Thoughts about May

I can’t believe its May already. I couldn’t believe it was March, or April and then suddenly here we are. May is my final month in Spain and it’s also the month I turn 21 so it’s simultaneously sad, exciting and strange.

This weekend I popped to Seville to see the Alcazar, a place I hadn’t visited but knew I needed to see before I left Spain. It was really, really beautiful, with sprawling gardens, fountains and courtyards. They use it as a location for the Game of Thrones TV series and you can definitely see why, it’s a magical setting and quite incredible that it all sits within a big city centre.

Unbelievably it was 40 degrees in Seville the day I visited. 40 degrees on the first of May, blimey. It was around 30 degrees on the first of November if I remember rightly, so I’ve probably had one of the shortest winters ever. I am now appreciating the perks of a Spanish apartment too. The white tiled floors may have been icy in winter but they now cool my feet all day long and it’s fabulous. Gone are the January days of me cursing the drafty windows and echoing rooms, mi piso was built for the summer and I now realise how great this is.

So, my final month in Spain will consist of a trip to Córdoba to see the famous los patios festival, a weekend in Granada – where I will celebrate my birthday in the beautiful Alhambra, then two final weekends of parties and goodbyes. I will be making the absolute most of the hot weather too because a British summer can’t always be relied upon.

**I’ll also be negotiating the cancellation of my wifi and phone contract, closure of my bank account, deep cleaning the apartment and packing my belongings into suitcases. I’ll then be lugging the contents of the past 8 months onto various modes of public transport before inevitably collapsing in a heap of emotion and exhaustion at Heathrow arrivals. But we won’t dwell on this.**

Time to enjoy the rest of the month!

Expectations

Back in January 2014 I attended a rowing ball with my boat club at Durham (yes it was as pretentious as it sounds). Unusually, to encourage mingling between members of different colleges, there was randomly allocated seating at this event. Now initially this situation filled me with great excitement at the prospect of being paired with a hunky oarsman who could later become my husband, passing his chiselled jaw line and natural athleticism to our future children (the dream lives on…). This expectation was soon dampened however, when the seat next to me was filled by a very posh, ponytail-wielding rower, who turned out to be a bit of an idiot. Despite immediate disappointment, I told myself that hairstyles were temporary and ploughed ahead with the small talk. We quickly covered the usual topics before moving on to discuss my impending year abroad.

The reason I’m telling you this anecdote is because when I mentioned I would be spending the Spanish part of my year in Extemadura, this boy, who we’ll call Charles, had a very strong opinion to declare. He raised his already up-turned nose a further two centimetres and loudly scoffed ‘That’s the ugliest of the Spanish regions, it has a bland landscape of nothingness and its not worth visiting at all’.

Now this was a bit of a conversation killer for me as I was soon to be not only visiting, but living in this ‘bland region of nothingness’ for a whole eight months. I didn’t bother asking, as I should have, just what evidence or experience qualified him to make that statement, instead I turned to focus on eating my garlicky chicken and wallow in self pity.

What Charles said went on to stay with me long after the garlic aftertaste that evening and I added his comment to my growing list of reasons to be anxious about my year abroad.

After living here for six months I can safely conclude that Charles was wrong. There are definitely more beautiful regions in Spain (the absence of a coastline is a bit of a downer) but Extremadura is still really, really beautiful. As I described in my previous posts about the waterfalls and cherry blossoms in Plasencia, the roman ruins in Merida, and the beautiful parts of my own town Zafra and nearby Badajoz. This region is actually really diverse, interesting and pretty. I am not sponsored by the local tourist board, but I have spent a lot of time in this part of the world and I now feel qualified to prove Charles, and anyone else wrong.

Yesterday for example I went for a hike with my friends and found fields and fields of wild poppies. The other beautiful thing is that the area is mostly untouched and sparsely populated, possibly due to Charles spreading his ill-informed message.

So, the moral of this story: DON’T trust men with ponytails and DON’T write off places before you visit for yourself. I hope you’re having a wonderful weekend!

