No! Mute!

A story from my Spanish high school.

I was in one of the English classes when the students, the teacher and I started talking about how someone can't hear and being deaf. Then one of the students mentioned that when you are deaf, you are also usually 'mudo.' You can't speak. (This conversation was in Spanish.)

Another student asked the English teacher, "Teacher, how do you say 'mudo' in English?'

He went to the board and wrote it down, and then asked me, "This is how you spell it, right?"

When I looked at the board and saw what was written, I practically fell off my seat. On the board the word written was: Dumb!

I started laughing, thinking it was a joke, but the teacher looked at me confused. "Deaf and dumb, no?" he asked, confused.

"No!" I said, horrified. "It's deaf and MUTE! Dumb means stupid."

The teacher was mortified. He couldn't believe it. Someone had taught him the saying, "Deaf and dumb" and that dumb meant mute. He was even more horrified when he remembered he taught the word mute as dumb to last years students.

Glad I'm here to clarify proper English!

Friends in High Places

Another story from Almorox at the elementary school where I worked at my first year in Spain.

One of the teachers came into school slightly shaken up. Apparently, he couldn't believe what had just happened to him. He was late for work and, since he didn't want his young students to wait for him, he started to speed. He looked at his rear-view window and what did he see? You guessed it! A cop. So he pulled over.

The cop came over and started asking him questions, carefully looking at him. Then, the officer, seeming to recognize him (though the teacher had never seen him in his life) pulled out a piece of paper. He scrutinized the piece of paper and then looked at him again. Then, he briskly folded up the paper, said, "Have a nice day, teacher", turned around and left.

He couldn't believe it. What exactly just happened?

Well, turns out that my elementary school has connections. And that connection is our Principal. Her father was the head of something or other of the police force and, though he's retired, he is still respected. And since he's respected, his daughter is respected as well. So, every school year, the Principal gives the police a list of all teachers' names and photos of that year so that if they are pulled over, they should not ticket them and let them go.

Do you believe it? Pays off knowing people in high places! Or at least family members in high places. Also, I wonder if this would works after school? It makes sense that the cops wouldn't ticket you when you are speeding TO work. But away? I doubt it!

And, since I'm writing about cops and teachers: One of the teachers told me that if I ever got pulled over, somehow slip in that I am a teachers. The police respect teachers and she said I am guaranteed not to get any type of ticket. Good to know!

Weddings

This is a blog that I wrote for my school. However, I really DID find this interesting so I posted it in my blog.

By the way, this explains a previous post "Useless Fact?? #3"
-------------------------

Yesterday, I learned something new. Something that shocked and surprised me. How can something that is so similar be so different? This surprise came when the teachers and I were talking about weddings.

Spain and the USA celebrate weddings in the same way. The bride and groom go to church, dressed in a suit and a beautiful white dress, exchange vows in front of a priest, give each other rings and finish with a kiss. Then, afterwards, there is a wedding reception where everyone eats good food, dances, and has fun till late at night.

You are probably wondering: where is the difference? And the difference is in how you PAY for the wedding!

I just learned that in Spain, guests give 'envelopes' to the bride and groom with money in it. Inside, there should be enough money to not only pay for your meal, but also some extra money for the new husband and wife. This means that the guests are the ones who pay for the wedding and, if there is enough extra, the honeymoon as well!

In the USA, we don't do that at all. Originally, the father of the bride pays for the wedding. Now, either the bride and groom pay for the wedding or the parents of BOTH the couple pay. And they pay for the whole wedding. That's right. The whole thing. Guests don't pay for anything. Instead, they give gifts (and the gifts are usually for the house). Some people may give money as a gift, but it's usually not enough to cover a meal and definitely not enough to pay for the wedding.

Thinking about it, now I understand why Spanish weddings are so big. People would tell me how there were 300 or more people in a wedding. I thought that was really big since the average size of an American wedding is about 100 people. I always wondered how someone could afford to pay for all those people, and the answer is that they don't! The guests pay for themselves. Incredible!

Now my Spanish friends are joking, saying how I should get married in Spain because it would be cheaper for me. I might even get extra money! I told them that wasn't the case. If I married a Spanish man, my husband's family and friends would definitely pay for themselves. However, following American/Colombian custom, I'm definitely paying for my friends and family. Looking at the good side, at least my wedding will be 50% cheaper. ;-)

BRAzil

One of my students loves the Brazilian football team. So much he bought a sweater to show his support. And it looked like THIS!













