¡feliz navidad a todos!

Feliz Navidad

(José Feliciano)

Feliz navidad,

Feliz navidad,

Feliz navidad,

Prospero año y felicidad.

Feliz navidad,

Feliz navidad,

Feliz navidad,

Prospero año y felicidad.

I wanna wish you a merry Christmas,

I wanna wish you a merry Christmas,

I wanna wish you a merry Christmas

From the bottom of my heart.

Feliz navidad,

Feliz navidad,

Feliz navidad,

Prospero año y felicidad.

Feliz navidad,

Feliz navidad,

Feliz navidad,

Prospero año y felicidad.

I wanna wish you a merry Christmas,

I wanna wish you a merry Christmas,

I wanna wish you a merry Christmas

From the bottom of my heart.

Now if Jose Feliciano could just add a verse in Italian, I'd be all set. 

americans = energy consuming jerks

So, Europeans are phenomenally energy conscious. The cars? Más pequeño. Showers? Menos. And so on. 


Recently, I was talking to the kids about Christmas. I explained to them about how we have Christmas trees, and asked if they normally have real or fake trees (answer = fake). I told them how some families, though not mine because that would require too much family togetherness and mi madre hates pine needles anyways, would actually go out and chop down their own Christmas tree. 


For some reason, the most important question that the kids had was, "Well how do they bring the tree home?" I explained that they just throw the tree on top of the car and that's a very common sight in the month of December in America. They were seriouslyyyy shocked. (To me, this implies that their hybrid, energy-conscious matchbox cars are put together with toothpicks and plastic, but whatever. Buena suerte en un accidente.) This leads the teacher to go on a 10 minute rant about how Americans have HUUUGE cars because we don't care about the environment. 


Yeah, okay, that's probably true. I mean it seriously upsets me that we have five family members and only four cars. And if anyone is driving my car right now, despite my being on a different continent, I will be HEATED. But really, my point of this post is that, while I am all for saving the ozone layer or stopping global warming or whatever they were talking about in Cophenhagen, Spaniards really need to splurge a little and invest in some clothes dryers. 


That's right. Clothes dryers are nonexistent, so we only have a drying rack. Since I have been slacking, to say the least, on my laundry, I am now trying to get it all done before Italy so I can bring my favorite stuff with me. Did I mention it's been raining for three days and, in the cold, it takes clothes at least 4-5 days to dry??? 


You win on the clothes dryer front, Spain... but now I need to break out the hair dryer.

i accidentally taught my kids bad words again :(

Well, we had a nice little class on the present continuous tense the other day with my 3rd year students (in the 15 year old age group). Basically, for those of you English speaking folks who forgot this tense - and shame on you! - after I looked it up in a book, I found out that it is like when you say "If I am _____ present tense verb then I will _____ future." 


So I decided that I would teach them by having them form a chain of sentences using the present continuous. Por ejemplo:


"If I am happy, I will spend time with my friends."
"If I am spending time with my friends, we will go to the movies."
"If we are going to the movies, we will see New Moon." (OMG! LOLZ... Luna Nueva is all the rage right now.)


Or something lame like that. 


However, I forgot to take into account that I was giving 15 year old students free rein with a very, very open-ended assignment. So, as we progressed through the class (which, by the way, was kind of hilarious), I would be writing the words that they were unfamiliar with on the board. By the end of the class, I had written:

drug addict

insane asylum

to divorce

to commit suicide

escape (from prison)

And various other essential, everyday words to communicate. Ahhh, the holiday season. 

transportes y tiempo

Well, Boston just got hit by a monster blizzard, but luckily, it doesn’t snow in Andalusia, it rains. Heavily. This affects all of the public transportation system. For example, I just visited Seville (where, incidentally, it downpoured for the entire day and the catedral was closed. Que guay.) Thinking that the best option for returning home would be to catch a train, we did so. Unfortunately, following a long announcement, en español, that was shrouded in static, it appeared that... something was wrong. I gathered this from trying to eavesdrop on the people around me, who kept saying something that sounded like, “iahjfksfkjfhshautobus...” and then listening to a different conversation that sounded like, “sajkhfiusfhjnvkautobus.”

It appeared that something would be happening with a bus. 

Finally, after spending about an hour and a half on the train (including two times where the train simply stopped for “cinco minutos”... or 15-30 minutes), we pull into a station. Then, everyone is told to exit the train and we get on a random bus waiting for all of the passengers. We ride said bus for 25 minutes. Switch back to a train. 

