Just Another Spanish Sunday (Torres Vigías de Barbate)

I usually don't do much on Sundays. In fact, I usually just leave the house to go running and then not again until Monday morning, when I leave to go running. It's not like I plan it, it's just that I have nothing to do and most of the time I don't make a conscious effort to get out. I was feeling kind of lame; I wanted to feel productive on Sunday for once, so I signed up for a hiking trip. The city has a hiking and 'multi-adventure' program that offers two or three trips of varying difficulty every Saturday and Sunday. The prices are 17€ and 29€ respectively. The price includes the bus ride there and back and a guide or two to lead you down the right paths. This program works with several hiking/rowing/sporty groups around the city. The group you are traveling with determines the place from which the bus will leave. One of the groups leaves nine-tenths of a mile from my piso and others leave from the other side of town (I haven't run there, so I can't tell you the exact distance). Your piso's distance from the pick-up point could be a big factor in your choice of hiking trip when you consider that the bus leaves at 8 or 8:30 AM on Saturday or Sunday.

I was up for a challenge, so I chose the 15 km hike called Torres Vigías de Barbate (The Watchtowers of Barbate) whose bus pick-up location was on the other side of town. The group's website describes the hike like this:

El Parque Natural del acantilado y pinar de Barbate es un auténtico tesoro ecológico de la zona. Una bella y estupenda extensión de pinos piñoneros replantados a principios de siglo para frenar las dunas móviles que avanzaban por la ladera del monte.

Indelebles torres vigías que permanecen ancladas sin tener ya piratas enemigos sobre los que alertar. Un lugar desde donde quizá, un día, hace 200 años, alguien se quedó mirando hacia el Oeste, hacia aquella batalla naval que libraban las flotas inglesas y franco-española frente al cabo llamado Trafalgar.

Sendero cómodo que se puede recorrer, sin grandes excesos físicos y con vistas muy gratificantes.

To sign up you go to the group's website and entered your first name, last names (in Spain everyone has two), ID number, e-mail, phone number, zip code, and agree to the terms of use. I attempted to enter this information online, but received an error message that what I entered was not correct. I assumed it was my ID number (which is different because I am a foreigner), but I entered all the information again and submitted it again to see what would happen. This time I saw the error message said that my last names were incorrect: last names must have at least 5 characters and no more than 50. This presented a problem, since I have only one last name and it has only four characters. Since I have no money to buy a vowel (Alex), I used those 50 characters to explain that I had only one last name and it was only four letters. I pressed 'submit' and away it went.

On Sunday morning I met my friend, Katie, near our pisos and we took a taxi to the bus pick-up near the main train station. It only cost about 8€ total, so it was worth the extra sleep we got. We loaded the bus on time, but didn't actually pull away from the bus stop until 8:50 AM. And then we had to stop to fill up on gas. Once we were on the road, we traveled for an hour or so and then (in true Spanish fashion) stopped for a quick breakfast/coffee/bathroom break. By the time we got to Barbate it was 11:50 AM.

The route was absolutely awesome to start. It was right by the ocean and supposedly the grey area you could see at the edge of the ocean was Africa. We walked for a little bit and came upon watchtower #1.

Tower #1. I don't know who those men are.

The view from behind the watchtower was better:

A little further down the path we saw:

A giant beetle

El mar

We had reached the end of the first leg of the hike and we were faced with a decision: stay at the beach until the bus left at 4:30 or continue on the hike and see the other watchtower and a great view. We didn't think there was a wrong answer and so, since we came to hike, we chose to hike.

The second half of the hike was an hour uphill climb to tower #2.

I haven't seen a lot of watchtowers in my life, but yet, I was still disappointed when I saw this one. It was not what I was expecting after reading the colorful description of the hike. ('Extra, extra, four men swindled!') I thought we would hear some harrowing tale or even get to enter the tower. Nada. No one climbs uphill for an hour to see this tower on purpose. The view is nice, but so is the view from the beach.

