I WANT TO LIVE... IN IBIZA

I've never even been. But this song makes me want to be there all summer.

Ch131 = Lifesaver

So my go-to website right now (after facebook, obviously. Have you ever had that experience where you are trying to search for a different website, and automatically typed in f-a-c-e-b-o-o-k? Yeah. Me neither) is ch131.com.

For some reason, tv networks like ABC, NBC, CBS all frown upon internationals viewing television. Also, Hulu doesn't work here, though I heard they are going to the dark side of paid membership soon anyways. I cannot emphasize how disappointing this is to me. Its the last season of Lost! How will I ever find out how they arrived on the island?! I need to find out when Jim and Pam's baby is born! THESE PEOPLE ARE MY FRIENDS. (Yeah, I understand how that sounds. Not my fault I forge emotional connections with fictional characters.)

But, luckily, there is a lifesaver available, known as ch131.com. The day after a show airs, it posts all the most recent tv shows. This way I have been catching up on my television, and even getting emotionally involved with new friends, like Community. Best of all, they post bootleg movies. So really I can get my daily dose of Americana, even from miles and miles away. I'm sure this is such an intelligent idea and even without commercials, that this will be shut down in only a few more months.

No matter how miraculous ch131 is, they do have a few faults. For example, I can't watch the Olympics (I don't think Spain is making a great showing there anyways. That's something to think about- imagine how less exciting the Olympics would be if, when watching, we didn't naturally assume American dominance. I think that would sound arrogant if everyone else didn't assume American dominance as well.) and they didn't have the Jersey Shore available. If only these two things were remedied, it would truly be the perfect website.

ryanair: you are useless.

Good things about ryanair:

Actual flights are extraordinarily cheap. Basically everyday, they have a "SPECIAL! LIMITED TIME OFFER! 9,99 EURO FLIGHTS!"

Bad things about ryanair:

I might have to start a whole new blog dedicated to this. 

Ryanair is able to offer dirt cheap flights because they then assault your bank account with various fees. A 10 euro flight will, por fin, cost you minimum 30 euro. Of course, this is just the online booking fees... 

Once you read the fine print, you realize that you can only bring 15 kilos of baggage. That's ONE piece of suitcase. Now, I'm not sure what guys do, but girls, we need more than one pair of shoes. And when its constant torrential downpour, we need more than 3 pairs of shoes. Throw in the hairdryer, make up, and more clothes than a normal person would wear in a month... and yeah, you're going to be cutting it awfully close. 

Of course, normal airlines charge ten euros for every kilo over the limit. Yes, this is expensive, but they then quote "fuel surcharge" or "the pilot has been fathering illegitimate children in every country he's been to and has to pay child support"or some other foreign concept we just can't understand. So we pay the ten euro per kilo and move on with our lives, feeling just a little bit violated. 

But not ryanair. Here, they charge twenty euros per kilo over and to bring a suitcase aboard a flight costs the same as a year's tuition at a private university. Not cool. 

And of course, IF the flight takes off on time (ours was 2.5 hours late, causing us to miss our bus and numerous snowball effects) then you have to endure the most absurd, yet shortest, flight of your life.

This particular flight (Porto-Madrid) was a mere 48 minutes. After takeoff (during which they shut off every single light on the plane, yet recommended that we could turn on the overhead reading lights if we were scared of the dark or wanted a little romance.... uhhh) began the announcements. We were offered cold food- not for free, natch- or hot food, this particular flight offered some pizza. Alcoholic beverages, which by this point were nearly a necessity, were proffered and through an act of remarkable self-restraint, turned down. 

Then things got weird. The stewardesses then began to sell SMOKELESS CIGARETTES, for those who would be otherwise too stressed out on a 48 minute flight to go without nicotine. My roommate kept looking to me for the go-ahead, but I told her no. The next cart wheeled down the aisle was even stranger- a virtual duty free mini mall. Perfumes and other things were for sale, at "the best prices". 

Considering that every one of these was prefaced by announcements in Portuguese, English and Spanish; and taking into account the various safety announcements that were actually necessary, a 48 minute flight afforded us no peace, but shopping opportunities galore. 

At the end of the flight, the crew signed off, deeming themselves a "legendary crew". 

Well, I certainly won't be forgetting it anytime soon.

uh oh... jefe.

