Back into the swing of things

Here's some things I'm learning about teaching: the better you know the kids and the more prepared you are for a lesson, the more enjoyable it is. Hideously obvious observations, I know. But in the last week or so I've had some of my favourite lessons so far thanks to these simple facts.

I gave a lesson on different genres of music the other day. At the beginning of the class I asked them to think of their favourite group or artist and tell us about them. One little boy, an incredibly intelligent, sensible and bespectacled individual, explained that music does not appeal to him whatsoever. In fact, he hates it all. It's not worth his time. What about classical music, I asked him (stereotyping, I know, but I thought it was worth a try) but he remained adamant that music is just not his thing. So imagine my surprise when, 20 minutes later and by some a curious chain of events, I found myself watching that self same boy standing at the front of the entire class, gyrating his hips and waving his hands in the air whilst rapping a Spanish translation of Gangnam Style as his classmates all clapped and whooped along. I'm still not sure quite how it happened. But it was fantastic.

In Art the students are well under way with a project about British culture. The Spanish education system doesn't often employ the method of project work so I think it took them a while to get their heads around the concept. But I think they're now starting to enjoy it and get stuck in. They're split into different groups, each with a different topic to focus on ranging from The Royals to teenage fashion. Every class, I end up with a little queue of students waiting to ask me for an obscure fact or figure... "Teacher, one question - how many H&M shops is in London?" "Excuse me, can I make a question? How much it cost fees to Eton school?" "Sian, tell me please, how you make mushy peas?" At first, I'd turn to my best friend the interent to provide them with their answer. But as time went on, and I'd stared at the google search bar so much that it was still there when I blinked, I starting turning to my second best friend: guessing an answer and saying it with so much confidence that they think I know what I'm talking about. I'm still not sure whether to feel guilty about this or not.

Living in the centre of the city is continuing to be brilliant. I've been running along the seafront not once, but twice in the last week. Two whole times. Twice. To put this into perspective, that's more runs than I went on in my entire first year at Durham. And on Saturday I was able to pay back everyones hospitality and host a few quiet drinks in the flat with our new Spanish friend, Bruno. The tipple of choice was Calimocho and Bruno introduced us to a game which involved trying to bounce pennies into cups. My lack of depth perception did not hold me in good stead. It was excellent fun and by the time we left the flat in search of a boogy, we were all suitably squiffy. And speaking of beverages of the alcoholic variety, we've recently stumbled across an excellent little cocktail bar with a slightly pricey but exhaustive menu of superb cocktails. It takes them about 5 minutes to make each one, but in my mind that means they must be experts. The first time we were there, a bottle of cava arrived at our table, sent by some other customers who were just feeling generous. I thought that sort of thing only happened in films. It's my new favourite bar.

The whole speaking Spanish thing is still causing me all manner of problems. The other day, I went into a cafe and asked for a chicken sandwich (un bocadillo de pollo) and received a cup of tea (un te). Now, I know I have an accent. But, quite frankly, that's just taking the piss. Then, in one of my private lessons the other day, little Rodrigo was writing a description of his Mum. He asked me what a word meant and I told him it meant heavy. So he wrote 'My mum is quite heavy, but that's okay with me' which I thought was pretty strange but then again Spaniards are much more to the point so I didn't question it. Later, I discovered that the word for 'heavy' is used in a more figurative sense to mean 'strict'. Oops. At least I'm learning!

The breaking news of the week is that, what with Bath being slightly closer to Spain than Canada, I will be receiving a very special visitor on Tuesday from all the way across the pond. And I can't flipping wait. Hoorah. 

X

I'm baaaack!

Time flies when you’re having fun. Too flipping right. Just over a week ago I was sat in my kitchen, eating a delicious steak and drinking a delicious wine like it was the norm but now, quicker than you can say ‘paella’, I’m back in Spain (albeit drinking a delicious cup of tea and eating an equally delicious Thorntons chocolate - thanks Mum x). My 2.5 weeks at home were pretty darned fantastic. The highlights included… Cabaret the musical, ice-skating at the Natural History Museum, a mulled-wine fuelled Christmas party, Christmas Day, ice-skating in Bath, Hogmanay in Edinburgh, an incredible surprise trip to London see Les Miserables, winter walks, curries, pubs, friends, family and good old fashioned British fun. To put it plainly, I was spoilt. And it made it all the harder to get on that plane back to Spain.

BUT, now that I’m back, there are plenty of good things to say about it. For those of you who don’t know, I’ve moved to a new flat in the centre of Gijón to be closer to the action and to live with Spaniards (apparently, this language ain’t gonna learn itself) and so far its proven to be a great decision. The flat is in a fantastic location. I can walk out of my front door and be on the beach within 30 seconds. Naturally I plan to make the most of this with a bracing early morning dip in the sea every day. Ahem. I don’t have to catch a bus anywhere which means more freedom and, most importantly, no kerfew. The other night we had a little gathering at Eric’s flat to take advantage of his 11-storey-high view overlooking the sea and it was so relieving and refreshing to not worry about missing the last bus home or rely on someone to lend me a bed or a couch! My room is pretty lovely too (that is, after parting with quite a hefty wad of cash in IKEA). And what’s more, encouraged by the freedom of my own kitchen, I cooked my first ever Spanish tortilla the other day. And no one died as a result. Hoorah.