The most shocking thing is that no one seems remotely concerned about the shenanigans that are going on or the hoops we are being made to jump through. In fact, the only other people who appear to be upset - and keep in mind that, in total, this trip took an hour longer than it should have - were English people sitting next to us. These people ALMOST salvaged the train trip, by making comments about how this was “cutting into their leiiiiisure time.”

This was one of those days where I miss America. In particular, I miss the principles that our country was based on - “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, even when that pursuit of happiness involves bitching at someone until you get your way. Or at least a refund”. 

MJ

One of my teachers recently told me something that I found absolutely hilarious. This teacher, José Antonio, lives near me and drives me to school two days a week. We meet in front of his son’s primary school. (Also, Lucas used to not be my biggest fan... Guess who gave me a besito the other day?! Maybe I could work with children yet...nah) 

Anyways, Lucas was running all over the place and José Antonio rattles off this long sentence in Spanish, muy rapido, and all I could catch was “Michael Jackson”. So once he got Lucas under control, I asked why he was talking about Michael Jackson. Apparently, after showing him the “Thriller” music video, Lucas was so scared, José Antonio and Mrs. José Antonio would use Michael Jackson as a threat- ie, “If you don’t eat your vegetables, Michael Jackson will come and get you”. And it worked. 

My response was, “If he thought he was scary in ‘Thriller,’ you should show him pictures of MJ after he turned white and got plastic surgery”. 

Cultural exchange. Priceless.

sin asunto

Know how I know my Spanish is improving? Sometimes, when thinking about a night out, I can’t distinguish whether I was speaking English or Spanish with someone. Maybe that has more to do with the chupitos de algo deliciosos though. But I did recently have a conversation in Spanish about the difference between American and British English. Went something like this... but in Spanish: 

Hombre: No, no, no British English is better.

Yo: (trying to be diplomatic and not immediately point out that America is the ONLY superpower in the world) It’s not better... its different. Like South American Spanish and Spanish Spanish.

Hombre: Yes and Spanish is better here than in South America. Because Spanish started here, and its the same ... You know you used to be owned by Britain, right?

Yo: No shit, we used to be part of Britain. (Didn’t say that, but thanks for the history lesson, pal.) But then we had a revolution and won, so we are definitely better. 

This is a huge improvement from, “Hola! Que hora es?” aka all the Spanish that I remembered from Araujo’s Spanish class. 

No pasa? Nada.

So, since I am, ya know, a teacher here, I figured three months in was when I should have the education system of Spain explained to me. (I’ve actually had it explained to me several times, just never in English... it was always a gray area, at best.)

Obviously, these niños go through primary school until twelve or so, then go onto secondary school. Secondary school, where I teach the little angelitos, is from twelve until sixteen. Then they go to bachillerato (this word is harder to pronounce than catedral) for two years. Now, what was just explained to me is that the first year of bachillerato is like high school in America. I think. But this is only for the kids who are trying to go to college... 

This is where it gets interesting. Apparently, the second year of bachillerato is pretty much comprised entirely of studying for some exam- no idea the name of it. This exam seems to me to be similar to the SAT, in that it covers different subjects and is necessary to get into college. It’s different from the SAT because kids can take it only once and it basically determines their entire course in life. 

Depending on the grade they get determines the major that they can enter into in college. Think about if you’re a shitty test taker (or just happen to bomb this ONE exam) and your score was low, and all you have EVER wanted to do in life is become a doctor... well, that sucks. From my understanding, you can never retake this exam so if you screw this one up, well I hope you’re satisfied with going to college to become a mailman. 

This explains so much about the abundance of street performers in Spain. Also, after learning about this exam, I have toned down my loud explanations of how college in Spain is free.

This chick probably can't even read, now she pours water dressed as a golden fairy. Life Win.

pictorial of the last few weeks in málaga

Writing a long post is entirely beyond my capabilities right now. 

So instead, I thought I would just post a few photos. 

Easier for me. Easier for you. 

Also, if a picture is worth a thousand words, I’ve essentially just written 3,000+ words.

Enjoy.

One of the most important aspects of living abroad is cultural exchange. 

Here, we teach the Swedes and Brits about the wonders of Jagerbombs.

Of course, we included a certain Youtube video and a lecture on guidos and how they should be avoided at all costs.

We realize that normal people pay to get into VIP. 