As you can imagine, the moment I saw what was written on his shirt, I almost fell over. I went up to him and asked, "Do you know what your shirt says?"

And he confidently and proudly responded, "Brazil. It's my favorite football team."

"Well, your shirt literally says 'Bra'. Do you know what that means?"

He looked at me with confused eyes. What is this crazy English teacher talking about?

"Bra means 'sujetador' in English."

His eyes bulged wide open with surprise and then he blushed, looking embarrassingly down. However, soon after, a little small smile started to grow...

And ever since then, he wears this shirt with a lot more pride.

Viva BRAzil! :-)

P.S. I put a smiley face on his face to protect confidentiality, but the smile fits perfectly with his actual face expression.

The Grand Dragon?

I was sitting at the teacher's desk, writing notes, as I waited for my students to get their materials ready. One girl, sitting in front of me, opened her agenda and I saw this drawing:

First reaction: "OH MY GOD! She's part of the KKK! What should I do?"

One second later, second reaction: "Oooppss! I'm not in the States. I'm in Spain! And this isn't the Grand Dragon, the leader of the KKK. No. It's a Penitente and it's probably a drawing of her father."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I made the common mistake that the usual American would make in Spain, though the mistake would usually occur during Semana Santa, or Easter Week, and not during the middle of January. Because, during Semana Santa, los Andaluces, or the people from the south of Spain, hold Processions. Groups, usually from a specific church, get together, wear those KKK looking outfits, and march through the city. Some play instruments in the band, some carry super heavy statues on their shoulders or on the back of their neck, and some just march. They usually march for approximately 6 hours, though some march up to 24 hours! They are Penitentes and they are sinners. They cover their faces because of the shame of their sins, and they do all that marching for penitence and for forgiveness of their sins.

So, if you are in Spain and you see a KKK figure running around, DON'T PANIC! It's not the KKK looking to lynch someone. It's probably some Spanish guy looking for his Procession. And anyway, the Spanish people only know the KKK from American movies. They wonder why the KKK copied their outfits...


Pictures of Semana Santa, 2009





The closest group of Penitentes that had the colors of a nomal KKK outfit. Most groups have different colors, like blue or purple.











These are the statues the Penitentes carry. They are under the statues and they carry them on the back of their necks.

My Busy Summer Vacation

So it seems I'm not the best at updating my blog, but once in a while is OK, no? Here is a blog entry I wrote for the children of my school. Thought it was a good summary of my summer. :-)

--------------

This summer, I did quite a bit of traveling. So much that I don't want to see a plane for a very long time! But what exactly did I do? Here's a basic summary of my international summer vacation. (If you'd like to follow the places I've been, scroll down to the bottom of the page and see the maps.)

First, I left Spain and flew into West Palm Beach, FL. That's where my parents live. I enjoyed swimming in the pool, taking boat trips into the ocean, and eating good American food with the great company of my parents. I was lucky because my aunt from Colombia was also visiting so I had a chance to see her too.

Since I hadn't seen my twin sister in months, I decided to visit her in San Francisco! I've never been there so I was very excited. I did quite a lot of tourism including seeing the Golden Gate Bridge, the impenetrable prison Alcatraz, and visiting Muir Woods with its gorgeous ancient old trees. Also, my sister's boyfriend works for Pixar so I was able to go on an exclusive tour through the studio. How lucky! It was a great trip.

I returned to Florida but soon after, I flew into Washington D.C. to visit my very close friends. Have you ever heard of the saying, 'The more things change, the more they stay the same'? Well, this was definitely the case for me. I hadn't seen my friends in about two years, and though they had changed (new jobs, marriage, some with babies!), they had also stayed the same. When I visited them, it was as if I had never left. What great fun!