My first 24 hours back on Spanish soil did nothing to assuage my fears that the ol’ Espanol may have gotten a bit rusty after a few weeks of Anglo immersion. I caught the bus from the airport to the city centre and upon arriving I went to retrieve my luggage from the luggage hold under the bus. My hand luggage had slid to the other side of the bus, resulting in me crawling right into the hold to reach it. The bus driver saw my plight and cheerily remarked “You poor thing! Having to do that” I went to reply, wracking my brains for a generic “It doesn’t matter” style phrase and somehow settled on “Yo tampoco”. Which means “Me neither”. Excellent. And then at school the next day I was approached by a slightly eccentric staff member who insists on bringing  home baked goods into school every day. He wished me a Happy New Year and thrust a foil-wrapped piece of unidentifiable tart into my hand. And what did I say back? “Merci”. Merci?!?! Seirously?!? I haven’t had so much as a lesson of French since I was 12 freakin’ years old!

My mentor, Luz, suffered a pretty nasty fall before Christmas so she’s off school nursing a broken leg at the moment and the main English teacher seems to have disappeared too which means I’ve spent the majority of my week with a new teacher called Natalya, whose English is pretty astounding. She sounds like Mary Poppins. It’s hilarious and wonderful all at the same time. She had no clue who I was or what I was meant to do so I briefly explained that, depending on the teacher and how they want to utilise me, I range from being a walking dictionary, pronunciation guide, conversation assistant, history expert, lesson planner, full blown teacher and everything in between. Which probably didn’t clear things up for her all that much.

I’m excited about this term and being able to make more of life in Spain now that everything is more familiar. I have a few plans up my sleeve - mainly involving cider and making friends, nothing too strenuous. As hard as it was to leave home again, in a roundabout way I was reminded of the things I love out here too and found myself missing certain things about life in Spain (mainly the people, who I’m very glad to be reunited with!) PLUS there is a very distinct and exciting possibly of a visit from a certain person-who-was-in-Canada-but-is-now-back-home-in-Bath. And that's just great.

So, 2013, bring it on. 

X

Felices fiestas!

Here it is. My first stint on Spanish soil is coming to a close. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't itching to jump on that plane.

So far I've met some bloody fantastic people, I've started to really settle in at school and Gijón is feeling more familiar by the day. But Dorothy was right about home. For one thing, I feel as though my veins are currently flowing with bread, potatoes and ham... I've quite frankly forgotten what the colour green tastes like. And I've just about reached the end of the tether with the manners (or lack thereof) in Spain. Seriously, it is not acceptable to physically push someone out of the way in the street if you need to get by or to let go of a swinging door so that it knocks out the person behind you without a second glance or to stare at, gawk at and heckle young ladies as they walk by. Come on Spain. Seriously. I needed to get that off my chest.

On Saturday I went for a little hike in the hills with Tom from Aviles and a big group of his colleagues from school. I can't really have imagined a better way to spend my last Saturday in Gijón. We got on the coach at 9am and were dropped off somewhere in the outskirts of the city. We walked for a few hours and everyone mingled and mixed and chatted together, provideding me with the most Spanish conversation practice I've had so far. Eventually we reached a viewing point which allowed us to see out across the whole city. It was pretty spectacular. Bottles of cider and cava were cracked open and the first round of Christmas carols was kicked off, with the wind blowing around us and the city sprawled out below. Then we began the walk back down with the promise of a fantastic lunch making the perfect incentive.

Lunch did not disappoint. We started outside with copious bottles of cider and plates of absolutely yummy chorizo. We stood in groups with the men pouring the cider and handing out the glasses while everyone chatted and bonded. I already loved the social aspect of the Asturian cider but that scene definitely nailed it. Then we moved inside and were treated to a four course feast of traditional food from the region, all of which was spectacular. And as if we hadn't already been spoiled enough with local treats, at the end of the meal a group of 5 of the men and a few of the women formed something of a mini choir at the end of the table and started booming out folk songs and Christmas carols. Great food, drink on tap and spontaneous performance. I was pretty much in heaven. And then after lunch I went straight to Laura and Gemma's to get ready for our last night out on the taaaan!

The last couple of days in school absolutely flew by with me barely having a chance to warn the students that I wouldn't see them again until after Christmas. On Monday I had to take two consecutive classes on my own at very short notice which was pretty flippin' terrifying. I battled through, trying to fill as much of the time as possible talking about Christmas and to make it fun. Nothing seemed to float their boat though. I gave them a dramatic reading of 'Twas The Night Before Christmas, I sang Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer complete with jazz hands and I pranced about the room shouting lines from Elf. Nothing. You could practically see the tumble-weed rolling by and my already waning street credit plummeting ever lower. Hopefully over the Christmas holidays they'll forget how uncool I am.

