Yesterday we had a big day at the Sant Cugat Rugby Club. Children from all over Catalunya went there to play and it was great fun. P. played against 4 other teams and at the end of the day he was all sweaty but sooooo happy. They put "the husband" to work as an official, checking the matches' results and so on.
One surprise for me was that there's loads of girls in the teams and they're very brave and tough. Good for them!
I had a good time, it was really nice to sit under the sun and and get to know some of the other mums. There's two ladies I could be friends with, very nice people; one is an Argentinean married to a Brit and with 2 bilingual kids (or should I say multilingual as they have to deal with 3 languages here), the other is a local lady married to Steve, the guy with the English school I started to work with.
The weather here is fantastic, it was a bit misty early in the morning but at around noon the sun was very worm and nice with a coldish breeze just to remained us that weŕe still in winter. As in Britain, we're having the hottest winter since records began, nice but worryingly in the long term view. A pity for us because I was looking forward to learn to sky a bit but there's not much skiing going on.
Tomorrow I'm having a new group of students. Wish me luck!!
22 January, 2007
20 January, 2007
Big brother and Spain
Yesterday, in my advance level class, my students asked my what was the big hullabaloo about the current Big Brother.
I've never seen Big Brother, ever, and that particular show is certainly not on my list of things to watch here. So I didn't have a clue of what they were talking about. They told me that they've seen on the local news that there were loads of complains about allegations of racism on the program, that people in Bombay were incensed and that even the Prime Minister has been talking about it in the Parliament.
My students were not surprised that some contestant can make a racist remark, you can find that sort of people all over the world, but they were indeed surprised that a sort of private action, albeit one done in a very public way, could have such resonance on the society.
That lead us to a very interesting talk about the cultural differences between the Spanish and the British. Both countries have an imperial (and quite bloody) past but their own perspective and vision of their history and the outcome of and relation with their former colonies are very different indeed.
I did promised my student to do some research and about the allegations, and I did find out some videos in the net about the row between Sherpa and Jade Goody. I said that I never seen Big Brother before, but of course I knew of Jane Goody, she was a sort of national calamity and she´s infamous precisely because she was a contestant in a previous Big Brother show and she also has done a few tv shows on her own, cashing in her down-to-earth, big-mouthed, totally ignorant person doing it wrong every time. And goodness gracious me, how she outdid herself now.
I took some videos (click here to see it)to the class today and my poor students were none the wiser because they couldn't understand a word of what Jade was shouting (they've never heard the word malarkey before, now they know exactly what that means!). Welcome, dear guys, to the poor man version but very real English.
For all I could see and could understand of what happened, I personally think that big-mouth Jade was totally bitching and bulling the lovely Sherpa but I'm not convince she's been racist. I, for one, can very well imagine Jade shouting that to any other person, in any colour or shape.
My student asked me if the racial tension and racism was particularly bad in the UK, compared with other European countries, and my honest answer was that I think that racism is seen as such a morally wrong thing that normal people would not let one such public remark to go uncensored and that in my view that was a good thing.
I do hope that this will open an honest debate about racism in the UK because not only the white Brits can be racist, sometime racism lurks in the minds and hearts of the so call "ethnic minority" people. My former neighbourhood was a big rough on the edges, (there even was a racist attack to a Indian family in one shop nearby), but the worse outburst of racist language that I've ever heard by far there was an exchange between the Asian owner of a nearby shop and an a couple of Afro-Caribbean teens that he was accusing of trying to steal something. They shouted things at each other that made my skin crawl.
Racism do exist in the UK but certainly not more than in the rest of Europe, if anything it'll be less! And I think is a good step in the right direction that a racist remark or insult is considered to be such a horrible thing.
I really would like to know what do you ladies from the library think of this and what does people say in Bristol. Please, tell me!!
I've never seen Big Brother, ever, and that particular show is certainly not on my list of things to watch here. So I didn't have a clue of what they were talking about. They told me that they've seen on the local news that there were loads of complains about allegations of racism on the program, that people in Bombay were incensed and that even the Prime Minister has been talking about it in the Parliament.
My students were not surprised that some contestant can make a racist remark, you can find that sort of people all over the world, but they were indeed surprised that a sort of private action, albeit one done in a very public way, could have such resonance on the society.
That lead us to a very interesting talk about the cultural differences between the Spanish and the British. Both countries have an imperial (and quite bloody) past but their own perspective and vision of their history and the outcome of and relation with their former colonies are very different indeed.
I did promised my student to do some research and about the allegations, and I did find out some videos in the net about the row between Sherpa and Jade Goody. I said that I never seen Big Brother before, but of course I knew of Jane Goody, she was a sort of national calamity and she´s infamous precisely because she was a contestant in a previous Big Brother show and she also has done a few tv shows on her own, cashing in her down-to-earth, big-mouthed, totally ignorant person doing it wrong every time. And goodness gracious me, how she outdid herself now.
I took some videos (click here to see it)to the class today and my poor students were none the wiser because they couldn't understand a word of what Jade was shouting (they've never heard the word malarkey before, now they know exactly what that means!). Welcome, dear guys, to the poor man version but very real English.
For all I could see and could understand of what happened, I personally think that big-mouth Jade was totally bitching and bulling the lovely Sherpa but I'm not convince she's been racist. I, for one, can very well imagine Jade shouting that to any other person, in any colour or shape.
My student asked me if the racial tension and racism was particularly bad in the UK, compared with other European countries, and my honest answer was that I think that racism is seen as such a morally wrong thing that normal people would not let one such public remark to go uncensored and that in my view that was a good thing.
I do hope that this will open an honest debate about racism in the UK because not only the white Brits can be racist, sometime racism lurks in the minds and hearts of the so call "ethnic minority" people. My former neighbourhood was a big rough on the edges, (there even was a racist attack to a Indian family in one shop nearby), but the worse outburst of racist language that I've ever heard by far there was an exchange between the Asian owner of a nearby shop and an a couple of Afro-Caribbean teens that he was accusing of trying to steal something. They shouted things at each other that made my skin crawl.
Racism do exist in the UK but certainly not more than in the rest of Europe, if anything it'll be less! And I think is a good step in the right direction that a racist remark or insult is considered to be such a horrible thing.
I really would like to know what do you ladies from the library think of this and what does people say in Bristol. Please, tell me!!
18 January, 2007
A word of caution
If and when in this area of Spain, beware of local cakes, they do taste divine but the locals have a penchant for hiding little trinkets inside the cake and tradition say that whoever find them will have good luck. That's pretty good, cute and quaint when you know that there's something hidden and you are looking for it in every mouthful.
When you don't know about this and you go on eating as if there's no tomorrow, you risk breaking a tooth or, like "the husband" here, almost choke to death with a, in this case, a little plastic yellow duck. After P. had to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre on his dad, we recon that "the husband" was pretty lucky not to die anyway thus confirming the tradition.
When you don't know about this and you go on eating as if there's no tomorrow, you risk breaking a tooth or, like "the husband" here, almost choke to death with a, in this case, a little plastic yellow duck. After P. had to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre on his dad, we recon that "the husband" was pretty lucky not to die anyway thus confirming the tradition.
17 January, 2007
Another fiesta
This time I don't have a clue why we were having a fiesta in Sabadell, we just had, plus a tasty round cake to go with it.
Just a few minutes ago, while I was busy preparing my class for tomorrow, "the husband" called and told me to go and join him at the centre of Sabadell, he just came out of the tube and he was faced with a fiesta.
