Meet New Friends. Stay awhile. All Together Share a Smile.

It has been just over a month since I arrived in Spain, according to the calendar.  A month already?  No puede ser.  It just doesn’t feel like a month to me. It feels more like a week.  I am only going to be in Spain for eight months and one month is already over?  If this were a marathon I would be past the 5K mark.  And while the 5K mark is definitely not the end of the race, it is the first significant chunk you mark off in the race distance.  I must slow the pace down a little bit so I don’t wear myself out before the end.   

I, for one, am completely shocked to be feeling this way.  Before I got here, I was positive that I would get to Spain and feel completely out of my element, with no one to talk to and nothing to do.  I imagined myself standing all alone in a room with nothing but a calendar hanging on the wall, black marker in hand, crossing off the days until I could go home for Christmas. I was coming up with weird excuses for having to come home, like I wasn’t sure that I would be able to run and swim here and prepared myself for the possibility of early departure due to my inability to get a(n almost) daily dose of exercise endorphins.  I was preparing for the worst and expecting it too.  I had little faith that quitting two jobs, leaving my nice (rented) house complete with a nice roommate, great running routes and a close proximity to two pools and moving to Spain at the age of 29 would ever really work out.  I convinced myself that I would go and within a few weeks come to my senses and realize that this ‘bucket list’/ ‘living my dream’ stuff is all just a bunch of bologna (special thanks to the Oscar Meyer commercial that allowed me to spell that word correctly without using spell check).  I gave myself a month, tops.

Spain had other plans for me though.  And it started before I even got here.  When I got the news about where I would be teaching, I set out to get some first-hand information about the city.  I contacted my host mom from my study abroad experience back in college.  She didn’t have great things to say about the town, so I set out for a second opinion.  My Spanish teacher was kind enough to give me the name and contact information of a friend of hers who lives in Sevilla.  He, in turn, was kind enough to ask around and find out what kind of place this Alcalá de Guadaíra was. He also made the suggestion that I contact the school to find out if they knew of a place to live.  So I did, and they led me to an English teacher who had a three-bedroom piso available for rent in Alcalá.  That contact with the school gave a name to one of their three ‘helpers’ for the year (the school knows that they will get people, but they don’t get those people’s names), which they shared with one of the (American) helpers from last year, who was still in contact with the school.  She, in turn, contacted me via Facebook.  We ended up meeting up and she told me all about Alcalá (the teachers, the classes, the buses to get there and my options for which city to live in, among other helpful facts).  She was kind enough to ride the bus to Alcalá with me, showed me how to get to school, how to get to my new piso and introduced me to one of my new pisomates. From there, I was put in contact (again) with the director of the school, who was kind enough to pick me up in Sevilla and bring me (and my 4 pieces of luggage) to Alcalá. And it of course doesn’t stop there.  I have two really fun, friendly roommates. Among several kind gestures, one is that one of my roommates was kind enough to call a bunch of Internet companies and find the best one for us and get it all set up for us (I could never have communicated with the Internet companies about what we needed, that is for sure.  I would be typing this from and Internet café if it weren’t for his help).  My other roommate is always willing to talk, go to the shoe store, or just for a walk. Spanish may be a second language for both of us, but we still manage to figure out what the heck the other one is talking about (most of the time).  

And then I met the teachers at my school. Those that live in Alcalá offered their phone numbers in case I ever needed anything, wanted a ride somewhere, or just wanted to go out for a drink or some other social activity. The students are just as kind, asking me where I live and offering their phone numbers for if I ever need anything or want to hang out in Alcalá. Just a few days ago Clarisse and I were at the grocery store and I was in the produce aisle selecting a melon when one of my students came up to me and starting talking. A few aisles later I met up with another student, who introduced me to his daughter and wife. A few minutes after we parted, he found me in the store again and he offered me his phone number in case I ever needed to know about anything here in Alcalá. I have one student for private lessons too, who also offered his Alcalá wisdom. The other American teacher at the school (who lives in Sevilla instead of Alcalá) is also always around and ready to eat lunch, go shopping or do whatever. Suffice to say, I am very far from being alone.