But if you are an average person, why would you be sitting in VIP?

And we DEFINITELY do not pay for the champagne.

Despite being unbelieeeeeevably environmentally conscious, 

Spain seems to drape all of its streets in these lights, or ones similar. 

The luz count for Málaga is upwards of 1 million, 

making it the 2nd most beautiful light display, behind Barcelona. 

Obviously, they don't subscribe to the Ricky Bobby mantra of "If you ain't first, you're last". 

Next year, spring for 2 million. 

no remembero eleven

I won't lie to you and say my Spanish is amazing. Or even decent. 

And, sometimes, its downright indecipherable. 

But I do know that eleven is "once" in español.

¡una celebración!

Well, successfully called Naranja (or is it Anaranjado?) 

and worked out the phone issues. 

And now, I give to you: Juan Magan. 

(Also the genius behind María, María)

no recuerdo mi codigo... PUK you.

Sometimes I get confused about how things that are convenient for me would entail inconveniencing others. POR EJEMPLO: Last night, I made the small mistake of turning off my mobile. This was not due to the vodka or the many, many, many chupitos de algos deliciosos (shots of something delicious) that I had. Simply, I lack basic motor skills that I need to function. No pasa nada. 

Anyways, I forgot my PIN to turn my phone on. And decided that what I was guessing was correct. So re-entering it, several times, would convince my phone that it was wrong and I was right. Well I learned that humans < machines when my phone said it was going to stop working and is now blocked. 

Back to my point: 

In order to fix this problem, I need to call my cell phone service provider Orange. 

In order to call my cell phone service provider, I need to use their website. 

In order to use their website, I need to be able to speak Spanish. 

Can’t they have their website in English so that this ONE chica americana can use her phone and maybe text the cute British guy from last night?

blog fail

SORRY FRIENDS, I DIDN’T REALIZE MY BLOG WAS THE SOLE REASON YOU WOKE UP IN THE MORNING. More accurately, I was unaware that anyone read this/my friends were capable of reading. Congrats! Looks like I'll be sin trabajo when I come home.

Anyways, other than my apartment turning into a virtual hostel (we keep saying brothel, and then realize that has negative and sadly inaccurate connotations) with all these damn visitors, I don’t think I have done anything particularly exciting. 

We did have Thanksgiving and it was surprisingly successful. I didn’t realize how stressful it was to prepare it and I was given the most menial tasks (most certainly for the best. Cutting carrots/onions/peppers? Lo puedo.) to do. Plus, we - correctly - thought that the only way to relax was to drink bottles of vino. Mom, Grandma, how did you do it without copious amounts of booze? Or are you hiding something from me?

Right now, we are having a small URI reunion. Frazer and Brett are on their last leg of their European journey - ask me about it, I could quote it verbatim - and have come to check out the sights in Málaga. Five minutes later, when they finished sightseeing, we started drinking. Next, LC came down from Torre del Mar. Then Greg sin luggage (fly British Airways!) arrived. True/false: a small RHODY RHODY RHODY RAMS RAMS RAMS chant broke out in the shots bar? I guess its true- soon we will be Rhode Island dead. 

Sorry, this is all over the place. That’s what you get when I try to write and all I want is kebap and a siesta after just waking up. But I just couldn’t stand disappointing my faithful followers any longer. And, hey, don’t drink the Kool-Aid. 

“A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles.” – Tim Cahill

Last weekend, I went to Torre Del Mar and spent a weekend in the countryside at Toren and LC’s. In actuality, its a decent sized town, with a lot of nightlife. But I still consider it the country because I was able to fall asleep/wake up and not have the sounds of the barrio outside. Plus, I am sure that the overall crime rate is lower than that of Málaga, if we judge this entirely by whether or not I am scared of being jumped. (haha jk lolz mom)

It really was pretty relaxing to be out of the city, though. I spent the weekend being kind enough to allow Toren and LC to cook for me which was a terrific life decision. I’m considering spending some of my stipend paying for them to be my personal chefs. On Saturday, Chrystin emerged from her cave and came to play at the Velez-Málaga fería with us. 

Ferías need to be instituted in America. I experienced many firsts, such as drinking out of a wine bag. Now, even though I think the last time these were regularly used was in the 19th century, I can’t believe that I have gone 22 years without owning one (that’s right, para gratis). It’s like a flask, but medieval. Awesome. 