So, P and I run there and founded the usual: police closing roads, crowds of people and a parade. This time the parade was very country like, with loads of horses, beautifully dressed and handsome riders with traditional dresses and weirdly enough, some girls dressed in the very British horse-riding black tunic. There was also some carts pulled by all sort of horses, from tiny ponies to Arab-looking horses and even one lovely donkey, all lavishly decorated.
As it seems to be a sort of tradition here, the people on the carts were throwing candies to the onlookers, and to some of the horse-riders too, sometimes engaging in a mock battle with another cart or pelting their friends on foot when they saw them, to the general amusement and cries of "Ole!" from the crowd.
While I'm writing this, I'm also googling for info about what was g
oing on. Today is the day of Saint Antony Abad and he was the saint patron of farm and domestic animals. That explain the horses. Here in Catalunya he's also known as "Sant Antoni del porquet" or Saint Antony of the piglet because his always portrayed with one as you can see here. Apparently, today the farmers can take their horses and other animals to their local church to have them blessed.
oing on. Today is the day of Saint Antony Abad and he was the saint patron of farm and domestic animals. That explain the horses. Here in Catalunya he's also known as "Sant Antoni del porquet" or Saint Antony of the piglet because his always portrayed with one as you can see here. Apparently, today the farmers can take their horses and other animals to their local church to have them blessed.I though than the saint patron of all animals was Saint Francis of Assisi, but I found out that he's the saint of all that there's in nature, thus, the patron of ecology.
Once the parade was over an on our way home we noticed that many people stop at the pastisseria (bread shop) and bought a sort of round bread. So, we bough one too. It's really tasty. Sweet bread with a marzipan and brandy (?) filling, decorated with candied fruit (?) not sure about this. But it taste great.
I wish there was a way were we can find in advance about the fiestas because we've just seem to bump accidentally with them. Well... there's no way to avoid them, as they're always loud event and we live very close to the centre of town. Although I wonder if we're missing some, or if their even better in a village nearby or in Barcelona. The most incredible thing for me is that this are not events for tourist, they're just local fiestas and local people embrace them and participate fully.
I like this.
16 January, 2007
lovely day in downtown Barcelona
I had to take some documents to the Ing bank in downtown Barcelona because I'm opening an account with them, being all fed up with local banks. So, I took the opportunity to wander around the city. Barcelona's just such a beautiful place that every time I go there I feel fortunate to live just a few minutes away.
There's also the local after-Christmas's sale. Here they start only after the 3 kings had left their presents, this year it was on the 13th, and every week thereafter they gave more discounts until all it's gone.
So, I was rubbing my hands with greed and went there with a happy heart and a scared credit card. Then... what a big disappointment!! Yes, all the shops have red "sale" signs, but once you go in you find out that the real sale is confined to a corner of the shop or to the sad contents of a table. Definitely: nothing to write home about. I just bought a diary and that because I need one, now that I'm having more students and all, and it wasn't even particularly cheap.
No worries. The trip is always worthy as Barcelona is a great place to visit.
There's also the local after-Christmas's sale. Here they start only after the 3 kings had left their presents, this year it was on the 13th, and every week thereafter they gave more discounts until all it's gone.
So, I was rubbing my hands with greed and went there with a happy heart and a scared credit card. Then... what a big disappointment!! Yes, all the shops have red "sale" signs, but once you go in you find out that the real sale is confined to a corner of the shop or to the sad contents of a table. Definitely: nothing to write home about. I just bought a diary and that because I need one, now that I'm having more students and all, and it wasn't even particularly cheap.
No worries. The trip is always worthy as Barcelona is a great place to visit.
15 January, 2007
Lazy Sunday
Yesterday we had the laziest Sunday so far in Barcelona. Up until now we spend every single minute we had unpacking, tidying up, cleaning, or whatever was needed at the time around the flat. And believe me, there was always loads to do around here.
On Saturday we did some work before watching "The prisoner of Azkaban" on tv (the one in which the Dementors looked like seaweed according to Patxi) and not much more.
But on Sunday we woke up late and had a wonderful, and unusual for us, breakfast: freshly homemade pancakes with Maple syrup. A colleague of "the husband" came to Barcelona in December and when we met he and his wife gave us a lovely glass of Maple syrup from Massachusetts. We've only seen it on tv, never tried before, so it was a total treat. And it's just delicious! Say what you want about the Americans, but their food do taste good.
For the first time since we're here we didn't have something that needed to be done so we were a bit bemused by that and didn't know what to do. Then P. suggested that we go to Coll Bato, which is a place with wonderful caves where he went with his class last year. It's something like the Cheddar's caves and it's also ne
xt to one of the most beautiful and most visited places in Catalunya: Montserrat, a Monastery built in the middle of the mountains around the 9th century and only just about half an hour from home.
xt to one of the most beautiful and most visited places in Catalunya: Montserrat, a Monastery built in the middle of the mountains around the 9th century and only just about half an hour from home.After more lazing around off we went. But while on route we realised that we were hungry again, and as it was lunch time we stop at a restaurant to eat something, knowing that the food at Montserrat is overpriced and not really good (tourist's trap). This was the first Chinese restaurant we went here and the food was just great. For starters we had dim sum, which is one of my favourite foods and then a whole 3 courses menu. Of course by the time we finished eating we just wanted to sit down and have a siesta.
Just around the corner from the restaurant there was a bowling alley and P. really wanted to go and play. So we changed our plans and went bowling instead. Had a great family time there and by the time we finished, it was too late to go to Coll Bato or Montserrat, so we went back home instead and did nothing much. Brilliant!
Never mind. We have years ahead to visit Montserrat and it'll be probably one of the places where we'll take our visitor. Are you tempted?
13 January, 2007
There's more than tv in life, innit?
Sorry. I've been far too busy watching TV and didn't have time to write.
To my great delight I found out that channel 4 is airing the US version of a Latin American soap opera that my mum used to watch and love sometime ago "Ugly Betty". My mum and other 80 million people loved it.
I'm not sure how good this translation is going to be; meaning not only the language translation but the culture translation as well. Betty was originally living in Colombia, worked for a fashion shop (I think) and all was set in a Latin American environment. In this version Betty is still a clever and sweet but ugly Latina girl, but she lives in New York and work for "Mode" fashion magazine.
The show was such a success that it has been remade for many countries, such as Germany, Russia, Greece, Turkey, Israel, the Netherlands and even Japan.
I've seen it yesterday and it was funny and entertaining.
So, ladies, give it a go.
But. there's more than TV and chocolate in life... allegedly.
The New Year started with a sort of an offer to work with a new language agency. I still don't know for sure if I'll be working for them for long because they're taking their time to make sure I'm good enough for them and I feel I'll be on probation for a while.
Now I'm teaching around 12 hours a week and from the next week I'm going to more or less double my teaching hours, thus doubling my earnings, which is more than alright.
I've got 6 hours with the bosses and owners of a company that make elevators and who are dead set on expanding and taking over the world. Their English is atrocious, (you know, Tarzan stile at their best), and their very keen to learn, which made my job easier. Money is a great incentive.
This year I decided to get myself some text books for teaching as well as my grammar book that I've been using so far.
I also ordered some books to learn how to teach properly on Amazon because I did learn a bit of it while at college but I can do with some help preparing the lessons and some teaching tips. I'm looking forward to get them. Pity there was nothing like "Teaching English for dummies". I did check.
If you came across any book that's particularly good or relevant, please let me know. I need all the help I can get.
To my great delight I found out that channel 4 is airing the US version of a Latin American soap opera that my mum used to watch and love sometime ago "Ugly Betty". My mum and other 80 million people loved it.