I am also far from being bored.  I have lots of stuff to do.  For example, Clarisse and I made a trip to the bank and got ourselves our own bank accounts.  Since she is only 22, she got an account that doesn’t cost anything.  The man at the bank tried to set me up with a young person account too, but when he entered my birth year, the computer stopped him.  He asked me if there was an error on my passport because there was no way I could be as old as it says.  He thought I was 22 or 24 tops.  I was flattered, but told him that my passport wasn't lying. It is true that I am an old lady.  And that meant that I had to get a big-girl account where I pay about 1.25 Euro per month as a processing fee as well as a 1 Euro per-month charge to have and use an ATM card.  It’s the price you pay for being a big-girl.  The whole bank account experience took about 2 hours, but the man at the bank was very kind to us, speaking to Clarisse a little in French and speaking to me little bit about Tennessee whiskey (I have the face of a whiskey-lover), whether Kansas was near Minnesota and telling me that another American came to that very bank the day before to get an account.  To his dismay, I did not know her, even though she and I are from the same country (according the information he showed me, she is from Pennsylvania). (Special thanks one of my elementary school teachers who taught me how to spell that state correctly without spell check).  I have to go back to the bank this week to pick up my ATM card and then return a third time when I actually have my TIE to officially have a Spanish savings account.  Speaking of which, I went to the watch store/identity-card-photo-taking place this past week and got my photo taken for the identity card.  I don’t think I’ve ever had a better 'official' photo taken.  I may not have understood a single word the watch store clerk/photographer said to me besides ‘pasa’ (come here) to direct me to the camera, but he took one hell of an ID photo. On Tuesday of this week I'll  head to Sevilla for my second appointment for the identity card. 

PHOTO OF THE PHOTO:

Clarisse’s birthday was on October 21. I made her a banner that said, ‘Feliz Cumpleaños’ and hung it up in the living room on her birthday. José and I were co-conspirators in the rest of her birthday celebration plans. It really came in handy that we could make the plans in English so she wouldn’t know what was going to happen.  We got her a chocolate cake, a birthday card, a Spanish cookbook (which had to be purchased in Sevilla because Alcalá has a cookbook store deficiency), gloves (for ‘winter’ in Spain) and a bracelet. After work, Megan, José, Clarisse and I headed out for tapas and drinks/darts to further celebrate the occasion.  

CAKE, TAPAS AND DARTS:

We had so much fun that we decided that we will make Thursday nights a weekly occasion. 

And the fun did not stop there.  Megan, Clarisse and I went to Cádiz as another way to celebrate.  We took the bus from Sevilla in the morning and arrived in Cádiz after about an hour ride.  Our first stop was the tourist office, where we found a map/tour guide.  The city had several different color-coded routes for us to take.  You simply follow the corresponding colored line on the ground to arrive at the designated tourist attraction. We spent the day in Cadiz following the lines.

 

(Notice the purple line on the right.)

And I of course, in my spare time, I go to class.  I am assigned certain activities in each class, some of which require preparation.  Then there are the conversation classes I have throughout the week for which I need to plan activities, as well as private lessons 3-4 times per week (which, truth be told, haven't really started yet; I've only done one so far). 

I've also fit in a couple of trips to the Festival of Nations in Sevilla (a bunch of outdoor booths with food and or craft/clothing items from different countries) and a shopping trip this past weekend. I tried to find some jeans and other clothes, but to my dismay my calves did not fit in the jeans and my upper arms did not fit in shirts. You can't make this stuff up.)  After shopping we (Megan, Clarisse and I) went to a movie- Rumores y Mentiras (Rumors and Lies) (Why yes, Deb. Amanda Bynes is in that movie). It was dubbed in Spanish, but it's a movie that is pretty easy to understand, even if you miss some of the lines.

I'm sure I've forgotten to tell you about a lot of exciting things, such as how we came to have two home phones, one that doesn't ring and the other that rings, but is more of a challenge to dial since it is a rotary phone. Or how last week I had to give a demonstration on how to carve a pumpkin in front of the entire school while wearing an apron with a cow on it and being videotaped. Or about our amazing oven that cooks things, but for some reason they come out of the oven cold. Or about my plans to run a half marathon in Morocco in January. Or about no matter how hard I try, people do not call me Missy. I am known as Melissa.  But hey, I've only got seven months left in Spain.  I don't have time to tell you everything.

Melissa/Missy

Walk with me...

This is an exciting video of my walk up the hill to school. Try to stay awake for the whole minute and half.  You'll love the end, where I can't figure out how to shut off the camera.