Then I flew back to Florida to spend some more time with my parents. However, at one point, I had to return to Europe so I said my good-byes and flew into Milan, Italy (with a quick stop at Madrid). My older sister, who lives in Milan, had two big things happening in her life: She was moving into a new apartment and she was getting married! So I flew over to help her move and organize her wedding. It was a lot of work. However, her apartment looks great and the wedding was AMAZING! The ceremony was held in Stresa, a cute medieval town north of Milan. She also got married in a castle overlooking the lakes. It was a Colombian-Italian-American wedding. We ate great food, Italian style, and at night we danced Colombian style! It was a lot of fun and I'm happy for the new member of my family, my brother-in-law Claudio.

But my sister's wedding was not the only wedding that summer. My cousin from Colombia was getting married... in Germany! This time, however, I didn't fly. Instead, the whole Colombian side of the family rented a van and we drove through Switzerland to a town north of Frankfurt, Germany. It took about 8 hours. My cousin from Colombia was getting married to a German. It was a civil ceremony. They were married inside a tower in a German town filled with old colorful buildings. It was a very memoriable marriage and trip.

However, at one point I had to return to Spain and get back to work. So my family and I drove back to Milan, and then I flew into Madrid. PHEW!!! That's a lot of flying!

So I'm back in Spain, living in Linares and working in Bailén. In general, I had a wonderful summer with a lot of trips and exciting adventures. Though I love traveling, I am glad to be back in Spain where I can rest and take a break from all those plane rides. Till the next trip!


Below are some maps that show the places I've visted this summer:

Why I Love Spain

I wrote this blog for my school. I received positive remarks from my students, so I thought I'd share.

--------

This is my second year living in Spain and I'm considering staying another year. When people hear this, both Spaniards and others ask me the same question: 'Why?'

Why do I love Spain? I have given many answers. I've said how I love Spanish food, including paella, croquetas and salmorejo. I really like eating tapas. Going out with friends and eating different foods, sitting out on a terrace and people watching... there's something very relaxing about it, especially in the warming days of Andalusia.

Perhaps it's its history. From Moors conquering Spain, to Napoleon and Franco, to the present Spain, this country has a complex past. Traveling through the Iberian Peninsula also reflects this complicated history, from Cadiz to Merida to the region of Asturias (to only name a few). All of them are beautiful cities with a lot of ancient stories to tell.

Or maybe it's as simple as the vacations. In Spain, you get minimally 1 month of vacation. In the United States, in average, you start with 0 hours of vacation and you build 1.5 hours every 2 weeks. It takes a long time to build up a good vacation. But perhaps their attitudes towards their vacation reflects something more. Something that is found deep withing the Spanish culture. It's an attitude. A belief. It is hard to pin down but the closest I've come to describe it is: 'They work to live, not live to work.'

All of the above are good reasons and definitely play a factor in my liking of Spain. But the real and ultimate reason why I love Spain is its people. I can't really describe why they are so great. I can say they are fun, friendly, open, caring, fiery people. They seem to really appreciate life. I think that's why I keep staying here. Because I love the Spanish way of life, the people, and its culture. I learn from them and I feel that in Spain, I truly enjoy my life to the fullest.

A Nose by any Other Name...

A few weekends ago, I went to Granada with my roommate to visit a friend. We hit the bars that night and much later, decided to get a kabob. As we walked in, a man sitting on a bar stool and eating a gyro looked at my friend quite intensely. He started talking to us about how pretty her nose was (which was cute, small and perky). He kept staring at it and just couldn't keep his eyes off it. He even tried to touch it! Of course, this freaked my friend out and she quickly left the establishment.

I, on the other hand, was determined to get my gyro no matter what weirdo was around, so I stayed in line. Plus, he wasn't harassing my nose, was he? (Not cute enough for you, huh? Bastard. ;-) ) However, I had the honor of talking to his friends who somehow found out about my Colombian heritage and asked me about cocaine and if Colombians lived in trees. (Great catches, these boys.) Then, two other girls walked in and the guy stared at their faces too. He commented on how these girls must have had nose jobs. I looked at their noses and they too were small, cute and perky. The girls, understandably, were weirded out and said no, that they were natural and ignored him.

As I grabbed my gyro, I admit I was fascinated. I've never met anyone who was so mesmerized by noses. He didn't just stare and talk about them. He tried to feel them too! Even when it was obvious the girls didn't want to be touched. Very strange behavior.