Where the Battle of Trafalgar took place

We ate lunch near the watchtower. One of the hikers had brought a bota of wine and passed it around for all to enjoy. I think he knew the disappointment we were all feeling after walking uphill for an hour and giving up an afternoon on the beach, only to feast our eyes on a giant concrete cylinder marred by graffiti.

The trip down went a little faster. At the bottom, the bus was nowhere to be found so the guide told us to sit down, relax and have a coffee while we waited for it. After about a half hour the bus rolled up near the cafe/restaurant and honked. We hopped on and headed down to pick up the beach-goers, who were eager to hear where we had been and what we had seen (to which the tour guide replied, "You should have come with us if you were so curious.") After about an hour of travel, we paused for another coffee/bathroom/snack break. (I remember this about my study abroad experience. Every time we took a bus trip we stopped for a snack/coffee. It was always at the truck stop with the bullring in it. Somehow, no matter where we went, that truck stop was on the way. I regret that I have not had the pleasure of returning recently.)

We rolled back into Sevilla around 7:30, took the city bus home and reflected on a productive Sunday.

There are no words...

In a recent issue of my favorite magazine, there was a list of foreign words that don't exist in English, but they believe should be added to the dictionary. These words sum up in one word what it can take a few sentences to explain in English. It's like the German word schadenfreude: enjoyment obtained from the troubles of others, especially one who has been exceptionally privileged and fortunate in the past. It perfectly captures the feeling you have when, say, a brown-nosing co-worker gets called into the boss' office and put on probation.  While similar words exist in English (like gloat), they are not exactly the same, nor are they as much fun to say.

Now I, by no means, know every English word, much less every Spanish word, but there are a few common words in English that I struggle to find a common equivalent to in Spanish. For example, the word 'procrastinate'. There is no one single word to describe this verb. Sure, there is delay, postpone, or push back, but when it comes to a synonym in Spanish, the dictionary can only say 'to leave things for later'. I think there could be two possible explanations. One is that necessity is the mother of invention: English speakers tend to intentionally leave things until the last minute so a verb was created to describe the action. The other possible explanation is that procrastinating is more socially acceptable in one culture versus the other. Maybe purposely leaving something until the very last minute still falls under the category of 'getting it done' and carries no negative connotations with it, so no verb is necessary. Just last night, though, the mother of one of the kids I give private lessons to was telling me about a project her daughter had to do and how she'd known about it for a week or so, but was first doing it now. She said she always leaves things for the last minute. I guess that puts the kibosh on at least one of my theories.

UPDATE: I've finished doing some research and found that the verb procrastinar is considered a word, according to the Real Academia Española (the official authority on the Spanish language). It is not in either of the online dictionaries that I usually use though, so I am just going to go ahead and assume that it is not used or known by the general population.

Another word that I need to use in Spanish is the word stare. When the kids at school complain that another student is staring at them, they use the verb mirar (to look at, to watch). To say stare the way I want to say it, you would have to say mirar fijamente (to at something intently). In my opinion, it just doesn't have the same negative connotation in Spanish. When walking down the sidewalk in Spain, you will notice the the gaze from fellow citizens will follow you much longer than what is comfortable for someone from the US. As I remember, in the US once you make eye contact with a person you are passing on the sidewalk, you switch your gaze. They don't play by those rules here. The starers in this country are mostly men as opposed to women, and there doesn't seem to be a time limit on observing a passerby. While in the US, the person would have crossed into 'staring' territory after maybe three seconds, they are still in 'mirando' territory in Spain even after twenty seconds, as far as I can tell. 

A Spanish word that English is lacking is the word estrenar (to use or wear for the first time). Wearing a new outfit for the first time can be exciting. Asking someone, 'Are those new shoes?' sounds so vanilla compared to '¿Estrenas zapatos?' But clothes aren't the only thing you can use estrenar for: new car, using the new light rail for the first time, using a new pen, a new gym, whatever. Doing something or going somewhere for the first time is exciting and English lacks a solid verb to express this small, but exciting part of life.