Here's the hill from afar:

 

El Naranjo

Today I checked another item off my bucket list- to run a race in a foreign country.  (Just a warning, this entry is all about running/the race.)  I ran a 10.7 KM race (it was supposed to be 11, but it was changed.  Kelly V., I can see you laughing, shaking your head and saying ‘Ah, Spain.’ right now.).  Besides the initial sign-up process being a little different, the race itself was pretty much the same. To sign up, I had to print out the registration form from the website and fill it out.  Then I had to go to the bank (Cajasol) and pay my registration fee.  Essentially what you are doing is depositing the money directly into the race’s bank account.  The bank gave me a receipt of the deposit.  (As a side note, the bank teller asked me about my last name- where I was from because Robles is a common name in Spanish.  There is some vineyard or wine region here with that name.  He pronounced it quite nicely too- no extra syllables even.)  I faxed my registration form and receipt to the race’s office to register.  Since I registered at the last minute, I never really knew if I was in the race officially or not.  So, I gave myself extra time to get to the start just in case there was a problem.  I left the house at 9 AM and arrived at the race area about 9:30.  I followed the crowd to the packet-pick up area.  My name wasn't on the registration list, since I had sent in the form at the last minute, so I directed to the ‘incidents’ line.  There, they did have my registration information, however, I needed to take a few more steps to be officially entered in the race.  The man at the incidents line handed me a red ticket and told me to proceed to the race announcer’s van and give him my information directly (again) to be officially entered into the system.  Why the registration papers in the 'incidents' line couldn't be delivered to the van man directly by say, the man in the incident line, thereby taking the van man out of the picture for me, I will always wonder.  But, I followed directions and took my red ticket to the van.  The man there asked for my name and birth date, handed me a  race number and then finally, I was officially registered.  I walked back to the pick-up area for some pins (for my race bib) and then to the bathroom.  I walked past the line for the men’s bathroom and right into the women’s bathroom.  That is to say that there was NOT a line for the women’s bathroom, but there was for the men’s.  It was like a parallel universe.  Nevermind that there was no toilet paper- I didn’t have to wait in line!

The kids race was first.  I don’t know how far they ran- maybe 2K.  Our race started at 10:20 (it was originally scheduled for 10).  By that time, not only was I weary from my half hour walk to the start, I was running at an unusually late hour (for me) and the sun was up and baking me (I may be exaggerating with the word ‘bake’, but still…).  What other disadvantage could I have?  Hills and fast runners, that’s what else.  I don’t think there are any slow runners in Spain.  If there are, they don’t go to races apparently.  I was one of the last people to finish.  There were maybe 50 people behind me.  And I was running approximately 8:30/mile.  Anyway, if you have ever run a 5K or a 10K in the US you know that although ultimately you run a distance in kilometers, each mile is marked off during the course (it's quite contradictory now that I think about it).  Kilometers mean something to Spaniards though, so in this race each one was marked.  I could use only the 5K and 10K markers to measure my pace.  I tried to do the math in miles/hour before those but I was distracted by running up hills and minding the uneven terrain, dog poop and puddles (it rained all day yesterday).

After finishing the race, we got our bibs scanned (notice the barcode to the left) to show we finished and then we waited in a monstrous line to get our t-shirts and other goods:

Not shown:  Cruzcampo beer, a plate of garbanzo beans and the raffle ticket. Yes, I walked over a mile back (through town) to the piso will a 2-liter bottle of water, a sack of potatoes, a bag of onions, an orange, a banana, bread, two sports drinks, a granola bar and an Aldi ad.  PLUS:

The race t-shirt! Since the race was called ‘El naranjo’ (the orange tree), of course the shirt should be orange.

The Day with the First Jar of Mustard.

That’s right.  I found it! A jar of Dijon mustard.  It was over 2 Euros (around $3), but it was quite simply the best investment I have made thus far in Spain.  I am eating a turkey sandwich with mustard, onions and wheat bread as I type this.  Let me go into more detail about this delicious sandwich- beyond the mustard.  The turkey tastes like turkey, not like ham or some mystery meat- turkey!  Then, the bread: after I found the mustard at the grocery store, I went to find the panadería for the bread that was made fresh today.  When I finally found it, I reached for the wheat baguette and was shocked- it was warm!  The baker had just put it out on the shelf and it was still warm!  It was at that point I knew I was going to have an amazing dinner.  And it is:  spicy mustard, turkey-tasting turkey, crunchy onions and a crispy baguette.  It tastes even better than a US turkey sandwich because you can’t beat European bread (did I mention it was still warm when I chose it in the grocery store?).  

Before all this grocery store 'excitement', I went to the bank and paid 9 Euro for the race this Sunday.  They gave me a receipt of payment, which I faxed, along with my entry form, to the race in order to sign myself up. I hope they got it. We’ll see on Sunday. (I also hope a get a t-shirt, but there was no mention of this on the website.)  My roommate, Clarisse is going to cheer me on!  (My other roommate goes away every weekend to Málaga, so my cheering section will be a party of one.)