I'm not sure how good this translation is going to be; meaning not only the language translation but the culture translation as well. Betty was originally living in Colombia, worked for a fashion shop (I think) and all was set in a Latin American environment. In this version Betty is still a clever and sweet but ugly Latina girl, but she lives in New York and work for "Mode" fashion magazine.
The show was such a success that it has been remade for many countries, such as Germany, Russia, Greece, Turkey, Israel, the Netherlands and even Japan.
I've seen it yesterday and it was funny and entertaining.
So, ladies, give it a go.
But. there's more than TV and chocolate in life... allegedly.
The New Year started with a sort of an offer to work with a new language agency. I still don't know for sure if I'll be working for them for long because they're taking their time to make sure I'm good enough for them and I feel I'll be on probation for a while.
Now I'm teaching around 12 hours a week and from the next week I'm going to more or less double my teaching hours, thus doubling my earnings, which is more than alright.
I've got 6 hours with the bosses and owners of a company that make elevators and who are dead set on expanding and taking over the world. Their English is atrocious, (you know, Tarzan stile at their best), and their very keen to learn, which made my job easier. Money is a great incentive.
This year I decided to get myself some text books for teaching as well as my grammar book that I've been using so far.
I also ordered some books to learn how to teach properly on Amazon because I did learn a bit of it while at college but I can do with some help preparing the lessons and some teaching tips. I'm looking forward to get them. Pity there was nothing like "Teaching English for dummies". I did check.
If you came across any book that's particularly good or relevant, please let me know. I need all the help I can get.
10 January, 2007
Britania rules the waves!
I mean the TV waves. British tv really rules, specially when compared with the local one.
"The husband" found a way to have British TV and he managed to install the satelite dish in our balcony and to have everything working by the time P.'s got back home from school; so "Blue Peter" was actually on tv for him. All for around £100 and we've got all the free channels that ar available back home (meaning Bristol). He's my hero.
Local TV is bad, not worse than everywhere in the wide world, just worse than in the UK where people still have a great BBC and a good channel 4. And they're complaining about the dumbing down of the media? They don't really know how low can it go if left to their own devices.
We hardly watched tv all this months and P. didn't at all. There was one one good sitcom that we were following "Dr. House" and that's from the US and Hugh Laurie, who plays the main character is actually a Brit. There was a local sitcome about a familly living in Madrid during the 70s and that was all. Not even the news were worthy of attention because they have at least 50% of their time to crime and gory stuff.
One of the program with more audience is the spin off of an Argentinean soap opera re-made in Mexico and set in a posh high school with a
llegedly realistic teenage drama, but the actors looks like... well see picture here and judge yourself. Remember Britany Spears' video for the "oops I did it again" song? Well... now imagine a whole school dressed and made up like that and you'll get the visual idea.
The soap was so successful that the actors now have a music band and they're touring in Spain with enourmous success. They've just kicked up their tour in Barcelona and they've filled a huge stadium; the same that Bruce Springsteen filled a few month ago with his show "The Seeger Sesion Band Tour".
This is a sad world, my friend.
Then there's lots of programs dedicated to celebrity gossip, game shows such as the local version of "who wants to be a millionaire" and local versions of UK shows such as "you are what you eat", "super nanny" and so forth.
Boring!!!
So today P was over the moon watching "Blue Peter" earlier today and I have to confess that I'm in a high myself. Even just a few minutes ago I watched "soapstar superstar" and while I couldn't name any of the soaps stars, Zoe Ball never looked more lovely. By the way, is Zoe pregnant or the dress really didn't do her any favour?
All this costed "the husband" around £100 and it's totally worth every penny!! I wonder if it could be consider tax deductible as a work related investment for me, due to the fact that'll keep my English up to date.
"The husband" found a way to have British TV and he managed to install the satelite dish in our balcony and to have everything working by the time P.'s got back home from school; so "Blue Peter" was actually on tv for him. All for around £100 and we've got all the free channels that ar available back home (meaning Bristol). He's my hero.
Local TV is bad, not worse than everywhere in the wide world, just worse than in the UK where people still have a great BBC and a good channel 4. And they're complaining about the dumbing down of the media? They don't really know how low can it go if left to their own devices.
We hardly watched tv all this months and P. didn't at all. There was one one good sitcom that we were following "Dr. House" and that's from the US and Hugh Laurie, who plays the main character is actually a Brit. There was a local sitcome about a familly living in Madrid during the 70s and that was all. Not even the news were worthy of attention because they have at least 50% of their time to crime and gory stuff.
One of the program with more audience is the spin off of an Argentinean soap opera re-made in Mexico and set in a posh high school with a
llegedly realistic teenage drama, but the actors looks like... well see picture here and judge yourself. Remember Britany Spears' video for the "oops I did it again" song? Well... now imagine a whole school dressed and made up like that and you'll get the visual idea.The soap was so successful that the actors now have a music band and they're touring in Spain with enourmous success. They've just kicked up their tour in Barcelona and they've filled a huge stadium; the same that Bruce Springsteen filled a few month ago with his show "The Seeger Sesion Band Tour".
This is a sad world, my friend.
Then there's lots of programs dedicated to celebrity gossip, game shows such as the local version of "who wants to be a millionaire" and local versions of UK shows such as "you are what you eat", "super nanny" and so forth.
Boring!!!
So today P was over the moon watching "Blue Peter" earlier today and I have to confess that I'm in a high myself. Even just a few minutes ago I watched "soapstar superstar" and while I couldn't name any of the soaps stars, Zoe Ball never looked more lovely. By the way, is Zoe pregnant or the dress really didn't do her any favour?
All this costed "the husband" around £100 and it's totally worth every penny!! I wonder if it could be consider tax deductible as a work related investment for me, due to the fact that'll keep my English up to date.
09 January, 2007
Teaching EFL and the fear of not being good enough.
I think that I'm over ambitious sometimes or just a perfectionist because good enough is never good enough for me and I'm forever finding faults in everything I do.
That attitude used to stop me for even trying to achieve things because my standards were so impossibly high that I knew in advance that I couldn't ever reached even the good enough level.
Then I went to England and I founded myself sounding as a half witted alien!
So I had 2 options, 1- be forever quiet until and unless I could sound as clever and assertive as Jeremy Paxman interviewing a politician or 2- hid under the duvet forever. Nobody can do as Paxman does and, anyway, I'm unable to shut up or to hide under the duvet for long. So I worked a lot learning English and in the process I learnt not to take myself so seriously.
I think that the not taking oneself too seriously is part of British culture and thus is ingrain in the language. Language and culture are totally related and dependent. You have to laugh at yourself in English otherwise the language doesn't work. And once you'd learn to laugh at yourself, you're in a safe zone and can start to deal with the deep issues.
I can wax lyrical for pages about the "whys" and the "hows" I'm like that and how I'm better than I was, but the point is that it's a work in progress, were I'm trying to do my best and I'm learning to cut my self some slack.
Yesterday's class went well. I was totally freaking out because Steve was there to supervise me, basically to see if I'm good enough for them. My mouth was absolutely dry and it felt as bad as a test, worse than the interview in fact. So I took my books and introduced myself to the students and started the class. Steve left after what felt as an eternity and then the class got animated and even fun.
I'm going to meet Steve tomorrow for a port-mortem and I hope he'll be happy enough.
Anyway. The old agency just sent me an e-mail telling me that my former students gave me glowing reports and so they're offering me some more teaching hours.
So, I'm finishing this post with a positive note, I'm still employed!