And a word that I recently picked up at the 'cole' (the elementary school): muda. It appeared on a preschool field trip information sheet for parents. The parents were instructed to send their child to school the morning of the field trip with a bottle of water and 'una muda' (a change of clothes/underwear). I feel like less is more when talking about underwear.

And I quote

Ah, the niños:

- "That shirt looks like something my mother would wear."

- It was quiet, so I was playing a song on my iPod while the two students in my private lesson colored. I chose one of my favorites. "It was better without the music." (For the record, it's was a song from Shrek.)

- A few minutes later Single Ladies by Beyoncé came on. It was loud, so I turned it down.  "No, turn it up. I like that song," said the little first grade boy.

- "Say something in Spanish," the student said to me.
   "What do you want me to say?"
   "Anything, just talk in Spanish."
    So I did...
   "See," the student said to another, "She sounds German. hehehehehe"

- "Melissa, do you want a cookie?"
   "No, thank you, that's your snack."
   "Yes, but I can give you one. Or did you already have your snack?"

- A first grader was eating a chorizo sandwich. He took out a piece of meat and handed it to me. "Oh, thank you," I said just as the greasy piece of meat slipped out of my fingers and onto the floor. "Oh, dear." I picked it up and walked to the garbage. The student tried to stop me, arguing that it was still good to eat. I threw it away anyway. He made an annoyed sound and pulled another piece of meat from his sandwich. "That's the last one you get!" He told me.

-A first grader recently hurt her foot and was walking with a walker. The next time I saw her she was completely healed. I asked her (in Spanish) how her ankle was. "What?" she asked. I tried again. "What? I don't understand English. The problem is that you speak as much Spanish as I speak English, so we can't understand each other." (Yeah...that's it....)

Salamanca

There are 17 autonomous communities in Spain. I thought a good goal would be to visit all of them. In an effort to conserve time and money, I decided that the regions I visited in previous trips to Spain would count towards my goal, if necessary. The Canary Islands, Catalunya, Castilla La Mancha and Madrid would fit into this 'if necessary' pile. I stayed overnight and took photos of monuments in all of them, so they count, regardless of whether or not the photos/hotel stays happened in 1998. If you count those, I have visited 10 of the 17. After visiting Salamanca, in Castilla y León, the number is up to 11. Salamanca is a university town near Madrid. It's home of the oldest university in the country (founded in 1218) and is the current headquarters for teaching Spanish to foreigners.

This particular weekend was a 'puente' (long weekend) due to the Día de Andalucía (Andalucía Day. Sevilla is in the Andalucía community) celebration on February 28. (By the way, the celebration started in 1980, when a lot of good things started.)

In the interest of saving money, I decided to take the bus to Salamanca instead of planes and/or trains (there are no direct planes/trains). The ride was 7 hours there and 8 hours back (because the route on the way back was different: there were more stops.) On any given weekday I usually ride the bus about 3 hours anyway, so what's 4-5 more? I left Sevilla on Saturday morning and got into Salamanca in the late afternoon. The 7 hour bus ride wasn't actually that bad. They played Twilight and some Marvel Comics movie, so it went pretty fast. I watched Twilight and then listened to the bus radio on the rest of the ride. They played songs like Whitney Houston's I will Always Love You and a song called Perfect (by Fairground Attraction). The songs were on loop, so I learned them well.

On the way from the bus station to the hotel, I stopped at one of the tourist offices to get a map of the city.  This office was in the Casa de las Conchas (The Shell House).

I found the hotel, dropped my bags off and headed out. Even though I had a map, I didn't use it. I decided to just walk around and see what I could see. I figured when I wanted to get back to the hotel I could pull out the map and get there.

It worked out quite well. I saw quite a few things and got a feel for the layout of the city. I didn't know exactly what I was seeing, but I figured that I would figure it out the next day.

Plaza Mayor

More Plaza Mayor

Inside the library/Casa de las Conchas looking at the Clercía.