Half way

It’s incredible to say that I’ve passed the halfway point of both my time in Spain and my year abroad as a whole. All in all, although of some individual days and weeks do drag (lessons with 15 year olds often feel like lifetimes of pain), it has gone really quickly. Over the past few months I’ve established myself as a private English tutor, I’ve become familiar with plumbing vocabulary and I’ve finally adapted to Spanish mealtimes. I have built solid friendships with the eight other language assistants here and I’ve made plenty of Spanish friends too. Bizarrely, one of my closest Spanish connections is a seventeen year-old student with whom I’ve bonded over a shared interest in Harry Potter and One Direction. My other closest connections are fellow teachers (mostly middle-aged) and my language-exchange partner Maria (aged 35), with whom I enjoy weekly cups of tea and life discussions. It seems that I have bypassed integration with people of my actual age and so the whole Spanish party lifestyle has alluded me so far. I’m very happy though and I always feel like my head is simultaneously younger and older than my 20 years anyway. Having said that, just last week I made a new friend – a 22 year old local girl called Ana, she invited me out with her friends and we were chatting in a smokey bar until 2.30am. Perhaps my granny lifestyle may be set to change after all!

In September I was really terrified to come here and the whole first term flew by in a blur of settling in and mild panic. I got through any moments of sadness with the thought of Christmas and my impending flight home. Luckily, since returning in January everything has seemed much more familiar and relaxing. I’m now witnessing lighter evenings, easier conversations and I’m enjoying everything a whole lot more. I’ve got through January and I’ve started planning trips for the remainder of my time here, I’m off to Madrid next weekend, Morocco the week after – it’s all going far too quickly.

Now though, for memory and comedy’s sake, let’s reflect on my lowest moments:

1. Tripping over and falling flat on my face in front of a group of students whilst on an afternoon jog. Knee severely grazed and pride dented.
2. The power cut in out apartment on cold November morning, which lead to icy showers and a day without internet (tragic).
3. Getting stranded on a broken down bus and watching in dispair as fellow passengers were, one-by-one, rescued by family/friends with cars. I had to wait for three hours with the driver and a few other abandoned folk, I cried silently and felt very abroad and alone.

However, as bad as these experiences felt at the time, they’re hardly terrible. I’ve had so much fun, so much sunshine and I’ve visited so many beautiful places. These can be summarized in the picture montage above.

Here’s to the rest of my time in Spain and thank you (once again) for following my year so far.

Happy things

Living in Spain is really fun. The traveling, the exploring and the adventures are obviously the most exciting part, but they don’t happen every day. I travel every few weekends, and that’s what the majority of my blog showcases. Most of my time is actually spent teaching in the school, tutoring in private lessons and attempting to feel at home in a region famous for iberian ham and bird watching.

My friends at home often tell me how jealous they are of the sunshine and opportunity here in Spain, but what they might not realise is that I am often jealous of the comfort and familiarity they have in England. As with everybody’s lives, there are times when I have bad days here; when I feel embarrassed and stupid in front of the class, when I get frustrated with my Spanish, or when I simply feel really, really homesick.

To overcome these moments it’s good to stop and think about what I’m grateful for, because I really am very lucky with the Spanish life I’ve made. Here are ten happy things never fail to brighten up my day.

1. Pyjama evenings with my flatmates. Slippers, a game of scrabble, cups of tea.. we have aged prematurely and we are very happy about this.
2. When I see my students around town and they do a shy, I’ve just seen the English assistant in public wave.
3. Teaching nine-year-old Miguel. He pronounces, with confidence, words which bear no resemblance to English, Spanish or any other human language. I say ‘Football’ and he repeats ‘Gleefnoo’. It’s like Joey (from Friends) learning French – wonderful.
4. Visiting my favourite fruit and veg shop and engaging in confusing but enjoyable conversation with Juan Antonio, the owner.
5. Popping into the tea shop and being asked to taste and critique all their new teas. Amazingly, the shopkeeper has interpreted my English nationality to mean ‘tea expert/connoisseur’ and highly values my opinion.
6. Receiving messages or emails from my family and friends. The internet is better than sliced bread / rainbows / unicorns / ALL GOOD THINGS when you’re away from home.
7. Evening jogs to the sound of Taylor Swift’s album. Perfect.
8. The satisfaction of understanding anything the teenage students mumble in slang Spanish.
9. When I consult my weather app and realise it’s actually ten degrees warmer than England.
10. Looking at my calendar and seeing the exciting things I have to look forward to this year – celebrating my 21st (!!!!!!!), a summer in Paris, returning to Durham… 2015 is going to be great.