That attitude used to stop me for even trying to achieve things because my standards were so impossibly high that I knew in advance that I couldn't ever reached even the good enough level.
Then I went to England and I founded myself sounding as a half witted alien!
So I had 2 options, 1- be forever quiet until and unless I could sound as clever and assertive as Jeremy Paxman interviewing a politician or 2- hid under the duvet forever. Nobody can do as Paxman does and, anyway, I'm unable to shut up or to hide under the duvet for long. So I worked a lot learning English and in the process I learnt not to take myself so seriously.
I think that the not taking oneself too seriously is part of British culture and thus is ingrain in the language. Language and culture are totally related and dependent. You have to laugh at yourself in English otherwise the language doesn't work. And once you'd learn to laugh at yourself, you're in a safe zone and can start to deal with the deep issues.
I can wax lyrical for pages about the "whys" and the "hows" I'm like that and how I'm better than I was, but the point is that it's a work in progress, were I'm trying to do my best and I'm learning to cut my self some slack.
Yesterday's class went well. I was totally freaking out because Steve was there to supervise me, basically to see if I'm good enough for them. My mouth was absolutely dry and it felt as bad as a test, worse than the interview in fact. So I took my books and introduced myself to the students and started the class. Steve left after what felt as an eternity and then the class got animated and even fun.
I'm going to meet Steve tomorrow for a port-mortem and I hope he'll be happy enough.
Anyway. The old agency just sent me an e-mail telling me that my former students gave me glowing reports and so they're offering me some more teaching hours.
So, I'm finishing this post with a positive note, I'm still employed!
08 January, 2007
New job starting today
Later today I'm going to my first class with the new agency. One of my employers is going to be there with me, first to introduce me to the students and second and most importantly, to assess my teaching.
I'm terrified. I spend some time during the weekend preparing my class, revising the past simple tense and the material that Steve gave me on Friday but I'm scared. I really want to do a good job but maybe I'll be forever feeling inadequate and a bit of a fraud as a teacher. Well... at least I've been teaching for a few months by now.
I'm terrified. I spend some time during the weekend preparing my class, revising the past simple tense and the material that Steve gave me on Friday but I'm scared. I really want to do a good job but maybe I'll be forever feeling inadequate and a bit of a fraud as a teacher. Well... at least I've been teaching for a few months by now.
06 January, 2007
Forgot the library mascots
My son reminded me that I forgot to mention the 2 library mascots that were parading together with the Aladdin look-alike character and helping him to get the kids letters for the kings. This are 2 cuddly characters that are printed in every library ads for children activities, one is like a reddish ragged doll and the other like a big blue Elmo from the Muppet's show.
In this case they are people in costumes like the one I was about to wear (the oversize blue bear costume) for the library, remember?
So, the kings' cabalgade is also an opportunity for the local council to show some of the things they do for the community.
In this case they are people in costumes like the one I was about to wear (the oversize blue bear costume) for the library, remember?
So, the kings' cabalgade is also an opportunity for the local council to show some of the things they do for the community.
05 January, 2007
I've seen the king!!
Not Elvis.
We actually saw the 3 kings. In Britain they're known as the 3 wise men who brought gifts to baby Jesus; here they're called "3 reyes magos" or 3 wizard kings, one from Europe, one from the East and one from Africa. They were supposed to arrived today... at least today is when is celebrated here and, as you may know by now, anything that is worth a fiesta deserves have it done properly.
The tradition is that kids send a letter to the kings telling them that they've been good kids and asking for some presents, long list, then tonight they place their shoes on the balcony or near a window or garden, together with some biscuits for the kings, grass and water for the camels (it was the Middle East, after all) and the next day the food disapears and there's some presents.
When I was young we didn't have Father Christmas but people give each other presents in the name of baby Jesus, it was great but not really magical as the 3 kings days. That was totally awesome.
I keep the tradition for P. while I also incorporated Father Christmas, so for years he's got 2 sets of presents. Although we never did the other part of the tradition, the one that said that bad behaved children get a piece of coal on their shows instead of presents!!
So, as usual, P. wrote his letter last week and we posted in a special golden box at the local post office. That was a change because in Bristol we had to go and post a letter to them in Israel, which probably amused or puzzle some postal workers somewhere.
I forgot all about it and we spend the day screwing and tiding up my books because I need to learn some basic grammar for Monday.
At around 6pm P and I went to the supermarket, which is literally around the corner and found that the street was being closed by the police and there was a bit of a crowd already there all along the street. We though it was weird and started to speculate the reason for it, maybe a parade of some sort? Then I realise that they were far too many kids around and some of them were beyond themselves with excitement, so I said to P. that maybe they were waiting for the kings to arrive.
Well. P. my son, is an sceptic and a self-described non-believer; he told his school priest last year that he didn't want to have first communion because he believes in Darwin. So, he looked at me with a funny face as if I was totally mad, well beyond my normal madness.
We decided to wait there and try to see what was going on. The crowd grew stronger and at more or less half an hour latter a police motorbike brigade appeared with lights on and all as they do when they have bigwigs to take care of. Then a bunch of mysterious looking guys and girls with long robes and their faces covered with dark scarves in the manner of the Bedouins went by giving the children little flags to wave, with the local council logo welcoming the kings to Sabadell.
Even P. was impress.
Then a police car followed by a horse-cart with a guy dressed as a sort of Aladdin from a British pantomime to whom children handed their letters as he went by.
P. then panicked and told me that he's not sure if his letter will find its way to the king as it appeared that you have to give it to their "handler", PR person or whoever this guy was.
After that a motorcycle group in old motorbikes, like the ones from the 60's, mod's style went by, decorated with balloons, also a bunch of very old small cars went by, both were local clubs of bikes and car collectors.
Then, after a pause, as the horse-cart had to go very slowly to allow all the kids to hand in their letters, a carnival exploded. A bunch of lovely girls dressed as in Egyptian fantasy, with huge colourful fans, went dancing, then a truck with a gigantic silver star (like the one that the kings had to follow to find baby Jesus) followed by another truck filled with children dressed as garden gnomes throwing sweets at the delirious children (and some parents) some of whom were well prepared with carrier bags to bring them home. Not handing sweets, mind you, actually trowing them around with such an energy that I feared for my glasses!!! One actually hit me on the head and I swear I saw stars as the cartoons do!!!!
Then, in a huge truck decorated as if the planetary system, it came one of the kings, the one with a white beard. He was great but the best thing by far was the children's f
aces, including my skeptic one, with eyes shining with pure unadulterated magic.
After that there was bunch of musicians dressed as royal astronomers, at least according to P, who also said that they looked a bit like Henry VIII without the gut. So that must have bee the European king. Here you can see a glimpse of him and his... elves? assistants? You can also see some children with bags ready for more sweets.
Then another big truck with children throwing sweets followed by another king. This time all in blue hues and more oriental style, but "oriental" in that panto sense again. Followed by another truck with kids throwing sweets.
Finally, and terribly politically incorrect, a bunch of people with their faces painted black as in those all movies of Al Johnson went dancing with huge banners, preceding the black king, and the children favourite: Baltazar. He was followed by some people all dressed u with lovely red capes and riding beautiful horses. More sweets were thrown.
Then the local firefighters, the ambulance, the forest firefighters and, last but not least, the street cleaners with their carts specially decorated for the occasion closed the parade while cleaning all the confetti and sweet wrappers around.
I think it'll be a good idea to the council to offer some ritalin after the parade (that's the drug giving to ADD's children) because some of the kids were in a totally high trip with all the sugar and excitement. I know I was!!