Then it hit me. This guy had a nose fetish! Isn't that crazy? I've never met anyone with a nose fetish before. Feet? Yes. Belly buttons? Sure. But noses? Never! It was quite exciting.

And you know what the irony was about this whole scene? He had a HUGE nose! HA!

Ah well. To each his own! :-)

Why Spain Needs English Teachers

I was walking around, clothes shopping when I saw this written on a sweatshirt.






(In case you can't read it, it says, "I <3 Schol", not school.)


Once I saw this, I knew. Spain definitely needs me and English teachers like me!

I'm happy to help. :-)

The Red Head

I wanted to write this story for quite some time. It happened at the elementary school I worked at last year.

In the first grade class, there was this cute little red head boy. He was quite a spunky fellow who was always the first to volunteer for any activity, holler whatever English words that would pop into his head, and dance and do spins on the ground whenever hip hop was played. He was also the first to throw up his hands in despair and give up. Quite a rumbustious personality. I liked him.

On this supposedly normal day, he had been complaining about a stomach ache. He would hold his stomach painfully and walk around like an old man. As the rest of the class worked on their projects, he would sit in his chair in quiet misery, staring numbly down at his desk. The teachers had wondered if they should send him home and ultimately decided to wait till recess, because 'recess cures almost all illnesses'. Still, I kept watching him from the corner of my eye, making sure he was alright. He pretty much just stayed quiet (which was quite abnormal for him).

About halfway through the class, his face suddenly lit up. He got really excited, ripped a small piece of paper from his notebook and wrote something feverishly on it. Then, grabbing the paper with his two hands, he raised it up into the air and, with a desperate look in his eyes, stared pleadingly up at the ceiling. Then, he quickly slammed this piece of paper on his forehead. He'd leave it there for a moment, then smack his head a couple of times with it and raise it up into the air again and continued to stare up into the sky. He did this a couple more times.

I couldn't hold on to my curiosity any longer so I walked up to him and asked, 'What are you doing?' He gave me this dirty look and shot one finger at me, silently telling me not to interrupt. I waited and continued watching him smack his head some more. Then, the bell rang. Recess time! So he jumped up with the rest of his class and ran out of the classroom.

I was left dumb struck, stunned by the spectacle as well as the sudden end of it. What exactly just happened here? Then I noticed that he had left the small piece of paper on the table. I picked it up and read it. It said:

'Dios, por favor cure.'

'God, please heal.'

Do you believe it? The red head was praying for God to cure him! But not in the normal let's-put-our-hands-together-and-pray. No, not for this boy. Instead, he choose to write it on a piece of paper and smash it on his head. It was great!

When I told the story to the other teachers, they obviously laughed. The Religion teacher said she was proud. He'd learned to ask God for everything.

As for the kid, I'm not sure if praying that way helped, but he made it through the day. As for me, I now have a memory that makes me laugh every time I think about it. And I also have something that reminds me of him... I kept the note. :-)

A Greeting from the New Auxiliar

I am now in Linares, Spain working at a middle school. My supervisor wanted me to introduce myself and write something on a blog. Here is what I wrote.

-----

Only silence greeted me as I walked through the empty halls of Hermanos Medina Rivilla. I strained my ears, trying to hear any sound and only heard the almost inaudible murmurs of voices behind closed doors. Suddenly, a loud alarm filled the air, breaking the silence. I had the impulse to sprint through the double doors and run outside to safety, as far away from the boomerang-shaped building as possible. I expected to hear screams of panic as I imagined hundreds of students run through those same doors. However, instead, I heard screams of joy. It’s time for recesses! And I think, “Note to self: Another difference between Spain and the States. Their ‘change classroom alarm’ sounds like America’s fire drill alarm.”

I was asked to write on this blog and tell a little about myself, my past experiences, and what I think of this school. I guess I should start by introducing myself. My name is Melissa and I am an Auxiliar de Conversación in the I.E.S. Hermanos Medina Rivilla (a middle school for the Americans reading this blog) in the town of Bailen. I am from the United States and lived in the city of Washington D.C. (as the children excitedly say, “The White House!” and “President Bush!”). When I said ‘lived’, as in the past tense, I really mean it. I haven’t lived in D.C. for almost a year and a half. The reason is that last year, I was also an Auxiliar in Spain in the tiny town of Almorox, outside of Toledo. As I said, I now live in Linares which has about 60,000 inhabitants. Almorox had about 2,000. For me, Linares is New York City!