Plus, LC and Toren’s friend (haaaaaa) gave us the VIP tour of Velez-Málaga. It included a free visit to a half church/half Semana Santa Museum. The Semana Santa memorabilia was pretty insane... also, I need to Google ASAP to determine the connection between KKK and Semana Santa in Spain. I realize that pointy hats have a religious connotation here, but to see this...

...is a little unnerving. 

Also, I love that Spain thinks that fire hazards are, overall, less of an issue. I mean, why haven't people in America begun to drink vodka and then breathe fire during carnivals in America? 

More Teaching Fails

Today, I came home from school and my roommate (the slacker doesn’t work Wednesdays and Fridays... even for Spain, that’s bad) asked me how my day was. I thought really hard and said, “Wow, I don’t think I accidentally taught the niños anything bad today.” So I figured that would make for an interesting post. 

1. “Death threats” - We had a Halloween parade of sorts in class, which essentially entailed me standing in front of the class, the profesor taking a picture of whoever, and then the student had to say something to me, as I was judging this costume contest charade. Sure, the first couple kids stuck to the standard “Boo,” but then I guess the level of English improved and thus, it began to get interesting. 

First, a witch told me that she would cast a spell on me if I didn’t choose her as best costume. Yeah, whatever, I don’t think you’re the next Hermione Granger, chica, I’m gonna sleep pretty easy tonight. Then, the kid with the needle (I mean, it was a HUGE syringe. I thought Spain had a cocaine problem, not whatever you shoot up- maybe heroin? I need to watch more Intervention) told me that he would kill me. Okay, I mean, I was excited about my time in Spain, but then what was I going to do, anyway? No pasa nada, hombre. Finally, the girl that was in a lab coat and covered with (I hope) fake blood told me that she would kill everyone in the class if I didn’t pick her as the costume contest winner. 

What’s a girl supposed to do? I told them, “Well, due to the ‘death threats’ I’ve been receiving...” At which point, I had to stop and tell the class what death threats meant. I even wrote it on the board. 

And just so you know, I told them that because of the death threats, it was a tie between everyone in the class. I couldn’t have all that blood on MY hands, Halloween or no. 

2. “Nipples & Bellybuttons” - Yup, I had to say nipples in front of the class. That was awkward. This I would totally blame on my S. Korean comrade, Ray, because I had them drawing monsters and then describing them to me. And, of course, what’s funnier to a class of 15 year olds than a monster with 3 nipples and a huge bellybutton? Uh, nothing. And since they didn’t even know the words for arms or legs, of course I had to define nipples to the class. Teaching fail. 

3. “Fishnets” - I also taught the kids what fishnets were. I didn’t think that was that big of a deal though, its not like I told them they looked like something you would wear if you were standing on a street corner. Or, anywhere indoors in the state of Rhode Island. 

I guess the common denominator in all this is that Halloween has lots of palabras malas. And even though, at the moment, Halloween is celebrated with scary costumes, very soon there will be witches in fishnets and dressed like sorostitutes. Ah, the Americanization of Spain. 

(In other news, I am supposed to be paid on the first of every month. Unfortunately, the principal had a toothache and the secretary has to come in AT SOME POINT with her note from the doctor saying how sick she is. Until then, mi cuenta de Unicaja esta vacia. Translation = I am poor.)

brujas y fantasmas

So I just celebrated my first Halloween in Spain- and apparently one of their first as well. The way that they view Halloween is that it is supposed to be as scary as possible. Thus, the mutilated babies hanging in a spiderweb. Also, the chicas here don’t dress as slutty nurses/mailmen/whatever... they also try to dress really creepy. So the streets of Málaga were a little scary last night, and not just ‘cause of los gitanos. 

But let’s be serious- the reason why Spaniards are trying to hop on the Halloween bandwagon is because they are just always down to rage. And rage they do.... below is the aftermath of a serious botellon sesh (essentially, buy a bottle of vodka. Buy a bottle of Fanta. Drink in public) in the Plaza de la Merced. ¡ay dios mio!

Lessons Learned in Spain:

patience is a virtue

Agree to disagree, Spain. Agree to disagree.

Dear Spain, you are quite the anomaly...

Or maybe I meant to say illogical, irrational, and occasionally just loco. I’m not sure, I spend all my time dumbing down my English for my niños, other professors, and Spaniards I encounter on the street (and probably my American friends too- LOLZ). But, anyways, let me count the ways: 

1. Now how does it make any kind of sense to have up escalators... but never, never down escalators, only stairs. Hi, people in wheelchairs (and me, when I’m lazy) need to travel both up and down, por favor. 

