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