Though I taught in an elementary school last year, I am now going to teach teenagers. Though this seems like a daunting prospect to some, to me it doesn’t bother me at all. I’ve had plenty of experience with teenagers, especially as a Director of Volunteers in the States. And anyway, I’ve always liked teenagers. I look forward to working with these teens and I am already amazed at their high level of proficiency in English. They are enthusiastic and energetic students, and I am honored in being able to take part in their growth and development in this language.

A big thanks to Miguel Angel for all his support! :-)

Poland Notes

As I sat at the airport in Warsaw, Poland at 3am, leaving my 1 month adventure in this beautiful country, I wrote some notes in my little notebook. They are quick scribbles and are my general impressions of Poland- things that for some reason or other have stuck out in my mind. There is probably a lot more I could write. I do not go in depth with what happened in the camp, the kids, the teachers, the trips, and the guests that I met during that time. That in itself is its own story. I only write my general impressions of this country. Please note that these are my opinions and nothing more. To make your own impressions, visit the country(then we can compare notes!).

Here is what I wrote, in no specific order:

(Below, I've written my notes in bold. The rest is a little extra info. )

-No highways. All small bumpy roads: The kids and teachers were embarrassed by their roads. They would shake their heads disapprovingly and say, "These Polish roads." Personally, I liked it. I thought it added personality to the country. Reminded me of Colombia. Except Colombia's roads are much worse-instead of bumps, there are freaking holes.

-Breakfast, Dinner = Same Food: For both meals, we were always served: bread, butter, jelly, cucumbers, tomatoes, red peppers, ham, and hard boiled eggs. Always. For 30 some days. It became a little tyring, especially for dinner, so we would eat out. We found great kabobs, pizzas, and hamburgers (great balanced meals! ). I never want to see cucumbers again.

-Lunch-SOUPS!: I have to admit, I LOVED the soups of Poland. They were amazing! I really need to learn how to make those soups. The next plate was usually some type of meat with cabbage or carrots, or both. And let's not forget the potatoes. They love their potatoes. (My roommate, "You guys definitely like your potatoes." Student, "It is like bread to us." Oh so very true! )

-Vodka (pronounced vudka) and Beer (Pivo): Spaniards like their Sangria and Calimochos. Italians like their wine and limoncello. Polish people's drink is vodka and beer. I would get an interesting reaction from different Pole's when I would say how Pole's like to drink vodka. Their response was almost always, "We don't drink as much as the Russians!" Is this true? Probably, but I'm not sure. Guess I'll have to go to Russia to find out!

-Don't like Germans and Russians: They really don't. And the truth is, I don't blame them. Before you judge their anger, do research in their history. I did and, honestly, I can't blame them.

-Most men, shaved heads: I can't believe how many buzz cuts I saw out there. It's the style most men have. Not many other boys had different hair styles. Not my favorite cut what-so-ever, but my roommate LOVED IT. Guess there's something for everyone!

-Houses: Colorful with extremely steep roofs. I saw the roofs and thought, "Oh boy! It really snows here!" From what I hear, they have 6 month winters. That's why I told my students I could never live in Poland because of the cold. But I could definitely visit in the summers!

-Communism's Influence: You walk around and you can see communism's influence. All apartments look the same-cold, old, cement blocks. Tiny cars. Heavy looking street washing machines. You can see the influence of it.

-Nature: Poland is filled with beautiful green forests. We went to Zakopane and that was truly spectacular. Mountains, trees, rivers, lakes. And everything so fresh. You could tell you were breathing in pure, fresh air. I definitely remember Poland for its nature.

-And ultimately, the sweet, kind people: They are truly great and wonderful people. When the students asked me what my impression of Pole's were, I told them what I just wrote- sweet, kind people. And then I told them that there is something more... something that I really couldn't describe without getting... well... poetic, I guess is the word. They asked me to say it anywayz and I said, "You guys have a light. It is not a white light, but a warm light that radiates from all of you. A sweet, calming gentleness that -radiates- from you. I don't know how else to describe it." They smiled and said, "Poland likes you, too."

Thanks! :-)

Kid Love... AGAIN?!?