Photo art exhibit showing photos from
the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939)

Patio de las escuelas- looking at the Historical U building

There is a frog carved in the façade of this university building in Salamanca. Supposedly if you find it, you will have good luck. It is a big tourist attraction. People stand outside the building and try to find it. (Look closely at the photo and you'll see the people are looking up.) I didn't know this. The first day I walked past the building and saw the people gathered at the entrance and just thought, 'Oh, those people must be a tourist group waiting to get inside.' And I went on my merry way.

Looking closer at the U buildings façade. Look for the frog.

Church and Museum of San Esteban

Self portrait in a borrowed jacket.

The next morning I got up and went running. I headed towards the river because where I come from, the river has the best running in town. In this case the river was the Tormes River.

I headed out to explore again after my run. I wish I could tell you I used the map this time, but the truth was that there was so much to see in such a small area, that you could pretty much just walk around and see everything. So that's what I did.

The Roman Bridge. 15 of the arches are from the 1st century AC.

The bull. Seen in the city's coat of arms and
 in the novel Lazarillo de Tormes.

Inside the New Cathedral (1733)

Outside the New Cathedral/Plaza de Anaya.

The old Cathedral. Begun in the 12th Century.

Ancient sewer.

The Spanish Civil War Museum

The Civil War and Free Mason Museum, to be exact.

Salamanca Cave. Supposedly where the Devil taught 7 students.

Then it was time for lunch. I had the 'menú' (a three-course lunch) at a restaurant near the cathedrals.

Sopa Castellana: bread, garlic, paprika, egg.

Pork in a mustard sauce.

Chocolate cake.

I then made my way back down to the river and visited the Museo de La Fábrica de Harina. There was absolutely no one else there. In fact, there wasn't even an employee in the museum. But since the door was open and it was supposed to be free, I went in.

Flour mill museum.

View from the Flour Mill museum.

The view of Plaza Mayor from my hotel room.

The view of Plaza Mayor from my hotel room balcony (by day).

At some point, after reading about what to do/see in Salamanca and seeing frogs in the tourist shops, I put it together and, in the half hour I had before I had to head to the bus station to go back to Sevilla, I tried desperately to find the University again to see if I could spot the frog. I did circles around the cathedrals, but couldn't find the building. I even used the map. Somehow, on the third or fourth try, I went through the Escuelas Menores and there it was. With my camera warning me of a low battery, I snapped a few photos and hustled to the hotel to pick up my bags and hoof it to the bus station.

There were things that I didn't get to see in Salamanca, such as the inside of the University, the museum of Salamanca and the cathedrals medieval towers, but at least I could say I saw the frog.

The bus ride home was a whole hour longer and it felt like it too. It might have been the fact that I forgot my headphones the bag in the luggage area under the bus. I was forced to read the subtitles to the Alvin and the Chipmunks movie instead of getting to hear it. (I know that some of you may feel that was a blessing in disguise.) At one of the stops I asked the bus driver if there was enough time for me to get my headphones out of my bag. He said there was, so I got to watch Up in the Air with sound. (And enjoy the bus radio afterwards too.) The movie was in Spanish with Spanish subtitles. However, the subtitles did not often match what the person in the movie said. The meaning was the same, but the words were not. For example, George Clooney swears in the movie. The voice said, 'Damn' but the subtitles said 'Shit'. I guess it was a good way for me to learn synonyms.

When we reached Sevilla, I left the bus station and headed to the bus stop. Although it was the late, and the buses come less frequently, the bus I needed to take to get home was coming around the corner just as I was making my way to the stop. By some miracle, I made it in time. Maybe there is something to that 'finding the frog' legend after all.

I don't know why you say 'adios', I say 'thank-you'

There are a lot of physical things about me that give me away as not being a Spaniard: my (authentically) blonde hair, my body type, my inability to speak Spanish (even my 'hola' has an accent) and my clothes (I have a red coat. 99% of Spaniards don a black, grey, brown or tan-colored coat).