I've heard that every village in Spain, no matter how small, has their own parade, although the biggest are usually on the bigger cities. In Barcelona the kings actually arrive by ship and the parade starts at the port. We saw on tv the parade in Madrid and it was awesome.
Now, we're back home, P. already left his shoes on the balcony together with some biscuits he baked himself. I bet he's going to wake up at 6am tomorrow morning, that if he manages to sleep at all!
I do miss you, guys, but living here is great fun.
We actually saw the 3 kings. In Britain they're known as the 3 wise men who brought gifts to baby Jesus; here they're called "3 reyes magos" or 3 wizard kings, one from Europe, one from the East and one from Africa. They were supposed to arrived today... at least today is when is celebrated here and, as you may know by now, anything that is worth a fiesta deserves have it done properly.
The tradition is that kids send a letter to the kings telling them that they've been good kids and asking for some presents, long list, then tonight they place their shoes on the balcony or near a window or garden, together with some biscuits for the kings, grass and water for the camels (it was the Middle East, after all) and the next day the food disapears and there's some presents.
When I was young we didn't have Father Christmas but people give each other presents in the name of baby Jesus, it was great but not really magical as the 3 kings days. That was totally awesome.
I keep the tradition for P. while I also incorporated Father Christmas, so for years he's got 2 sets of presents. Although we never did the other part of the tradition, the one that said that bad behaved children get a piece of coal on their shows instead of presents!!
So, as usual, P. wrote his letter last week and we posted in a special golden box at the local post office. That was a change because in Bristol we had to go and post a letter to them in Israel, which probably amused or puzzle some postal workers somewhere.
I forgot all about it and we spend the day screwing and tiding up my books because I need to learn some basic grammar for Monday.
At around 6pm P and I went to the supermarket, which is literally around the corner and found that the street was being closed by the police and there was a bit of a crowd already there all along the street. We though it was weird and started to speculate the reason for it, maybe a parade of some sort? Then I realise that they were far too many kids around and some of them were beyond themselves with excitement, so I said to P. that maybe they were waiting for the kings to arrive.
Well. P. my son, is an sceptic and a self-described non-believer; he told his school priest last year that he didn't want to have first communion because he believes in Darwin. So, he looked at me with a funny face as if I was totally mad, well beyond my normal madness.
We decided to wait there and try to see what was going on. The crowd grew stronger and at more or less half an hour latter a police motorbike brigade appeared with lights on and all as they do when they have bigwigs to take care of. Then a bunch of mysterious looking guys and girls with long robes and their faces covered with dark scarves in the manner of the Bedouins went by giving the children little flags to wave, with the local council logo welcoming the kings to Sabadell.
Even P. was impress.
Then a police car followed by a horse-cart with a guy dressed as a sort of Aladdin from a British pantomime to whom children handed their letters as he went by.
P. then panicked and told me that he's not sure if his letter will find its way to the king as it appeared that you have to give it to their "handler", PR person or whoever this guy was.
After that a motorcycle group in old motorbikes, like the ones from the 60's, mod's style went by, decorated with balloons, also a bunch of very old small cars went by, both were local clubs of bikes and car collectors.
Then, after a pause, as the horse-cart had to go very slowly to allow all the kids to hand in their letters, a carnival exploded. A bunch of lovely girls dressed as in Egyptian fantasy, with huge colourful fans, went dancing, then a truck with a gigantic silver star (like the one that the kings had to follow to find baby Jesus) followed by another truck filled with children dressed as garden gnomes throwing sweets at the delirious children (and some parents) some of whom were well prepared with carrier bags to bring them home. Not handing sweets, mind you, actually trowing them around with such an energy that I feared for my glasses!!! One actually hit me on the head and I swear I saw stars as the cartoons do!!!!
Then, in a huge truck decorated as if the planetary system, it came one of the kings, the one with a white beard. He was great but the best thing by far was the children's f
aces, including my skeptic one, with eyes shining with pure unadulterated magic.After that there was bunch of musicians dressed as royal astronomers, at least according to P, who also said that they looked a bit like Henry VIII without the gut. So that must have bee the European king. Here you can see a glimpse of him and his... elves? assistants? You can also see some children with bags ready for more sweets.
Then another big truck with children throwing sweets followed by another king. This time all in blue hues and more oriental style, but "oriental" in that panto sense again. Followed by another truck with kids throwing sweets.
Finally, and terribly politically incorrect, a bunch of people with their faces painted black as in those all movies of Al Johnson went dancing with huge banners, preceding the black king, and the children favourite: Baltazar. He was followed by some people all dressed u with lovely red capes and riding beautiful horses. More sweets were thrown.
Then the local firefighters, the ambulance, the forest firefighters and, last but not least, the street cleaners with their carts specially decorated for the occasion closed the parade while cleaning all the confetti and sweet wrappers around.
I think it'll be a good idea to the council to offer some ritalin after the parade (that's the drug giving to ADD's children) because some of the kids were in a totally high trip with all the sugar and excitement. I know I was!!
I've heard that every village in Spain, no matter how small, has their own parade, although the biggest are usually on the bigger cities. In Barcelona the kings actually arrive by ship and the parade starts at the port. We saw on tv the parade in Madrid and it was awesome.
Now, we're back home, P. already left his shoes on the balcony together with some biscuits he baked himself. I bet he's going to wake up at 6am tomorrow morning, that if he manages to sleep at all!
I do miss you, guys, but living here is great fun.
Second job
Well. I've got myself some more hours of teaching. Good!
Steve called me yesterday to say that they have some students for me, a beginners' group, starting next Monday. He's going to be with me during the first lesson to assess my teaching methods and to see if I get on fine with the students. He gave a bunch of books, one that the students are going to use, one practice book, a teacher's book, some tapes and a thick and very well thumbed grammar book (not sure if he gave it to me as a hint that I have to study it or if is meant to be used as a guide for homework for my students).
I'll have to prepare a class asap. I'm planing to set aside some time during the weekend to do so.
I'm a bit bewildered with the fact that people are hiring me to actually teach English to somebody. Either my spoken use of the language is better that I think or I'm really good at selling myself! Maybe I should consider finding a career in PR. I wonder what Steve'd think if he had a look at this blog... specially before I run the spellchecker!!!
Steve called me yesterday to say that they have some students for me, a beginners' group, starting next Monday. He's going to be with me during the first lesson to assess my teaching methods and to see if I get on fine with the students. He gave a bunch of books, one that the students are going to use, one practice book, a teacher's book, some tapes and a thick and very well thumbed grammar book (not sure if he gave it to me as a hint that I have to study it or if is meant to be used as a guide for homework for my students).
I'll have to prepare a class asap. I'm planing to set aside some time during the weekend to do so.
I'm a bit bewildered with the fact that people are hiring me to actually teach English to somebody. Either my spoken use of the language is better that I think or I'm really good at selling myself! Maybe I should consider finding a career in PR. I wonder what Steve'd think if he had a look at this blog... specially before I run the spellchecker!!!
04 January, 2007
Screwing again???
And not in the fun sense of the word!
I feel that all of what I've been doing for the past weeks is opening boxes, unpacking flat furniture and endless screwing, I even have a couple of blisters on my fingers to prove it.
But despite everything, one has to marvel at the ingenuity of the designers at Ikea. From the minimalist packages to the pre-drilled holes, the furniture is actually easy to assemble if you follow the all draws no words booklet of instructions. It's amazing what they can do with such inexpensive furniture. And the flat is starting to look good!
It's such a lovely, warm feeling this process of actually making a home... despite the fact that we're totally tired all the time.