Next, I spent 3 hours at school surfing the Internet and attending the English department meeting.  The meeting lasted approximately 5 minutes.  My schedule changed a little bit because there is some drama with certain classes not having a conversation time (where students and go and chat with the native English speakers).  The resolution to the drama is that I will work an extra hour on Tuesdays and have one less hour of scheduled preparation time for my classes during the week.  I feel like it’s not a great thing to have more work and less ‘official’ time to plan or make photocopies, etc.  If I don’t have enough time for that kind of thing, I’ll have to give my opinion about the changes.

In TIE news- I got an e-mail from the Spanish government giving me a time for my second appointment:  November 2.  Remember that at that appointment I hand in my photos, give my fingerprints and hand in more forms.  They process everything and alert me via e-mail when my card is ready.  Note to Spanish Government:  My student visa expires on December 16.  Will you have it ready by then? (I’m acting so American right now, aren’t I?) Well, if the deportation process takes as long as the temporary resident application process, I’ll be fine.

This weekend is a long weekend.  There is no class on Monday or Tuesday.  I think Spain is celebrating the greatest investment it ever made- financing Columbus’ journey to the New World.  Two days are needed to reflect on the genius of this investment that took place just 518 years ago.  That means that I have a four-day weekend to spend here in Alcalá without any (free) Internet.  I’m not even sure that the pay-Internet place is open.  Indeed the weekends are some sort of torture.  Maybe I’ll go into the city and hang out with Shaelyn or Megan.  Or maybe I’ll call Loly…Or maybe I’ll just write another blog entry.

I try to teach myself Spanish by watching my Friends DVDs with Spanish subtitles.  I think it’s going to work, don’t you?

Missy/Melissa

Time

I have had no concept of time since I arrived here in Spain.  I think the problem started on the plane ride.  On flights to Europe, they feed you dinner at the correct time (based on where you came from), and then shortly thereafter they turn off the cabin lights for bedtime.  Three hours later the lights are back on, you’re fed breakfast and you’re told it’s morning.  Your body doesn’t really agree, but the sun shining in your eyes certainly makes a strong case for it being true.  I’d think that most travel to Europe is just like any of several other nights in your life where you stayed up too late or were nervous about something and just couldn’t get any sleep.  Your body somehow adjusts to the lack of sleep and moves on.  Your body knows its schedule and it finds it again, albeit off by seven hours or so.  Mine was accustomed to hearing the alarm go off, sleeping for another hour, getting up, working out and going to work for 8 hours.  Most evenings were low-key and bedtime was usually around 9 or 10.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  When the sun comes up, you are up and when the sun goes down, you sleep, for the most part. 

Here, it’s different (except for the part where my alarm goes off and I go back to sleep for awhile).  Sure, people are up in the morning.  The hustle and bustle starts a little later, at about 8 or 8:30 and continues until about 2.  By hustle and bustle I mean that people are out on the streets- going to work, walking to school, washing the sidewalks, stopping by the café to grab a cup of coffee or chatting with some neighbors.  Stores aren’t really open at this point. That seems to happen slowly during the nine o’clock hour.  Lines form at the bank (I waited 20 minutes to find out whether or not they would cash my traveler’s check- the answer was ‘no’ by the way.), people window shop and chat with store owners, taxi drivers park in the designated spots and get out of their cars and talk to one another.  This goes on until about 2, when the sun is high in the sky.  Then banks close, stores lock up their metal doors (except for a few grocery stores and restaurants) and people disappear from the sidewalks.  Everyone is heading home for lunch and yes, sometimes a siesta.  It’s sunny and 76 degrees.  My brain thinks it’s either a holiday, I’m in a movie, or there is some sort of disaster that’s about to strike and I am unaware of the pending danger. The real answer, of course, is that this is the Andaulsian schedule.  People will start heading back out to the streets, stores re-open (but not banks) and cars start passing by again in a few hours. There’s more work, dinner, and relaxing to do before bedtime. 

But there’s a wrench thrown in it for me: I work in the afternoons.  I get up with the 8 o’clock crowd, work out, get ready, and do something until work starts at around 4/5 o’clock.  I work until 9, come home and eat dinner and relax. I’m on neither a Spanish schedule nor a US schedule.  I look at the clock, see the numbers and shrug.  It means nothing to me.  Noon doesn’t mean lunch, five (or 17) doesn’t mean dinner.  Right now they are just numbers that I use as a guide for deciding when to shower.

It doesn’t help that my computer is set for the Central time zone (I know I can change it, save your e-mails with step-by-step directions- what kinds of things do you think I did at CB?  Well, time zone problem-solving for one, I’ll tell you that.)  It’s nice to have the US time right there in front of me, so I know when I can be on Skype or expect the flood of e-mails (read: SPAM) in my inbox.   