Monday musings #10

Today I want to explain how fond I am of one particular Spanish quirk. Like their Italian counterparts, who use the word ‘bella’, Spanish people refer to women as ‘guapa’ (beautiful) in everyday speech. Adios quapa, hola guapa… it’s used constantly.

As a British native I’m not used to this treatment and it takes me by happy surprise whenever I hear it. Initially I took it as a genuine compliment, thinking ‘oooh that new mascara must be working a treat’ when a supermarket cashier greeted me with ‘hola guapa!’ as she scanned my tinned lentils. Now however, I realise that it’s actually the equivalent of ‘hello love’ in English and is used so frequently that it definitely does not refer to the effort I’ve made with my appearance that day, merely my status as a female human who has just entered a particular shop/school/post office/cinema/bank/library in Spain.

Whether it’s a genuine compliment or not, I enjoy the use of this phrase and it’s always a nice thing to hear. I think we can learn from this custom too. See, if everyone was reminded of their beauty when buying toilet roll on a Tuesday evening, wouldn’t the world be a happier place?

January sun

I’ve come to realise that my mood is drastically effected by the absence of sunshine. As a result, I’ll probably become one of those tanned but wrinkly pensioners who retire in Florida, wear visors and play bridge. I really miss the sun during winter and January is especially hard. Amazingly, this weekend was gloriously sunny and surprisingly warm (19 degrees!) so I caught a bus to Seville to make the most of the weather. I’ve been to Seville a few times now so for this visit I decided to hop across the river to Triana.

Architecturally, Triana is very similar to the main city, it’s just smaller, quainter and has fewer tourists.

Calle Betis, the street overlooking the river, is lined with coloured houses and apartments, ornate balconies and the typical Seville orange trees.

Sunshine and blue skies all day long – oh Spain..

Everyone was out with beers and tapas enjoying a beautiful Saturday. There were even people sunbathing topless by the side of the river. Isn’t it winter?

I think I even got a slight facial tan, on the 10th of January. It may be harder to leave Spain than I originally thought…

Christmas in the capital

I used to think London was best in the summertime but this year I changed my mind. During my two weeks at home this December I spent five days in the capital seeing the Christmas lights, visiting galleries and generally enjoying the availability of restaurants serving anything other than jamón (living in Southern Spain takes it’s toll…)

At Christmastime there’s so much going on in the city. The winter festival on the Southbank involved a Christmas market, a festive train ride, and more mulled wine vendors than ever before. I also visited Somerset house, where the annual ice-skating rink was set up in the courtyard alongside the added delight of the Fortnum and Mason Christmas arcade. This new addition can only be described as a corridor of middle class ladies browsing lose-leaf tea and luxury biscuits to the accompaniment of gentle jazz. It was very festive and very British.

Unsurprisingly, Covent Garden was also beautifully decorated, it had a giant reindeer, giant candy canes and (yes, you guessed it) giant baubles.

The Christmas lights were fantastic as always. This year Carnaby street’s were in a funky head-phone formation, whilst Regent Street’s were promoting Night at the Museum 3 and involved large pictures of Ben Stiller’s face. I also enjoyed the noticeable difference in the friendliness of shop assistants, railway station staff and Londoners in general – Christmas spirit really exists! To top it all off, at the end of each of my visits I got to experience this view of the Thames on my walk back to Waterloo.

Until Christmas 2015, London.

Christmas is coming!

It’s fast approaching my favourite time of year. Next week marks the beginning of December which means it’s time to put up Christmas decorations, open advent calendars and listen to Christmas songs without feeling guilty! I should probably admit that my flatmates and I put up our Christmas tree over two weeks ago. There was definitely logic behind the keenness; we had a month left until our flights home so we thought it’d be nice to start our own version of advent to countdown our departure. Also, Christmas trees are great for the mood, as is tinsel… and Michael Bublé.

