for the full monty) in the middle of the night to make you feel alive.

Rest assured, though - it's not all been cider-fuelled madness. Tess gave us a lovely walking tour of Oviedo on Thursday evening, demonstrating her highly impressive wealth of knowledge of all things Asturias. We had chocolate and churros in a little cafe and I ended up bumping into another Durham student on his year abroad. Small world. Then on Friday three of us ventured to Ribadesella which is a beautiful little village about an hour and a half away from Gijón. Thanks to it not being high season any more, most of the tourist attractions were closed. But the sun clearly didn't get the memo so we had a full day of glorious November sunshine and wandered for hours taking in the views. It sort of summed up why Asturias is such a stunning and unique part of Spain - rolling hills and mountain ridges in one direction and miles of golden coastline in the other, all within walking distance. It would be more than possible to ski and surf on the same day come December although I might have to settle for ski and bodyboard - the less cool but far easier to master alternative.

School's been going really well. I mainly get sent to an empty classroom with a group of 8-10 students with the simple task of making them talk. Sometimes the teacher provides a vague lesson plan but most of the time it's total improvisation which is pretty nerve-wracking. Today I arrived in the classroom and Luz asked if I'd received her email with the lesson plan for the day. I told her I hadn't and asked when she'd sent it. She said 1:30. This conversation took place at 2. Classic Spain. There've been some beautiful moments over the last week or so - kids really do say the darndest things. Like this morning when an incredibly keen little bespectacled girl waved her hand in the air and said "May I take you a question?? Is real that English persons eat bacon and baked beans as breakfast?!?" When I told her that, yes, we're pretty partial to the odd fry up she nearly passed out with excitement. Or last week when two of the girls took it upon themselves to transform a simple dialogue of a man and woman in a restaurant into a highly melodramatic interpretation of what would happen if Justin Beiber fell in love with Paris Hilton.

I've been taking full advantage of offers to go for coffee with various groups of teachers. The offers usually come when I'm on my way back to the staff room from lessons. Just as I reach the threshold, a teacher will brush past my and say "Hey, wanna come for a coffee?" And I've set myself the challenge of always saying yes. Even when I'd really prefer to just go hide in a dark corner of the room and avoid any sort of human contact, never mind prolonged interaction with speakers of a different language, I grit my teeth, smile politely and turn on my heel. So far, it's been worth the effort. The teachers are all great fun and I get a really good insight into the workings of the school. Never mind the fact that it's really the only Spanish practise I get day to day! It scares me how much they talk about the kids... the staff room really isn't any different to the playground in terms of bitchiness. I dread to think what our teachers had to say about us at good old Portsmouth High School.

Today marks 9 weeks since I left England, which is pretty darned scary when I think about it. 9 weeks has been enough to get used to the food, the daily routine (eating lunch at 3 and dinner at 10... that sort of thing) and the general pace of life here but I'll be darned if I ever get used to not being able to buy a pack of wotsits as and when the craving hits me or turning on the radio and hearing nothing but Gangnam Style or Call Me Maybe.

X