I have a feeling that the lack of what is for me a ‘normal’ change of seasons is going to add to my time-telling confusing.  If I don’t see the leaves change color and fall off the trees, and if I don’t feel freezing cold air and see snow, how will I know what month it is?  Although I have been warned by several Spaniards of the ‘cold’ weather that’s coming our way in just a few months, I’m not shaking in my boots.  In fact, I didn’t even bring boots.  My roommate (from the Caribbean) however, is very nervous about this cold she’s been warned about.  One of the reasons she chose to come to southern Spain was to avoid any cold weather.  I assured her she will succeed in that mission.  I explained that the Spanish winter’s lows of 40 degrees are still running shorts weather.  Sure, we’ll need a sweater and long sleeves, but we won’t need long underwear.  My body’s internal clock makes checkmark next to ‘winter’ when I start wearing long underwear.

Anyway, my work schedule did come in handy yesterday when I had to go into Sevilla for my first appointment in applying for a Tarjeta de Identidad de Extranjero (TIE- pronounces tea-a (as in the letter a). I know my brain must be thinking in Spanish because it just recently occurred to me that ‘tie’ is a word in English).  It’s foreigner identity card that I need to get to be able to stay here for the full 8 months.   The government offices where you have to go to apply for this identity card are housed in the Plaza de España, which you might remember from the opening scenes of one of the Star Wars movies.  More likely, you have just have heard of it because it’s a big tourist destination in Sevilla or you have been there before (Kelly, Meaghan, Anna, Shelley, Renée, Rachel, Mom, Grandma, I’m talking to YOU.  And for all of you that haven’t been there- there’s still time for me to take you there. I’m here until June. Don’t Google it- it’s not the same). 

CIEE (the organization that I came to Spain with) set up an appointment for several of us at 9 AM at the office.  And thank goodness they did.  As I approached the office I saw a large group of people, and I thought to myself, ‘I hope that is a group of tourists taking photos’.  It was a bunch of non-Spanish people, true, but they were not taking photos or wearing fanny packs.  They were all waiting in line to apply for this card.  I heard that without an appointment it is not unheard of to wait for six hours.  With the appointment, I got in at 10:45.  The appointment itself didn’t take very long.  I walked into a room with three desks, sat down at desk #1, and handed Sebastian my papers (the official form, a copy of that form, a copy of my passport, a copy of my travel visa, a copy of my EU customs page from my passport and the original and copy of the letter from the Junta saying that I have a job in Spain).  He entered the information, told me that by the end of the year I’d be fluent in Spanish, stamped my form, gave me the originals back and told me to make appointment #2 via e-mail.  Before appointment #2 I have to go to a bank and pay 10.20 Euros and bring the receipt with me to that appointment (that’s right- you pay bills at the bank, not via mail/check).  That appointment will consist of handing in more papers and giving the government my fingerprints.  That will be followed by a period of waiting and then appointment #3 where I go to pick up my TIE.  Although it’s not really official, I do now know my Spanish identity number.  That’s right- I’m a number in Spain, not just a name.  (Well, I got her numba. How do ya like them apples?’- Goodwill Hunting this time, not Friends). 

And yesterday I gave presentations to two classes- one at the 4^th year level and another at the 2^nd year level.  They seem to know a lot more English than I knew of Spanish at the 2^nd and 4^th year levels.  I am impressed.  In both classes a student asked me what the ethnic groups in Minnesota are.  The one they stumped me with was what the typical foods in Minnesota are.  I don’t know exactly what they are, but I know they are not what people in Spain eat.  I was so busy being stumped by computer/website questions for the past 4.5 years that I forgot to pay attention to what was for lunch.  Here are the other things that stumped me in classes this week:

1.      On the board the teacher wrote:  The bandage was wound around the wound.  I didn’t understand where she was going with it.  Then I realized that the first ‘wound’ isn’t pronounced the same way that the second one is.

2.      Do you pronounce Amish as ‘Omish’ or ‘Aim-ish’? I say Omish, they said Aimish.

3.      Is there a difference between admission and admittance?  Would you ever pay an admittance fee?

4.      What is a cable car vs. a tram vs. a ski lift?  They tried to convince me that what is in San Francisco is not a cable car, it’s something that starts with an f. 

5.      Would you ever use the word ‘behaviors’ (with an ‘s’)?  Or is it always singular?

6.      Does ‘Will they be happy?’ have any sort of different meaning over ‘Are they going to be happy?’.  I say that they are completely equal in meaning.  Neither has more certainty or a more negative connotation.