While there are Spaniards that don't fit the usual physical stereotypes, they act like Spaniards to make up for it. There are small habits I have that give me away as a foreigner. If you've ever seen the movie Inglourious Basterds (that's how the title is spelled, I haven't gotten that bad at spelling, yet) you might remember the scene in the German bar where the man orders three beers. He uses his index finger, middle finger and ring finger to signal 'three'. Then all hell breaks loose because the bar patrons (German soldiers) know he is not really German. Germans (according to the movie) use their thumb, index finger and middle finger to signal three.

This is exactly what happens to me in Spain. I can wear different clothes and dye my hair, but my actions will give me away. One of the most obvious situations from which I can't seem to erase my American-ness is in exiting a public place of business. When leaving the grocery store with my food, leaving the bank with my paid 'bill', leaving a clothing store with my purchase or leaving the bus I say, 'Gracias'. And then I roll my eyes at myself. Instead of saying 'Gracias' in these situations, you say 'Adios' or 'Hasta luego'. While it's not rude or offensive to anyone to say 'gracias', it's just not normal.

There is a (chain) German grocery store and I sometimes (ok, pretty often) buy groceries there. The cash register has a little sticker on top reminding the cashiers to say 'Hola, Buenos Días and Gracias'. I don't remember ever hearing the last one. I just don't think it feels right to them.

A teacher at school asked me if it was true that when we got of a bus in the US we said 'thank you'. I said it was (if we said anything at all it was probably 'thank-you' and/or 'see you later.'). Her next question was 'Why?' 'We are thanking the driver for getting us to our destination.' She thought that was strange. She thinks that people in the US say 'thank-you' too much, but that perhaps in Spain they don't say it enough. I have rarely heard the students at school say thank-you. At snack time they will ask you to open their bottle of juice ('Me la abre.') You open it, hand it to them and they are on their way. There are no 'pleases' or 'thank-yous' in the transaction.

Another way I give myself away as American is the amount of personal space I need. While my personal space bubble decreases when I am here, I still need more than most Spanish people. For example, if I'm waiting in line at the grocery store I usually leave significant breathing room between myself and the person in front of me. The person behind me, however, will most likely hit me in the back of the leg with their cart and, since they have gotten as close as they can, will then proceed to empty its contents. It is just close enough for them and too close for comfort for me.

And then there's my water bottle. I carry it around with me so I can be hydrated during the day. I don't believe I know any Spaniard that has this habit, except for the 4-year-olds at my school. They bring a bottle of water and keep it in their backpack. Sometimes they ask if they can have a drink during class. But can you really judge a culture by its 4-year-olds?

To signal 'come here' to someone, I put up my hand, fingers to the sky, palm facing me, and I fan myself with my fingers by moving my wrist forward and backward. In Spain they do almost the same thing, but with fingers pointing to the ground, which for me is a little more awkward. I have to lift my elbow and it's harder to move my wrist back and forth.

And whether or not this is American, I don't know, but it is definitely not Spanish; when I see someone I know, I put my hand up, wave and say 'Hola.' I can't help it. It just happens without me thinking about it. It's like my mind thinks that if I don't raise my hand no one will no what I am trying to say. What I end up saying is 'Hello, I'm not from here.' But I think that goes without saying.

Tales from the CEIP II: Another Brick in the Wall

The school I 'teach' at is far different from the home of the Lakeside Lakeflies, where I spent several of my formative years (or at least different from how I remember it back in the 80s/90s). For one thing, there is no parking lot, grass or kickball field, nor are there are monkey bars, slides or swings. They have a concrete jungle gym instead: soccer court, ping pong tables, a basketball court and nice views of the high school's soccer court. (This presented a problem one day when the high school kids lost their ball and, in an attempt to get someone's attention to get it back, threw rocks into the elementary school's playground, where the four-year-olds were enjoying recess.)