Now, let's do a quick re-cap of the days that I was far too busy to be able to write this blog. Sorry.
The day before the last day of the year I had a job interview.
This a bit of networking on "the husband"'s part, he told everybody that I'm looking for a job and some coach at P's rugby club mentioned that another coach (British) has a business teaching English as a Foreign Language in one of the major local banks and that he'd have a word with him.
I didn't think much about it until I've got a call asking for "P's mum" (I love it when people call me that!). His name is Steve and in a very posh voice asked me if I was still looking for a job to go and meet him and his (business) partner. He lives just a block away from us and he usually gives P a lift to the rugby club on Saturdays.
So, I went and meet the two guys (the other one, whose name I cannot recall has the strongest Mancunian accent that I've ever heard) and they grilled me. Truly grilled me. One the toughest interviews ever. They asked me about my nationality, background, my education, job experience and so forth and so on, all in English of course.
All went well until the partner told me that it was ok but that I didn't have a "proper certificate". That surprised me and I said "but... I have a BA, in a British university". He, totally patronising, told me that was ok but that he meant a certificate in EFL. I then had to explain that my degree was precisely EFL and Spanish and that a certificate usually takes, how long? 6 months? And that I studied for 3 whole years to get it. And that I've got a 2:1 and a the prize for the best essay of my year.
I had no modesty whatever, but in my mind I was thinking:
yeah...with THIS English...???
you must be joking!!!
Anyway, I may speak (and write) funny, but at the end of the day I do have the proper qualifications.
I feel that all of what I've been doing for the past weeks is opening boxes, unpacking flat furniture and endless screwing, I even have a couple of blisters on my fingers to prove it.
But despite everything, one has to marvel at the ingenuity of the designers at Ikea. From the minimalist packages to the pre-drilled holes, the furniture is actually easy to assemble if you follow the all draws no words booklet of instructions. It's amazing what they can do with such inexpensive furniture. And the flat is starting to look good!
It's such a lovely, warm feeling this process of actually making a home... despite the fact that we're totally tired all the time.
Now, let's do a quick re-cap of the days that I was far too busy to be able to write this blog. Sorry.
The day before the last day of the year I had a job interview.
This a bit of networking on "the husband"'s part, he told everybody that I'm looking for a job and some coach at P's rugby club mentioned that another coach (British) has a business teaching English as a Foreign Language in one of the major local banks and that he'd have a word with him.
I didn't think much about it until I've got a call asking for "P's mum" (I love it when people call me that!). His name is Steve and in a very posh voice asked me if I was still looking for a job to go and meet him and his (business) partner. He lives just a block away from us and he usually gives P a lift to the rugby club on Saturdays.
So, I went and meet the two guys (the other one, whose name I cannot recall has the strongest Mancunian accent that I've ever heard) and they grilled me. Truly grilled me. One the toughest interviews ever. They asked me about my nationality, background, my education, job experience and so forth and so on, all in English of course.
All went well until the partner told me that it was ok but that I didn't have a "proper certificate". That surprised me and I said "but... I have a BA, in a British university". He, totally patronising, told me that was ok but that he meant a certificate in EFL. I then had to explain that my degree was precisely EFL and Spanish and that a certificate usually takes, how long? 6 months? And that I studied for 3 whole years to get it. And that I've got a 2:1 and a the prize for the best essay of my year.
I had no modesty whatever, but in my mind I was thinking:
yeah...with THIS English...???
you must be joking!!!
Anyway, I may speak (and write) funny, but at the end of the day I do have the proper qualifications.
Finally they asked my why did I want to work with them, to which I, boldly replayed (yes, I did split the infinitive, another rules go to waste with me) that I didn't know them yet, that I was just looking for a job and that the real question was why should they hire me. Yes, I really said that!!! And then went on and explained that I'm the ideal teacher of English for beginners because they need to learn the foreign language through their own language and my Spanish (at least) is flawless (not true either here) and that I've been there, done that and got the t-shirt and I know exactly where the problems will be and how to address them.
Well... with that pitch I really got their attention. Now let's hope that they do have loads of students who are really beginners and that they liked me enough to hire this lady with a funny, although very idiomatic and colourful, English. AND, I didn't even mentioned that I'm dislexic!!!
New Year's Eve.
We spend the whole day trying to empty the rented flat so we could start the year by sleeping on our own beds. Hard work.
Plus I had to put together some side dishes for dinner at a friend's flat. So, when it was time to go, around 8pm (they live by the sea, an hour drive away), I was already knackered and the ready made beds were soooo inviting... But we're not the sort of people who
'd turn down a party so, off we went.Dinner was really nice and we've got to meet some new people as well, which I always appreciate. (they have a corner shop in which they sell all sort of Argentinean goodies,, good to know).
We're wearing the same clothes than in the Christmas' eve party because that's all we got out of the boxes.
Here New Year's Eve is called "nochevieja", the old nigh, and at the stroke of midnight and the dawn of the new year, everyone has to eat 12 grapes, one for each chime, for good luck for each of the incoming 12 months.
It's been said that the ER people hates the tradition because every year they have loads of people who chockes badly. This is akin as people getting burn on the UK with Guy Faulks' bonfire. There's some recommended techniques about how to eat the grapes, my favourite was to store them all in your mouth and they eat them all together, not an easy task; "the husband" said that that was like cheating and he managed to eat them all one by one. We'll see who's the luckiest this year.
I drove home after the party and the motorway was pretty empty. The police, however, stoped us once with breathalysers at the ready; (the practice of taking points off your driving license has been implemented just a few months ago). I was very exited to had a go to the breathalyser, never done it before, but they just saw me all smiling, "the husband" looking tipsy but not driving, and P's asleep on the back seat and they just waved me away.
I think that in the same spirit of the points taken if you commit a fault, they should give extra points to us who are goody two-shoes, at least a t-shirt "I don't drink and drive", that'd be nice.
Now I'm off to sleep. good nigh and good luck.
(yes, I love George Clooney and the movie was great)
It's been said that the ER people hates the tradition because every year they have loads of people who chockes badly. This is akin as people getting burn on the UK with Guy Faulks' bonfire. There's some recommended techniques about how to eat the grapes, my favourite was to store them all in your mouth and they eat them all together, not an easy task; "the husband" said that that was like cheating and he managed to eat them all one by one. We'll see who's the luckiest this year.
I drove home after the party and the motorway was pretty empty. The police, however, stoped us once with breathalysers at the ready; (the practice of taking points off your driving license has been implemented just a few months ago). I was very exited to had a go to the breathalyser, never done it before, but they just saw me all smiling, "the husband" looking tipsy but not driving, and P's asleep on the back seat and they just waved me away.
I think that in the same spirit of the points taken if you commit a fault, they should give extra points to us who are goody two-shoes, at least a t-shirt "I don't drink and drive", that'd be nice.
Now I'm off to sleep. good nigh and good luck.
(yes, I love George Clooney and the movie was great)
27 December, 2006
Ikea rules the world.
Long live Ikea.
We've been unpacking and re-building all our Ikea's pieces of furniture, a couple of beds, 2 bookshelves and a chest of drawers. Without instructions it was like doing a gigantic three dimensional puzzle. Great fun but tiresome. It took us 3 days to have all the stuff almost done, we're still missing a bunch of "thingies" (small screws and such stuff) and the backing of one of the bookshelves did a mysteriously disappearance act between Bristol and the new flat.
Nothing is broke, which is amazing considering all the troubles and travels this things had been through.