The kids were being terrible, more so than usual yesterday. I've determined that the behavior of the age groups are as follows:

1 ESO (12 year olds, mas o menos): Love me. Are thrilled to see me every day. And, in fact, get a little angry with me when I'm not there.
2 ESO (13 year olds): Far more interested in yelling, screaming, and being anywhere but their chairs. Across the classroom is good, outside of the classroom is better. Sometimes they like to sing. But the common denominator of their favorite activities is NOISE.
3 ESO (14 year olds... are you following the emerging pattern?): Theoretically the highest level of English in the school, as they have been in the bilingual program for four years. However, they are way too cool for school and prefer not to speak English with me. And will avoid doing so at all costs. Real nice kids, I think they just are under the impression I'm a little useless. Ahh... so they've caught on.
4 ESO (15ish): These kids didn't have the opportunity of the bilingual program, so their level of English is lower. But talk to them about something they like, ie, Lady Gaga or facebook or sports and they love me a lot. Except one class that I think hates me. Those damn 3ESO'ers told them about my lack of purpose, creo que si.

Well, as you might imagine, I had a problem with 2 ESO. My teacher had not appeared for the first ten minutes of class (normal in Spain) and I only teach for a half hour. As they were frolicking throughout the classroom and hallways, completely ignoring me (again... the norm with this class); I finally lost it and explained to them, at maximum volume and near tears, that they had to sit down because even though I lack total authority, I have class with them the next day as well. So I will just get them in trouble then, with the social science teacher that they actually behave for. This scared them for the 14 seconds that I was aiming for.

Finally, a guardia (substitute teacher. But seeing how these kids need discipline like whoa, it might have been better if these guards show up with some sort of a weapon.) came in and said he would be there for the class. He asked if I was staying or going and I said hell no, I'm not staying here. For some inexplicable reason, he went downstairs as well. In fact, it was explicable and it was being explained in Spanish. So I didn't quite catch the logico.

Anyways, the so-called guardia needed reinforcement/replacement, I guess, because as soon as we got downstairs, he bailed and some other random I had seen before explained he would be the guardia now. Whatever, I didn't care. I ended up going back upstairs with this profesor to where the youngsters were still wreaking havoc.

Welllllllll... turns out the random was actually the jefe del studio (read: boss. Someone said he was like the deputy, but I think he meant principal. Whatevs.). Best part was walking back in the door, with all the darling little niños still running around and not paying me any attention, and having the principal walk in right behind. Finally, they stopped playing musical chairs and shut the hell up.

Lesson learned: Revenge against 13 year old children is just as sweet.

costa del sol? more like costa de la lluvia

I know all of you New Englanders are just basking in your snow days (with Carruthers gone, its a whole new regime, hmm URI?) and President's Days (its not like they're celebrating forty years of Franco over here, okay?) and Black History Months (see the below post with the apparently socially acceptable facepaint) and whatever else to make the most dreary month of the year pass by a little smoother.

Well, here on the Costa del Sol we are thoroughly enjoying an unprecedented amount of rain. Sure, these Andalusians tell me how great it is, how they normally have such bad droughts and lack of water in the summer, but they are not seeming to understand that I leave in June, and I've always been more of a "small picture, especially if that picture concerns me" type of girl. 

Look, my first two paragraphs consist of only three sentences. English teacher. Poor kids. 

Before every nor'easter, everyone knows: go to the grocery store. (And every college student knows: go to the liquor store.) Unfortunately, I haven't been checking the weather lately because it pretty much depresses me. So today's 40 mph winds were a bit of a surprise, as was the torrential downpour.

A delightful vista from my window. 

Umbrella casualty. 

Swimming pool. 

I know it sounds like I'm complaining a lot and that is because I absolutely am. But also remember that in a month or two I will be going to the beach everyday and ABSOLUTELY will be rubbing that in your faces. Also, keep in mind that my only form of transport are my feet or the bus (and to get to the bus, I would have to use my feet for 25 minutes). And yesterday was Sunday and the grocery stores are closed on Sundays... 

What I'm trying to say is that right now, for three girls, we have two pieces of bread.

chaos de carnaval

For so long, my favorite national holiday has been my birthday, closely followed by Jesus's, then maybe Arbor Day rounding out the top 3. (Seriously, anyone who has celebrated my birthday with me, or as I like to call it, the month of June, knows what's up.)

Sadly, Arbor Day, or another less significant day of the year is being pushed aside in favor of Carnaval. Now, I could go into a long history lesson that is copied and pasted off of Wikipedia, but what it comes down to is an excuse for the men of Spain to dress in drag. There is also singing, banging on drums, and a LOT of confetti all over the ground. Throwing in the Spanish obsession with catching cancer, ie cigarettes, I would think Carnaval is also a serious fire hazard. But also just a really, really good time.

This makes me realize that I really, really need to get to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, Carnaval's red headed stepchild (Which reminds me: Hey Char! How's Korea?) of a celebration.

qué pasa, Wyoming?