And now I'm sat, all packed up, watching the minutes tick by and waiting until 11:40am tomorrow, when I will officially be on my way home. Huzzah.

Merry Christmas and felices fiestas!

X

The countdown begins...

In ten days time I'll be on a plane, winging my way back home. Let me tell you - I'm excited. 

In the meantime, Spain has provided a highly entertaining few weeks. At school I've been helping the students practice for their oral exams. Anyone who took a GCSE or A-level in a language will know the oral exam drill all too well and I have to admit they flipping annoy me. As far as I'm concerned, they're pretty much useless when it comes to developing fluency or any form of natural communication skills in the target language. To this day I can still remember by heart my in depth speech about the 2007 Ibero-American summit and its impact on international relations from my A-level exam. And yet I'm a stammering, mumbling wreck when it comes to ordering a coffee or buying a bus tickets. Anywho, one of the students was telling me all about his favourite holiday destinations. He was very enthusiastic, especially when it came to explaining why he loves Portugal and its beautiful beaches. Unfortunately the Spaniards have an issue when it comes to making the 'ee' sound. So his speech went something like this: "My favourite place in the world is Portugal because of all the beautiful bitches. I just love all the bitches in Portugal. When I go there, I visit the bitches every day". To my shame, I started to laugh. Then I started to cry with laughter. Then I started to nearly choke with crying with laughter. I'm still laughing about it now. Just call me Sian 'Professional' Green.

Last Thursday I turned 22. It pains me to see that in writing. 22 is an adult age. So to mark the occasion we went to a jazz gig at a local bar to have a few drinks and maybe grab a bite to eat. Sounds mature, eh? Jean and I started the night with a Baileys and some 90s pop in her flat then we headed out to meet the others. Sadly, when we arrived it was already jam packed with people so after a few beers and a very cramped 10 minutes of jazz-filled-fun, we had to abandon the bar in search of roomier climes. We went to grab some tapas and had a bottle of table cider and then we found a bar with a Native American theme, which we just couldn't resist. At this point, all hopes of a mature, adult celebration were abandoned and instead, we found ourselves downing tequila shots, imitating pigeons, playing the ugliest-photo-you-can-manage game and playing ring of fire. Sensible fun is great, but every once in a while silly fun is fantastic too. And, hey, if you can't get a little squiffy and silly on your birthday, when can you! I was totally overwhelmed with the birthday love that flooded in from across the sea - cards, presents, lovely messages and TWO birthday videos. Thank you all, you lovely people. So, another year older but no wiser.

The next day I caught a bus to Navia to visit the ever wonderful Miss Essex Nel. On Saturday night we went out in Ribadeo and had some flipping amazing pulpo (octopus) and spoke lots of Spanish. In fact, it may well have been the most Spanish I've spoken in a concentrated period of time since arriving. It hurt my head but it felt good to actually get some practice in, seeing as that's sorta why I'm here and all. On Sunday we went for a romantic stroll along the river and to the beach, went for a coffee and then back to Alex's flat where we watched the Gavin and Stacey Christmas special and mince pies (at which point the home-sickness reached an all time high). 

I reluctantly waved goodbye on Sunday evening but we were safe in the knowledge that in a mere four sleeps we'd be reunited and on our way to a mini-break in Salamanca with Jean. I dare say Salamanca is one of my absolute favourite cities ever. It has a perfect balance of atmosphere, history, culture and night-life all packed into a city that's small enough to travel entirely by foot but big enough to provide you with plenty to do for a long weekend. We arrived at our hostel on Thursday evening and went straight out to get a taste of the city and make plans. Over the three days, we managed to do everything on our list - the Roman bridge, the cathedral towers, the casa de las conchas, the art deco museum, the civil war museum, a gin exhibition and a visit to a convent to name the main events. Add to these a couple of excellent nights out on the town, coffee breaks, chocolate and churros and a friendly Cuban waiter called Orlando and you have yourself a recipe for a winning weekend away. I would highly recommend Salamanca to anyone who has the inclination to go. I reckon my favourite thing about the city is the Plaza Mayor, which  is truly stunning and always buzzing with life and atmosphere.

It was hard to leave on Sunday, I'll tell you that for true. But I suppose that's the sign of an weekend incredibly well spent! 

And so another week of classes begins. Last week it was confirmed that I can definitely start giving drama classes as of 2013, which is very exciting indeed. So on Wednesday I'm meeting with the lady in charge of extra-curricular activity at the school to discuss plans. Based on my school experiences to date, I am currently crossing every bone in my body that, for just one hour of the day, I can manage to present myself as a mature, responsible and capable human being. If you have a spare couple of fingers to cross, I'd much appreciate it. 

Hasta luego!

X

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