It’s strange being in Spain at this time of year, especially since I’m used to London at Christmas – which is pretty spectacular when it comes to festive decorations. Living in Durham last year was also fantastically christmassy; we had an illuminated cathedral, real snowfall and none other than Joe Mcelderry, of X-factor ‘fame’, officially turned on the Christmas lights! Here in Zafra the whole Christmas thing is a lot more subtle. There are a few half-baked window displays and some lights but it just doesn’t compare to Britain. There are no wreaths on houses, no town Christmas tree and the very few lights that are up were turned on quite unofficially one tuesday morning. Sadly no Z-list geordie celebrities were involved…

Due to the distinct lack of festivity I’ve been seeking alternative ways to get into the Christmas spirit. If I walk for about half a mile along the dual carriage way (there is a pavement for the concerned parents reading), I get to experience the wonders that Lidl has in store (scuse the pun). Lidl, if you’re not aware, is a haven of cheap vegetables, german-branded biscuits and packaged leisurewear. What I’ve also discovered is that here in Zafra, it’s the only decent supplier of mince pies, Christmas puddings and santa hats within walking distance of mi casa.

For a lot of people this nonchalant approach to festivity is probably quite refreshing. Not for me. I’m someone who anticipates the arrival of Christmas as soon as my birthday ends…in May. You can safely assume that I’m monumentally excited to land in London in a few weeks time. I’ll finally be able to experience the crazy shoppers and  dramatic decorations without having to set foot inside a german supermarket to do so. I am fully ready for two weeks devoted to present-giving, parsnip-roasting and penguin-advert watching. Only 20 days to go!

10 things I’ve learned whilst living in Zafra

1. The sentence “I’ll meet you by the bull ring” is both common and acceptable.
2. If you decide to leave the house at siesta time you’ll develop a new affinity for Will Smith in ‘I am Legend’. There are no people, anywhere. It’s creepy.
3. Each week your food shop will cost the grand total of eight euros and seventy cents. Each week you will feel surprise and smug satisfaction.
4. It’s crushingly disappointing when your day of errands is put on hold because it’s a national holiday and EVERYTHING is shut. No food in the fridge? You’ve got 99 problems and hunger is most definitely one.
5. Going for a run in the countryside comes with multiple trip hazards including freely roaming chickens and rogue cattle.
6. You must repeat your name slowly and phonetically when meeting new Spanish people. You must then allow them to refer to you as “chica” because they simply cannot pronounce it.
7. You will soon realise that whole town knows each other and everyone is related to everyone (mainly due to large families in which no one leaves Zafra, not so much due to incest).
8. Skype is a wonderful thing.
9. Speaking English attracts persistent staring. Do I have three heads? Is there toothpaste on my chin? Nope, you’re just foreign.
10. Speaking English equals private lessons and extra cash. You’ll pay me to chat in my native language? Don’t mind if I do…

Hello Autumn

The cold weather has come to Zafra. When I say cold I mean that the temperature is no longer 30 degrees; it’s dropped to about 14, but this change occurred in the space of two days and no one was prepared.

You’d think a polar vortex had hit Spain. In the streets the (woollen) gloves are out, I’ve seen multiple bobble hats and last season’s Zara scarves are making all kinds of appearances. At school the playground is deserted, the students are occupying the corridors and the teachers are despairing. You can just about hear the exclamations of ‘que frio!‘ beneath the layers of snoods and baklavas.

If you think that’s extreme you‘ll be impressed to hear that my flatmate Whitney’s school have resorted to serious cold-prevention techniques. Their staffroom now features a round table with a heated blanket as a table cloth; the teachers sit huddled around it with their legs underneath in a cave of warmth.

For me, a Durham student, it’s not that cold. However, before coming to Spain I was lucky enough to spend Summer in the south of France. I returned to England for a few weeks but before my tan had the chance to fade I’d packed my bags again – I’ve therefore had five consecutive months of sunshine! As a result, my trusty tartan coat hasn’t seen daylight since April and I’m enjoying wearing it after all this time. The colder weather is quite a novelty in general; it makes home seem closer, cups of tea taste sweeter and I can finally wear more layers. Naturally my bed is also cosier, which isn’t such a positive when my alarm goes off… and we might have to start paying heating bills soon, but for now I’ll enjoy the change. Not having to worry about sweat patches whilst teaching teenagers is definitely a bonus.

I’m off to put my slippers on and listen to some Michael Bublé, it’s not too early for Christmas songs is it?!