2. I get it, I get it- you use moneda (coins). So you’re telling me that if I try to hand the driver a five euro bill on the bus, I will be told that they do not accept effectivo (paper currency) and I have to get off the bus and try to use my terrible Spanish to make change somewhere else? Oh, right. That’s more convenient for everyone. 

3. This is not a third world country. There is a world-wide pandemic of Gripe A (aka swine flu, and yeah, I know that a pandemic MEANS world-wide epidemic but it sounds a little more dramatic). And STILL you are telling me that it is impossible to invest in some toilet paper or maybe even some soap in public bathrooms? This is not a problem solely located in discotecas, either. You should see the cesspool that they call a bathroom at school. 

4. How about the falta de agua (drought)? Yet for some reason, you invest a great deal of time and effort WASHING the streets every night. In America, maybe you’ve heard of it, we just do a little street sweeping and call it a day. On the other hand, I have seen a man go to the bathroom on the streets, so keep it up. I’ll take shorter showers if necessary.

5. Students are taught that there are five continents.

6. How about the work ethic here? You’re dealing with an 18% unemployment rate overall and its staying steady at 37% for people my age(thanks, wikipedia, consider this a citation). Now, I’m no economics major, but let’s just say, if you have a job here, maybe you should actually do some damn work. None of this closed for rest garbage. Everyone gets a case of the Mondays, but I think that in order to make some dinero, your store should be open. Again, I’m Asian, but no math whiz, so let me know if I’m not thinking that one all the way through.

7. I’m pretty sure that I see about 10 policia on Larios every morning. Now how is this the hotspot for pickpocketing? Oh right, because even though Spain doesn’t have doughnuts, they still find a way to stand in groups, talk amongst each other and do nothing. ¡Enhorabuena! You’re useless. (Disclaimer: To all my policia that I know, I am obviously not talking about you. Your colleagues are really bringing down your image). 

Despite the fact that you are utterly ridiculous, I still enjoy spending time with you Spain.  I think our relationship can move past these small speedbumps. That’s another thing- how about some traffic laws?

ay dios mio... wiki-wiki-WHY?

I need to somehow film the crowd's reaction when this song is comes on at the discotecas.









It is positively appalling, let me assure you. 

“Half the fun of the travel is the aesthetic of lostness.” – Ray Bradbury

I think that one of the things that is most difficult for me in Spain is having to accept that I cannot be as smart in the Spanish language as I am in English. I pride myself on my English vocabulary and, despite not being sure of the difference between a present continuous or a simple present noun, my writing and speech is almost always grammatically correct. Perfect, if you will. (haha.... sadly, first - and second, third, fourth... - impressions of me don’t in anyway imply that I’m intelligent. Oh well.)

So adjusting to the fact that my Spanish is, at best, elementary is pretty tough. Yeah, I can convey my basic wants and needs, maybe even tell a story... ocasionally, even in the past tense. But anything more is usually lost in translation. One example is that I’m pretty sarcastic... but trying to be sarcastic in Spanish is nearly impossible for me. Last night, I said “era una broma” (it was a joke) after I received a blank stare from my new policia friend. He said, in Spanish, “I don’t understand your jokes.” Ouch. 

In any language, I think one of the worst things is NOT KNOWING something, anything. One example is that one of the profesoras that I teach English to wanted me to explain the economy in America right now. Umm... I didn’t have internet for 6 weeks, I’ve never taken economics in college and I’m pretty sure that in high school I did about as poorly as I’ve ever done in a class in Economics (not including AP Calculus, por supuesto). So, I will be giving myself a quick crash course on economics and trying to give Lola a free lesson next Thursday. Yikes. 

In general, it seems as though all the useless knowledge that I’ve accumulated in the past 22 years (okay, not sure exactly how much I learned years 0-3 or so) have set me up for teaching English. I can explain the American government to them, talk to them about my pets, explain various sports, talk about all the random places I’ve been to in America (thanks, parents, for taking us to that dude ranch. That’s easily understood by Spaniards), discuss American movies and music. Pretty much all my time wasted in America has geared me up to teach the culture of my country.

I had to travel to Spain to find out that I’m an interesting person. 