I'm in Poland where I'm teaching kids from middle school to high school. Their ages range from 13 to about 18 years old. This story involves one of my 15 year old classes.

It was the first time I met them and so I decided to play an introductory game. They made a circle with their chairs and faced each other with one student left standing in the middle. That student says, "I like.... (soccer, sun, etc)." and then the children who like the same things have to jump up and try to sit on another chair. The last person standing has to start the game over again.

I started the game and we started having a good time, laughing and running around (I like to play with the kids so the kids can learn a little bit about me too). Then, a boy with super short brown hair and blue eyes ended up having to stand up. He turned around and without any hesitation, looked me straight in the eyes and said "I like... YOU."

In my head, I was like, "HUH?!?!?"

But I couldn't just stare at him, dumb founded with my mouth wide open. So I jumped up and said, "Thank you." (though inside I was like, "WHAT DO I DO?!?!?!?").

The other kids were whispering to each other, staring at me and at the kid. You could tell in their eyes what they were thinking: He's got GUTS to say something like that! I had to respond and respond quickly. But what do I say?

And out of nowhere (and I'm not sure where it came from), I turned around, put my hands on my waist, and said, sounding insulted, "Hold on a second. Is he the ONLY ONE that likes me?!?"

The kids all stood up and changed seats.

It was GREAT! And like the other teachers said, "You sure got out of that one!" PHEW!

Kid love... again?!?!?! I thought Salvador was enough. Ah well... What can you do? We'll see how the rest of the month goes!

Update

I have to apologize for my lack of updates on my blog. I'd like to blame the lack of Internet access in my little pueblo of Almorox, but I did stay in Milan for a little while with Internet access and still didn't get around to it. All I can do is say, "Sorry!!" And to give you a quick update on what's going on.

At the end of May, I ended the program in Almorox, Spain. I said bye to the kids, the teachers I worked with, my roommates, and Castilla-La Mancha. It was so sad! And I will miss that little pueblo. It was a great experience!

Once I moved out, I flew to Milan where I hanged out with my sister for about 3 weeks. I pretty much rested and had GREAT Italian food (my favorite! :-) ).

After that, I went to visit my friend Gerrit in Germany for a week. He invited me to visit him and took me all over Germany, from Berlin to Dortmund and Hamburg. I also had a chance to see some family. It was great!

Then, I went to Pamplona, Spain for the Running of the Bulls! That was crazy in itself and quite a lot of fun. Los Sanfermines have always been a great party. We had a blast!

And now, I am in Poland (I'm keeping busy in my summer in Europe!). I applied to an ESL Program where I teach English for 3 weeks and in the end, they pay for a one week tour around Poland. It has been quite an adventure, learning about a new culture that I don't know anything about. All I know is that the kids I work with are GREAT!! They seem genuinely interested in what I'm teaching them and are just good kids. I've been here for approximately four days and it has already flown by. I have a feeling that this month is going to go by as quickly! :-)

That's the update! I will try to update more often, though it is not easy for me to find Internet access here as well. I will do my best! :-)

Ciao!

Baila el ChikiChiki (Dance the ChikiChiki)

In Spain, there is a wave of… something… going on. A craze? A fad? I’m not sure. But what I do know is that people are dancing, singing, and even making commercials of it. In Spain, the ‘Baila el ChikiChiki’ has consumed everyone.

Not just the young and defenceless. No. E-V-E-R-Y-B-O-D-Y! Old and young alike. Short and tall. With rhythm and without. Why, even my supervisor has been inflicted. At a wedding, he dressed up as a girl (pretty normal here in Spain) and, with his friend being the lead singer, sang and danced the ChikiChiki, twists and all.

It's like the new Macarena.

And it haunts me. I find it everywhere I go. Turn on the TV, a cell phone commercial sings the steps on signing up to their services. At work, every time I say 'Uno,' the children simultaneously break into song. (And you won't believe this!!! I'm writing this blog right now and the kids in the next class are singing it!) And even in travels, on the bus, they play it. And, of course, everyone joins in. They even made a CD with different versions of the song (example: ChikiChiki Rap version, ChikiChiki Techno version, ChikiChiki House version, etc).
And yes, I’ve been afflicted too. I couldn’t escape. When the songs plays, I sing. When it is time for the steps, I dance.