Soccer/Basketball court

Soccer/Basketball court

Ping Pong

You'll also notice the lack of a lunchroom. Granted, Lakeside had a gym that converted to the lunchroom, but they also had a kitchen. The elementary school in Spain has no need for a lunchroom or kitchen because they don't each lunch at school. They have class from 9-11:45, a half hour recess and class again from 12:15-2. Then they go home and eat lunch.

Should you need to use the bathroom while you are there, please bring your own toilet paper and soap, because they don't keep any in the bathrooms. I asked the teachers about that policy and they said it was because the students would make a mess of the bathrooms if there were toilet paper and soap provided in them.  There would be toilet paper and soap in all corners. The alternative is to keep the supplies in the classroom and when a student needs to go to the bathroom, they grab some toilet paper and head down. No, they don't worry about the soap. The first graders use it before snack time to wash their hands, but soap is not associated with using the bathroom, as far as I can tell. Also not provided in the bathroom: hot water. (Nor paper towels or hand dryers.)

The bells at school are different too. There are only two: a bell to start class in the morning and a bell to start class after recess. And rather than the 'Saved by the Bell' sound you might be used to, it's the tornado warning bell sound. I've been there almost four months now and sometimes I still hear it and think, 'Oh good, we don't have to go to class yet, there's a tornado.'

Another contrast is that many of the teachers wear more than one hat: the principal is also the 6th grade teacher, the first grade teacher is also the accountant and the special ed teacher is also the librarian. You also won't see any substitute teachers at the school if a teacher is sick for only a day or two. Instead of calling in a sub for just a short time, the other teachers fill in for the sick teacher during their prep hours.

As far as names go, the kids call the teachers by their first names. That makes me Teacher Melissa, or just plain Teacher. Actually, more often than not you will hear '¡Seño!'(short for Señora or Señorita.) I was confused for awhile on what the word meant. One teacher kept saying, 'Seño, please read.' or 'Seño, por favor,' and I was oblivious to the fact that she was requesting my assistance.

The school is not just an elementary school, but also a preschool, with kids as young as three. I asked if they were required to go to school and this age and the teacher said no. The first grade is the first one that is required. I also asked about the price of preschool. Apparently it's free except for the books, which run about 100€ per year.

Then there are the little differences: the paper is a different size (thank goodness I didn't have to write 15-page papers here), the students don't speak English (as a first language) and they have never had school cancelled because of a snowstorm or too many lakeflies.



Why I must think about what I am saying to four-year-olds:

Another four-year-old asked me why I speak English.
I said, "Because I'm not from Spain. I'm from another country"
She stared at me blankly, trying to wrap her head around that (or trying to understand my accent).
"I live in a different country," I tried.
"But if you live in a different country, do you have to get up really early to get to school on time?"

BC (before cough)

I remember the good old days, the BC days. The days when several hours would go by without a cough. But just before my 31st birthday, something changed.  I started getting sick. "Oh great, I'm going to be sick on my birthday," I remember thinking when I was hoarse in the days preceding the big event. And since then I've had a pet cough that just won't quit (sometimes accompanied by a stuffy nose). I've been to four doctors in two different countries (the US and Spain, in case you thought I went to Portugal or Morocco), but no one has the magic potion to make it go away.

After 5 cough syrups, an inhaler, ibuprofen, an antihistamine, an antibiotic, an x-ray, blood tests and allergy medicine, boxes upon boxes of Kleenex (or other brand tissues) and way too much time off of running for my own sanity, the cough remains. The x-rays are clear and the blood tests show I am anemic and have allergies. To what? Apparently breathing because it never goes away no matter where I am or what the weather is like. The upside to all this is that I can sleep without coughing (for the most part and also until I just typed that and jinxed it). Sometimes I tell myself that I may have this cough the rest of my life, so I have to learn how to live with it. I've never smoked and never worked in a coal mine but I have the cough of a man that did both simultaneously for 35 years. I cough every 30-80 seconds (yeah, I timed it). It makes giving English lessons or talking in general a bit of a challenge. If only there were a piece of plastic stuck in my throat that they could just remove...