Of course we still need some furniture and off we went to the local Ikea to get what we needed plus the missing "thingies". They gave us a whole bag of "thingies" for free. Mind you, we bought loads of stuff. A coffee table, 3 lamps, a low table for the TV, video, etc, a small table for P's PlayStation, a bookshelf for the music things, another bookshelf and assorted nick nacks. We had to have them deliver some because there was no way to fix it all in our smallish car.
All this shopping took us at least 3 visit to the store, of at least 4 hours each. We even had lunch there, and tea. I started to like Swedish food by now. Of course we went there on a working day, as it's awful to visit the shop during weekends. Even then, the queues were as long as you can expect, the ussual.
The ladies at Filton library, very wisely, gave me an Ikea voucher as a farewell present and with it I bough a very comfy chair for the computer desk. I'm seating right here now and it's great. I'll try to post a picture of my blogging happily in my new chair. Thank you, guys!!
I adore Ikea, all you may need for your home in a single, huge, store. The only problem is the ubiquitous crowd. I think that some people go to Ikea just to stroll along, because it cannot be that many people buying furniture all the time.
According to the BBC, 1 in 10 Europeans had been conceived in Ikea beds. Check this BBC site for all sort of trivial info like that by clicking here.
"The husband" is telling me off for writing this while there's so many things to do right now. So... by for now, back to work.
We've been unpacking and re-building all our Ikea's pieces of furniture, a couple of beds, 2 bookshelves and a chest of drawers. Without instructions it was like doing a gigantic three dimensional puzzle. Great fun but tiresome. It took us 3 days to have all the stuff almost done, we're still missing a bunch of "thingies" (small screws and such stuff) and the backing of one of the bookshelves did a mysteriously disappearance act between Bristol and the new flat.
Nothing is broke, which is amazing considering all the troubles and travels this things had been through.
Of course we still need some furniture and off we went to the local Ikea to get what we needed plus the missing "thingies". They gave us a whole bag of "thingies" for free. Mind you, we bought loads of stuff. A coffee table, 3 lamps, a low table for the TV, video, etc, a small table for P's PlayStation, a bookshelf for the music things, another bookshelf and assorted nick nacks. We had to have them deliver some because there was no way to fix it all in our smallish car.
All this shopping took us at least 3 visit to the store, of at least 4 hours each. We even had lunch there, and tea. I started to like Swedish food by now. Of course we went there on a working day, as it's awful to visit the shop during weekends. Even then, the queues were as long as you can expect, the ussual.
The ladies at Filton library, very wisely, gave me an Ikea voucher as a farewell present and with it I bough a very comfy chair for the computer desk. I'm seating right here now and it's great. I'll try to post a picture of my blogging happily in my new chair. Thank you, guys!!
I adore Ikea, all you may need for your home in a single, huge, store. The only problem is the ubiquitous crowd. I think that some people go to Ikea just to stroll along, because it cannot be that many people buying furniture all the time.
According to the BBC, 1 in 10 Europeans had been conceived in Ikea beds. Check this BBC site for all sort of trivial info like that by clicking here.
"The husband" is telling me off for writing this while there's so many things to do right now. So... by for now, back to work.
26 December, 2006
Merry Christmas!
I was so busy the days before Christmas that I forgot to buy the presents!!
Well... I knew that I had to buy something but I just couldn't think of anything for the guys nor find the time to do it. Luckily, "the husband" is a total dear and he bought a present for us. For P. he bought a Viking ship so he can make it himself, a total hit; for me he order and bought a wooden, hand made, double barrelled, absolutely gorgeous tatting shuttle that arrived from Scotland sometime ago.
All those month on his own really made his heart grew fonder!
I was busy mainly with work as I was finishing my classes for the year, preparing my student's assessment and, of course, trying to get something done in the new flat.
Ages ago I befriended (by e-mail) a family from my home town (Tucuman) in Argentina and they invited us to spend Christmas' eve with them and a bunch of their friends (mostly expats from Argentina). They hired a local community hall and everybody bought something to eat and drinks. It was very much the sort of things that we do in Argentina for Christmas, we celebrate it by having dinner with family and friends, so we felt right at home then and there.
They were really kind and friendly and we met a lovely group of people. Of course, there was music and we danced and had a brilliant time until 3am. "The husband" was very pleased that I have my driving licence so he was able to drink without worrying about going back home.
I was doing that sort of things in Bristol, I was forever organizing things to allow people that were new in town to get to know others and have a good time in a new city or even a new country.
So this party felt just as good karma. All that one do upon others will came back in this life and it was a bit of pay-off time for me and just on time. I didn't realize how deep how badly I was missing all my friends in Bristol until I got a deep sight of relief when I met people that I could be friends with in no time.
The next day we all met again to eat the leftovers from the night before plus a great barbecue with Argentinean meat.
Brilliant!
Merry Christmas to you all.
Well... I knew that I had to buy something but I just couldn't think of anything for the guys nor find the time to do it. Luckily, "the husband" is a total dear and he bought a present for us. For P. he bought a Viking ship so he can make it himself, a total hit; for me he order and bought a wooden, hand made, double barrelled, absolutely gorgeous tatting shuttle that arrived from Scotland sometime ago.
All those month on his own really made his heart grew fonder!
I was busy mainly with work as I was finishing my classes for the year, preparing my student's assessment and, of course, trying to get something done in the new flat.
Ages ago I befriended (by e-mail) a family from my home town (Tucuman) in Argentina and they invited us to spend Christmas' eve with them and a bunch of their friends (mostly expats from Argentina). They hired a local community hall and everybody bought something to eat and drinks. It was very much the sort of things that we do in Argentina for Christmas, we celebrate it by having dinner with family and friends, so we felt right at home then and there.
They were really kind and friendly and we met a lovely group of people. Of course, there was music and we danced and had a brilliant time until 3am. "The husband" was very pleased that I have my driving licence so he was able to drink without worrying about going back home.
I was doing that sort of things in Bristol, I was forever organizing things to allow people that were new in town to get to know others and have a good time in a new city or even a new country.
So this party felt just as good karma. All that one do upon others will came back in this life and it was a bit of pay-off time for me and just on time. I didn't realize how deep how badly I was missing all my friends in Bristol until I got a deep sight of relief when I met people that I could be friends with in no time.
The next day we all met again to eat the leftovers from the night before plus a great barbecue with Argentinean meat.
Brilliant!
Merry Christmas to you all.
19 December, 2006
Conected again!!
A few days without Internet connexion feels weird. And lonely. I think I'm addicted somehow.
Anyway... I'm back!!
Let's see. The past few days were pretty hectic, the usual stuff when moving. I've been decorating, nothing wild, just plain white walls. It seemed a good idea at the time but now I'm not that sure. I haven't realised that white is actually a very dirty colour, every speck of dirt, whatever colour, just jumps at you. Not good when you have a dirty 10 year-old-rugbier at home.
Whatever!
I've done the living-room and I'm about to finish my room and I'm most definitely not painting again. I think I'll cover the walls with bookshelves and art.
Sounds pretty good, but actually, books in English are hard to come by and, while there is plenty of original artwork in Barcelona, mind you, it doesn't come cheap. Anyway, we've seen some beautiful original paints and it seems worthy to save and buy a couple in years to come. After all, we don't have that many wall to cover with art in the first place.
We're still sleeping at the rented flat, and it's a mix blessing because in the new one there's so much to unpack, so many things to do that it's just overwhelming. On the bad side, I have 2 flats to keep tidy.
So far we managed to unpack and fix the desk and we have an old laptop installed so I can check my e-mail and keep my blog sort of up to date. You know, the essential first.