Thanks American friends... hijos de putas, jajaja.

la comida de china

Well, last night, due to extreme laziness and general disinterest in cooking, Chrystin and I attempted to have Chinese food in España. 

Pros: 

• free delivery!
• that whole not having to cook thing. Plus, capitalizing on our epic laziness, we opted for the plastic plates and forks. I think that really makes the para llevar (take-out) experience, right?
• In theory, the menu is the same as an American Chinese food menu. For example, they have “rollos de primavera”- spring rolls! Also, recognizable were won-tons, various chicken and pork dishes, noodles, etc...

Cons: 

• Remember how I dropped that “In theory” into the pro’s column... well, guess what? As always in Spain, you never quite know what’s gonna end up on your plate. So, “arroz frito,” aka fried rice, implies that the rice will, in fact, be fried. Sadly, this is not the case here. Instead, we had some steamed rice. Maybe when they were writing the menu they just weren’t sure of the word for “steamed,” because I sure as hell don’t know it. 
• The won-tons were, in actuality, just some of that Indian bread, naan, that was deep-fried. Sometimes, small treats, such as meat or some kind of vegetables, were hidden inside. I don’t actually want to think about the sorpresas de carne (meat surprises, hahahha). 

So is this what its like for a Chinese person to be living in America? Seeing a sign for the Jade Pacific and getting excited for some traditional Chinese food and then... let-down?

Wait... if I’m used to Americanized Chinese food.... do you think that maybe I ate authentic straight-off-the-boat-from-China-but-in-Spain Chinese food last night and I am just unused to such authenticity? Also, what do you think those meat surprises were? I've seen how they treat their mascotas (pets) here, and that thought is scaring me a little. 

Either way, when I go to a Chinese restaurant in Spain, I’m totally ordering a scorpion bowl. 

So, today I felt like I betrayed my Boston roots a little. That’s right, I was complimented on having a very easy accent to understand- because of my LACK of American accent. 

You know what that means. I’ve found my R’s. No longer do I pahk my cah, now I can go to Harrrrvarrrrd Yarrrrrrd and leave the Corolla there (Really, I am in Spain and never go to Harvard Yard, or for that matter, drive anywhere. But that is entirely besides the point of this post). 

Living in Andalusia, I am told all the time that “if you can speak Andalusian Spanish, you can speak Spanish anywhere”. The reason for this is that most of the time, in Andalusia, people get tired or take a mini-siesta about half or 3/4 of the way through a word and move on to the next word. I think it also due to the reason of exhaustion that they speak so quickly- POR FAVORRRR, let this conversation be over soon. Now, everywhere I go, I wave my invisible American flag, making it painfully clear that I AM NOT SPANISH. And when I speak English to Spainards I speak as slowly as possible and enunciate e-v-e-r-y s-i-n-g-l-e l-e-t-t-e-r. How is that they can not slow down or maybe, I don’t know, finish a word? Gra... Graci... oh, you mean Gracias? Sorry that you had to overexert yourself. Take tomorrow off. 

I just went to the Oficina de Extranjeros on Monday to FINALLY, FINALLY get my residency permit (Whoops, did I overstay my 30 days?). Imagine being Spanish and going to the DMV. It doesn’t matter how often, or in what language, you beg, “por favor, mas despacio”... nahhht gonna happen. Especially frustrating was when finally, after using hand signals, smoke signals, and pictionary, I was able to understand what was going on- then learning that the man spoke enough English to convey his point. Come on, pal, help an extranjero out, your accent is unbelievably hard to understand.

That’s not to say that I do not have some speaking fails in the classroom. Something that I never noticed about American accents is how similar our T’s and D’s are. For example, I am asked how old I am: “twenty-two”. But really, we pronounce it “twenny-two”. Always good for a laugh is me pronouncing absolutely any Spanish word- today my best joke was attempting to say “Malagueta”. Hey kid, I know you are very leeetle, but your English accent isn’t the best I’ve ever heard, so cut me some slack, ¿vale? 

I realize this post sounds overly harsh, but to tell the truth I had a few of the most productive days ever here. First, I am in fact legally here, for a year or so (not sure how long a permiso de estancia for estudiantes is valid for). Second, I was able to open a bank account. Now, I can get paid for hanging out with the niños. And, I am fairly proud of myself for having an easy accent to understand. 

Now....... if...... only...... people..... at..... home.... won’t....... judge.... me.... when.... I.... talk..... like..... this.......

¿Entiendes?