I had another fun class today... two sections of a bachillerato, aka, about forty 17-18 year olds. Talk about intimidating. I was asked all the standard questions, about food (someone asked about hamburgers and I responded, "That's not ALL we eat." He followed with, "Yeah, you have hot dogs too." Touche, sir. I almost said, "Well played" but wasn't sure if that would translate), handguns, driving and drinking. I mean that we did a compare and contrast of the ages to purchase alcohol versus the age to buy a gun or to obtain your driver's license (um, think about it. Ridiculo.)

But the point of this post is that I was asked if I knew any famous people in America. Clearly, I am not A-List, B-List, or on any list at all, so I think that I am a huge disappointment as an American for them. Then a student began listing random people from Spanish sports teams, basically a jumble of Juans, Antonios, Carlos', Fernadezes and Martinezes. 

At this point, the co-teacher in the room cut in and explained, bluntly, to the kids that Spain is not on the news in America, unless something terrible is happening. And I mean seriously, when is the last time that you saw anything on the news about Spain? Did you know that the British acronym for Portugal, Italy, Greece and Spain is PIGS? Kind of lets you know where they're at, even within the European Union, right? 

The kids seemed pretty broken-hearted, or at the least, mildly disappointed, so I quickly jumped in and explained that, being from Boston, there are some states that you don't hear about for YEARS. Seriously, what IS the political, financial or whatever else situation in Wyoming? 

ni-ni generacion

I recently learned something awesome and then it was reiterated to me today. So now I will relay said information to you and you can promptly forget it. Es perfecto.


So the current generation of los españoles are known as the "ni-ni generacion." This stands for "ni trabaja, ni estudia"... translation: neither work, nor study.


Essentially, these lucky hijos de putas (note: do not use this phrase in a Taco Bell. Probably don't Google translate either) live off their parents until they are 30-40 years old and don't work, study or provide for themselves in any way, shape or form.


This is such a common phenomenon that, besides having a catchy saying to go with it, almost any Spaniard you converse with knows someone in a similar situation. Today, during my teacher's conversation class (consisting of three teachers, my bilingual coordinator and myself all drinking some coffee and shooting the mierda), we were discussing said ni-ni generacion.


My bilingual coordinator told a story about her brother, who was divorced from his wife and had three grown children. These children were about 25-32 years old and he was STILL paying child support. Because in Spain children are not legally considered adults at 18, he was forced to take his wife to court and be like, "Uh listen, Judge... my kids are old. They should have been married, divorced and remarried, with some babies of their own. I think I can stop paying them an allowance now."


But, hey, its Spain. Obviously, the judge ruled against the father and he's still paying for his deadbeat kids. So, we are discussing this, and I was like, "Well, my mom says 18 and luggage. Luckily, I went to college, so I got away with a few summers without paying rent. But yeah, if I was 30 and still living with my parents, I think I would jump off a puente." (Kidding Mom & Dad! Keep collecting puppies and maybe see ya soon!)


Shocking, but most of the teachers agreed with me, saying "Yes, we really need a law like that here in Spain, its ridiculous, etc." However, one of the teachers, let's call him Juan Antonio Carlos (all of those are safe bets here) remained fairly silent.


Finally, another teacher asked, "Well, Juan Antonio Carlos- when did you move out?"


Juan Antonio Carlos: "31."

bachillerato

So, I have worked the last two Mondays to make up for my parents being here (Cool, thanks Mom... I don't like having five day work weeks either). Yesterday I worked with two bachillerato classes and a fourth year class. These niños were all strangers, so I didn't really do anything- just stood in front of the class and chatted with them. Of course, this led to some standard questions that I've now come to expect- "Do you have a boyfriend? Do you listen to Snoop Dogg? Which is better, American boys or Spanish? What is your favorite Spanish food? Where is Boston?"

Now, I think I've explained the bachillerato situash before. Basically, kids that are definitely going to college are in bachillerato, which gears them up for the biggest test of their lives, which determines what major they can go into in college, ie determining their future entirely. The bachillerato classes at IES Bezmiliana are further divided by subject- there's the equivalent of arts and sciences, a natural science course, I don't really know what else.

One of my kids asked me, "Do you know what you are going to be when you go home?"
Unfortunately for him, this is a hot button topic... so I immediately fired back with, "No, do you?"
He's going to be a chemistry teacher. Cool, he's 17 and has it all figured out. Sorry for getting a little snappy, bro.

Also, for the first time, I was kind of mean to some of my students! I, naturally, blame it on the fact that it was 830 am on a Monday and I am used to a three day weekend, and furthermore, never working before 930 am. But they kept talking while I was trying to converse with some kids in the back row. Finally, I said, "You are only talking right now because you are trying to think of another question to ask, right? ...No?... Okay, then be quiet."

Exhilarating.