In other news, I’m signing up for an 11K race, wait, the website has a note on it saying they are changing it to a 10.7K race.  I’m not going to try to figure out why.  I’m just excited to run a race in another country.  I hoping to be the first United States Citizen to cross the finish line.  Here's the link to the race's website, if you are interested:

http://www.carrerapopularelnaranjo.com/joomla/

Now I’m off to give my presentation to a couple more classes.

-Melissa/Missy

Up to Speed

I have been in Spain (physically) since Monday, but am just beginning to realize where I am.  I’ve gone to a country where the majority of the people drink coffee (and it’s STRONG), eat fried foods, smoke, get up late and stay out late, leave Sunday completely work-free every week and errand-free, rarely work out, live to talk to anyone and everyone, have one speaking volume (LOUD), aren’t picky about food preparations, aren’t afraid to speak up/take their turn, don’t get anxious about having to stand in long lines everywhere, don’t have a large area of personal space, and aren’t scared to just throw leftovers in the refrigerator without any kind of cover (container, plastic wrap or plastic bag).  Essentially I have gone to a country where the majority of the population is in complete opposition of the essence of me.

But I knew what I was getting myself into.  I remember lots of things from my life here almost a decade ago.  So I was prepared for the loud voices and screaming kids that could be heard from my window throughout the night.  And for the bath that isn’t a tub, but isn’t a real shower either- the kind with the long, hose-like cord with a shower head on the end that doesn’t actually hang overhead, so you never have a free hand.  To scrub your shampoo in you have to shut off the water, set down the hose, lather, pick up hose, turn on the water and rinse.  Did I mention that you also have to remember to turn on the hot water before you shower?  And I was prepared for the stares of shock, horror and confusion as I ran down the street in my running outfit made of a polyester wicking fabric.  And I wasn’t as uncomfortable when the store clerk at the department store stood closer to me than I would stand to a friend in a crowded elevator while I looked through the store’s selection of sheets.  Those (and others) were all things I expected when I got here, approximately 18 hours after I left Chicago.

At the Sevilla airport, there was a representative from CIEE to escort us to a large bus that would take us to the hotel.  Charter bus transportation is awesome when you have two 50 pound suitcases, an overweight laptop case and an over-stuffed backpack to worry about lugging around.  I brought way too much stuff.  If I had to pack over again, I wouldn’t have brought a large bag of cotton balls (what I was going to use them for, I don’t know), 4 purses, and so many sweaters.  I may need the sweaters at some point, but right now, I need tank tops and shorts.  Those scientists are really on to something when they talk about places closer to the equator being hotter than those farther away.  The mornings are perfect (maybe 50 or 60), but during the day it gets up to 35 degrees Celsius, which I can tell you is hotter than I can stand, especially without air conditioning. Although, that whole Celsius thing prevents me from really understanding how hot it is.  Luckily my experience in 10Ks and 5Ks helps me with distances, so I am only a third in the dark when it comes to measurements (as far as weights, I only know that 1 kg is 2.2 pounds).

But back to the hotel, the group of over 100 Auxiliares (my job title in Spanish) stayed at the hotel in Sevilla for 1 or 3 nights.  I say these numbers because there was a general labor strike on our scheduled travel day (night 2).  For this reason some people left after one night and others left after three.  Those that left after one night missed our one day of orientation.  I was happy to stay as long as possible, since the hotel had a free breakfast (that I actually missed two days because I got up too late and ran too long.  It was worth it though- missing breakfast is less traumatizing than missing running.) So here are my days in Sevilla:

Day One (September 27):  arrived at 5:30, went to hotel, met and roomed with Shaelyn, the other English Auxiliar at my school.  We had an hour orientation and a tapa and wine/champagne cocktail party.  Here’s what was served, to give you an idea of Spanish food:  tortilla Española, a steak skewer, salmon on a skewer, calamari, and manchego cheese with a half a grape (on a stick).

Day Two (September 28):  Ran along Guadalquivir River in Sevilla.  I missed breakfast again.  Then we went to 6 hours of orientation (plus lunch of potato and calamari soup with a side of tortilla Española).  At the orientation they explained things like how to find an apartment, how to apply for a temporary resident card (and what a hassle it will be), how to get a Spanish bank account and how to get a Spanish cell phone.  Afterwards, I went shopping for sheets (beds are different sizes than in the US) and towels (also different sizes, they have a bath towel, medium towel, small towel and washcloth.  US hand towels are between the medium and small-sized towels).  (As a side note, when I got the sheets to my new bed, they did not fit.  I got the smallest (adult) ones that store had, but apparently I am sleeping on a child’s bed.  I refuse to use sheets with pink flowers and fairies or racecars on them though, so I’m sticking with the too-large ones.)