My name is Melissa and I have joined the millions of children and adults sing and dance the ChikiChiki. ¡YO BAILO EL CHIKICHIKI!

To see where this movement came from, please check the original video. You'll be shocked, maybe moved, but in the end, you'll end up liking it, if not dancing to it! Enjoy! :-)

http://youtube.com/watch?v=74mBEXL9UgM

Talent Show!

My elementary school decided to have a talent show. To represent my country, I taught some teachers how to Country Line Dance! Then we showed it to the school. Here are the results, bloopers and all. Enjoy! :-)

P.S. I know that this is the Electric Slide with Boot Scootin' Boogie, but hey! In Spain, who is really going to know the difference and, in the end, what matters is that we had a BLAST! :-D

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDQFt141Xbk

Video #1: Alicante with the Girls

In one of my advetures, I went to Alicante with some friends. We climbed to the top of the castle and saw a GREAT view. So I had to make a video. Sadly, there is no sound (my camera doesn't record sound and I don't know why!) but we compensate for it! See if you can tell when we are saying 'Background' and 'Mediterranean Sea'! :-)


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXQ5lV5RFnM

Go Back To Your Country!

In my pueblo, and most of Spain, there is a mix of Spaniards and Moroccans. There are some Hispanic and Romanians mixed in there, but in general it is Spaniards and Moroccans. There is an obvious separation between these two races. The Moroccons are leaving their repressed country to look for a better life. Many Spaniards think they are just too many of them (they make about 40% of the population) and have an underlining fear that they'll take over some day. Because of this and other fears, there is very strong prejudice and separation going on, but that topic is for another blog. This blog, however, is about a British man. I’ve never met this British guy, but I couldn’t believe what happened to him. So I had to share his story.

In general, this British guy married a Spaniard and, like a lot of married couples, had a son. They lived in England for a little bit and for whatever reason, came back to Spain to live in the tiny pueblo of Almorox. Now their son goes to my school (and I get to speak English with him all the time! :-) ).

One day, the British guy went outside of his house and found a group of Moroccans. They started yelling something at him in Spanish, but he didn’t understand them at all. After all, Spanish wasn't his forte. So he turned to his wife and asked, “What are they saying?”

And she said, “They are telling you to go back to your country.”

He turned and looked at her incredulous. “What? No way. You must have heard them wrong. Listen to them again.”

“Ummm… They are definitely telling you to go back to your country.”

When I heard this story, I practically fell off my seat laughing! Moroccans, who are in general not welcomed in Spain, were telling the British guy to go home. I couldn’t believe it!

Guess they are at home enough to feel they can kick someone out.

And as for the British guy, well… I guess what they say is also true: What goes around comes around. :-)

Kids Say The Darnest Things #2

This story did not happen to me but to one of the teachers in my school. It is a little in the dark side, but what the kids say is interesting. This is what happened:

This teacher has one specific kid in class who has a LOT of troubles at home and has emotional problems. He gets psychological help, but this specific day seemed to be a bad day for him.

The teacher was lecturing and she happened to look over towards the kid. She saw him take his scissors (which are those baby-safe scissors) and start to pretend to cut his wrists, saying, “I’m cutting my wrists! I’m cutting my wrists!” Then he took his scissors and started stabbing himself in the stomach, saying, “I’m going to kill myself! I’m going to kill myself!”

And what do the kids around him say? Did they cry out for him to stop? Tell him not to hurt himself? Or let him know everything would be ok? We wish! Instead, they started saying things like: “You can’t KILL yourself that way!” “If you really want to kill yourself, you should jump out the window!” “Does scissors won’t kill you.” “Yeah. You need to use the teacher’s scissors! They will do the trick!”

…

…

So in the end, the kids gave him advice on how to kill himself. Isn’t that crazy?? Kids definitely say the darnest things!

(Again, he is getting help. Thankfully. He’s a good kid, but obviously in a lot of pain. Poor guy. :-/)

Backwards

Here, in Spain, I get the feeling that things are a little… backwards. When it is summer, grass and plants are all yellow and brown. In the middle of winter, everything is lush green. What in the world is going on??

I’m in the Twilight Zone. ;-)