This was also the day my CD-ROM drive sassed back to me and told me the Friends DVDs I brought were a different format than that of my CD-ROM drive.  I was in no mood to have my computer tell me I couldn’t watch Friends for the next 3 months, and then 4.5 after that.  Luckily, we came to an agreement- it would let me watch them, but I would have to admit that my region was now the US.  Agreed.

Day Three (September 29):  This was the general strike day.  As I understand it, those dealing with public transportation/government workers were supposed to strike, along with anyone else who wanted to in order to show their support.  That meant that buses didn’t run (with the exception of some essential ones that ran every hour or so), the airport was closed (yup, you read that right), and there were no taxis on the roads. I actually found the decrease in traffic quite nice for running and walking around the city.  During the night some people had gone through the ‘downtown’ area putting up stickers on stores saying that they were ‘Cerrado por la huelga’ (closed for the strike). The problem was that not all stores were really closed for the strike. And the stickers they put up were not easily removed. I saw some workers at a coffee shop (Starbucks as a matter of fact) using some sort of scraper and soap and water to get the sticker off, in the hopes of attracting more business.  The stickers did the job of confusing the government about how much support the huelga really had.

Anyway, the day began with running along the river again, then I met up with Megan, the person who worked at my school last year (and wanted to go back there, but couldn’t).  She told me all about the school and what to expect.  We walked around the city all day (I still remember how to get around Sevilla, for the most part!) getting lunch, a Spanish cell phone (call me- incoming calls are free for me, even international) and eating the best kiwi ice cream I have ever had in my life.  (Fine, I have never had kiwi ice cream before, but I’m sure this would win anyway.)  I think we walked about 10 miles in all.  I was exhausted. (How did the Proclaimers walk 500 miles and then 500 MORE?). 

Day Four (September 30):  This was the first hard day in Spain.  I was determined not to miss breakfast, so I got up and dressed and went down to the dining room intending to steal food and bring it up to the room to eat after my run.  Unfortunately, the buffet did not cater to take-out.  I had a plan though.  I piled food on my plate, sat at a table near the door, ate some of the fruit and tortilla Española and then stuffed as much of the rest as I could into my napkin.  Then, I ran out before I could be seen breaking any etiquette rules.  After my run and shower, I met Megan on the bus so she could show me where to get off in Alcalá and how to get to my school.  It took maybe 40 minutes to get to Alcalá on the bus at 11 AM.  First, we went to the piso (flat/apartment) to take a look. (There are 3 bedrooms, two bath, a small living/dining room and a small kitchen (by American standards).  It’s on the 4^th floor of the building and luckily there’s an elevator. I can run 10 miles but I have a hard time with four flights of stairs.) José is one roommate and our spokesman.  He also speaks perfect English (if you count British English as perfect English). (NOTE TO JOSE: Don't get a big head about the 'perfect English part')

Next, we stopped over at the school and took a tour and met some of the staff.  With nothing left to do in Alcalá, we headed back to Sevilla to get lunch and wait until 6 PM when the Director of the school would pick me and my suitcases up. CIEE had actually given each Auxiliar a bus/train ticket to their town.  Since my town is so close to Sevilla, we just got 3 Euros for the city bus.  I have enough experience with suitcases on the bus (in the US) to know that the bus isn’t going to allow me to ride with my 2 heavy suitcases and two other overloaded bags, even if I were actually strong enough to lift them all onto the bus. Megan said that last year she tried to take her suitcase on the bus, and when it came the bus driver took a look at her, then her suitcase and then closed the door and drove off.  If not for the Director, I would have spent the equivalent of about $45 on a taxi. He not only came to Sevilla to pick me up, he took Megan almost to her house across the city, picked up my new roommate, Clarisse, and her friend in a town about 35 minutes away.  He then took her friend back to Sevilla (during the U2 concert traffic) so she could catch a bus to her teaching town. The trip took about 3/3.5 hours total. 

José got back from teaching shortly after Clarisse and I arrived.  As we unpacked he cooked up some pizzas in the oven.  While I was happy to unpack things and looked forward to no longer living out of a suitcase, it struck me that I was going to be here for awhile. 

During dinner I learned that Clarisse is from Martinique, an island in the Caribbean.  She is a native French speaker, but knows Spanish and can read English and speak a little.  I think she is being modest about how much English she knows. After dinner José explained everything about the house (paying rent, utilities, sharing fridge space, how to run the washer, etc.

Day 5 (October 1):  Surprise!  I got up and went running.  But first, I was going to charge my GPS running watch.  So I put on the special plug that made it the correct shape to fit in the Spanish plug and then plugged it in.  However, there is an important step I forgot:  to also attached the voltage converter.  As a result of this misstep, it took 10 seconds before I heard a pop and then saw smoke coming from my charger.  Luckily, the watch still turns on, however, not for long, since I have no way to charge it.  How will I know how far I’ve really run?  You are probably thinking, “I swear I just saw someone running without a GPS watch, so I’m pretty sure you could do it too.” Well, as my Dad would say, ‘The cemetery is full of people who didn’t wear GPS watches while running.’.  Exactly my point, Dad. 

Well, I did end up running without my GPS (I know the suspense of whether or not I went running was killing you).  It was my first time running in Alcalá.  This town has a lot of hills. I’ll have to take pictures soon, so that you can see what I am talking about and how I am not exaggerating (this time).  During my run I found a gym (hopefully with a pool- I’m going to check it out tomorrow) and the big park/trail system. It’s pretty sweet- lots of trees to shade you from the blistering sun and lots of people use it.  I even saw another woman runner!  I’m not sure what they call the underfooting makes up the trail.  The best way to describe it is rock covered up with the native golden-colored Spanish soil. 

But the real news of today is that it was the first official day of work, so Clarisse and I made the 15 minute trek through town to get to the school (which is at the top of a hill).  Fridays are 2-hour department meeting days.  I basically just got my schedule and an employment verification letter (that I need to open a Spanish bank account) and met all the English and French teachers.  Meeting so many people meant giving dos besos (the greeting of two kisses) to a total of 9 people, I believe.  For a person whose personality profile says that to work best with me, ‘Don’t touch Melissa or her belongings’ it was a big step out of my comfort zone.

I knew this already (Megan had explained it), but the students at the school all learn British English.  All books, dictionaries, worksheets and listening activities are in British English. That means both the students and the teachers speak with British accents and say things like ‘whilst’ and ‘fetch me’ and they say toe-mah-toe. So while the students learn British English, I will too. Maybe I will finally understand what Madonna went through. 

My schedule is working on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, with 2 rotating weekly time schedules.  Week A, I work Tuesdays from 9:15 AM – 1 PM., Wednesdays from 4:15-9:00, and Thursdays from 5:30-9.  Week B, I have class on Mondays from 4:15-7:45, Wednesdays from 4:15-9 and Thursdays from 4:30 – 7:45.  Each Friday I also have to be there from 11-1 for the department meeting.  As Megan tells it, there are a few weeks throughout the year where the students have testing, so the Auxiliares don’t have to come to work at all.  Last year, one of those weeks was right before Christmas, so she was done with class more in mid-December rather than right before Christmas.  Then, near the end of her time in Spain last year, there was another week of tests, so she was done in Mid-May rather than at the end of the month.  That’s good news on the one hand, because when else in life will I have this much vacation?  If I can save money, it will be great to travel! 

After lunch and a siesta (best sleep I’ve had since I got here), Clarisse and I went to an Internet place and checked our e-mail for about an hour.  I tried so hard to get into Facebook, but since the Spanish keyboard is different (for example, the 7 key has the / above it and the / and the @ symbols require three fingers to appear.  Not to mention that the : is where the . key is and the ñ key is where the colon is on the American keyboard.  All of this mixed-up key placement made it impossible for me to type my Facebook password correctly.  My fingers can type the password on their own (on a US keyboard), but it’s not correct on the Spanish one when they make the same movements. (My fingers flail about as if independent from my body. HA.)  That, coupled with the e-mails from home that made me miss it already, brought me to watery eyes in the Internet place.  A trip to the Chinese store next door made it a little better.  I got some hangers (15), toilet paper and a Tupperware-style container (for my leftovers, of course).  All for about $7.50 (5.40 Euros).  I'm sure I'll be going back for more later- it’s like a Target away from home.

On the agenda for tomorrow:  more exploration of the large park/trail system, a visit to the gym to scope out a pool and membership prices and a trip to the bank to open an account. The last two are probably not possible on a Saturday and I’ll have to push them to Monday. Also on the schedule for this week- Wednesday at 9 AM in Sevilla I have the first of many appointments to get my temporary residency card. I’m sure that will come with a great story or two. 

Spanish culture note:  un toque is what it means to call someone on their cell phone and hang up after one ring.  Because cell phones are so expensive to use here in Spain, people don’t talk on them long.  And if they can avoid talking on them at all, they do.  So, if you are meeting a friend somewhere, and you want to let them know you have arrived, you give them un toque (a touch, or maybe it could be translated like the Facebook ‘poke’).  Note:  Incoming calls and texts on my cell phone are free (from ANYWHERE).  It may cost you 25 cents to text me, but think of the joy it will bring me! 

-Melissa/Missy