"The husband" is very busy re-doing the electrical system again because he swears it was not up to scratch (to his very high standards) and that it was actually dangerous. There was people living here so, I'm not sure about the dangerous bit, but I'm thankful and appreciate a lot the meticulous and careful way he has with electric stuff. it may take weeks, but when he's done, it'll be just perfect.
We bough some paint during the weekend and at one point "the husband"'s debit card was rejected. It happened twice and then it happened with my card as well. It's quite mortifying and we got the look, you know, from cashiers. We're pretty sure there's money on the account, we double checked, so I went yesterday to the local branch to ask was wrong and to fix the problem.
It turned out that here in Spain you have a limited weekly amount that you can spend with your debit card and that the limit is pretty low (just 300 euros, around £200). Of course, nobody told us that and it seems to be one of the things that everybody already know. Except foreigners of course and maybe because we speek the language and don't look any diferent, people just asume that we're in the know of things. We're so not!
Luckily it was just a simple thing to change the amount we're actually allowed to spend.
Another thing is that I went to pay the phone bill and the cashier looked at me as if I was somehow confused and told me that, of course, that particular bill is only payable on Wednesdays and Thursdays. I askeed why and she just shruged and told me that this was always done like so it must be the best way.
Can you thing of a single logical or practical reason? I can't.
I do miss the logical and practical customer services and rules of banking in England.
Anyway... I'm back!!
Let's see. The past few days were pretty hectic, the usual stuff when moving. I've been decorating, nothing wild, just plain white walls. It seemed a good idea at the time but now I'm not that sure. I haven't realised that white is actually a very dirty colour, every speck of dirt, whatever colour, just jumps at you. Not good when you have a dirty 10 year-old-rugbier at home.
Whatever!
I've done the living-room and I'm about to finish my room and I'm most definitely not painting again. I think I'll cover the walls with bookshelves and art.
Sounds pretty good, but actually, books in English are hard to come by and, while there is plenty of original artwork in Barcelona, mind you, it doesn't come cheap. Anyway, we've seen some beautiful original paints and it seems worthy to save and buy a couple in years to come. After all, we don't have that many wall to cover with art in the first place.
We're still sleeping at the rented flat, and it's a mix blessing because in the new one there's so much to unpack, so many things to do that it's just overwhelming. On the bad side, I have 2 flats to keep tidy.
So far we managed to unpack and fix the desk and we have an old laptop installed so I can check my e-mail and keep my blog sort of up to date. You know, the essential first.
"The husband" is very busy re-doing the electrical system again because he swears it was not up to scratch (to his very high standards) and that it was actually dangerous. There was people living here so, I'm not sure about the dangerous bit, but I'm thankful and appreciate a lot the meticulous and careful way he has with electric stuff. it may take weeks, but when he's done, it'll be just perfect.
We bough some paint during the weekend and at one point "the husband"'s debit card was rejected. It happened twice and then it happened with my card as well. It's quite mortifying and we got the look, you know, from cashiers. We're pretty sure there's money on the account, we double checked, so I went yesterday to the local branch to ask was wrong and to fix the problem.
It turned out that here in Spain you have a limited weekly amount that you can spend with your debit card and that the limit is pretty low (just 300 euros, around £200). Of course, nobody told us that and it seems to be one of the things that everybody already know. Except foreigners of course and maybe because we speek the language and don't look any diferent, people just asume that we're in the know of things. We're so not!
Luckily it was just a simple thing to change the amount we're actually allowed to spend.
Another thing is that I went to pay the phone bill and the cashier looked at me as if I was somehow confused and told me that, of course, that particular bill is only payable on Wednesdays and Thursdays. I askeed why and she just shruged and told me that this was always done like so it must be the best way.
Can you thing of a single logical or practical reason? I can't.
I do miss the logical and practical customer services and rules of banking in England.
13 December, 2006
Final class
Today it was the last class for my groups of 12 absolute beginners EFL (English as a foreign language) students. And as as a farewell gift they gave a big poinsettia plant in a pot (pictured here). Here in Barcelona, Poinsettias are a big part of the traditions for Christmas and it was lovely of them to give me one as a gift.Even though is a transport company and this is the more busy time of their working year and they were truly busy, they all managed to attend the final class.
They told me that the plant was a token of their appreciation for the classes and that they enjoyed them, had fun, and more importantly, they felt as they learned a lot (poor innocent souls).
I didn't expect a farewell present at all and it was a lovely surprise to know that they appreciate the classes and all. It was very sweet of them.
They gave me the flowers and then I had to kiss all 12 of them in the manner used here, with 4 kisses.
I prepared the final class very carefully so we reviewed all what they learnt in the past few months. It was a intensive course and the company paying for it has very high expectations. The plan of the course was to pack up a whole normal year of tuition in 3 months and that's a lot to learn (and a lot to teach). After the final class they went and had a test and they were expected to achieve an intermediate level, at least in spoken English.
Is not an exaggeration to say that I was more nervous about the test that they were, after all I felt as it was my skills as a teacher what was being tested.
And they all (but one) passed!! I'm so proud of them. And I'm so proud of myself!!! (if i can write that at all!). This was my very first experience teaching EFL and it worked as a charm.
I might be considering this as a career.
12 December, 2006
Cleaning
The previous owner of the house were a youngish working couple with a toddler daughter and they had to move in a hurry to their new house so I totally understand that they didn't have much time for cleaning the flat but... seriously!... the place was in urgent need of the "how clean is your house" team. Kim and Aggie would have a field day if they could have seen the kitchen and the small toilet. They're seriously filthy.
(for my non-UK friends, click on the link in pink to see more about the TV show)
Today is my free day, free as in no paid work so, of course I worked a lot.
I spend the whole day today cleaning just the cupboards in the kitchen. They looked as if they've never been cleaned before, with all sort of yucky dried stuff and grime. Thank Goddess it wasn't smelly. Just plain dried grime and assorted rubbish bits, plenty of it to keep me busy for hours. Pity I didn't have fancy rubber gloves as Kim does. I didn't even have normal rubber gloves and I'm still trying to take all the grime out of my fingernails.
I spent a whole bottle of multi-purpose cleaning liquid, 1 roll of kitchen paper, 1 sponge and half a bottle of vinegar (I'm trying to be eco-friendly) and I ended up totally knackered, with back pain and arms pain too but the kitchen is now sparklingly clean.
I should have videotape the whole thing, or at least taking pictures of before and after but I didn't. Too busy to even think about it.
The good think is that at the end of the day I could go home and have a nice bath and cook a meal in a normal kitchen without ruining my day-work. It's really great to have two houses while moving. We didn't plan it that way but we should have.
(for my non-UK friends, click on the link in pink to see more about the TV show)
Today is my free day, free as in no paid work so, of course I worked a lot.
I spend the whole day today cleaning just the cupboards in the kitchen. They looked as if they've never been cleaned before, with all sort of yucky dried stuff and grime. Thank Goddess it wasn't smelly. Just plain dried grime and assorted rubbish bits, plenty of it to keep me busy for hours. Pity I didn't have fancy rubber gloves as Kim does. I didn't even have normal rubber gloves and I'm still trying to take all the grime out of my fingernails.
I spent a whole bottle of multi-purpose cleaning liquid, 1 roll of kitchen paper, 1 sponge and half a bottle of vinegar (I'm trying to be eco-friendly) and I ended up totally knackered, with back pain and arms pain too but the kitchen is now sparklingly clean.
I should have videotape the whole thing, or at least taking pictures of before and after but I didn't. Too busy to even think about it.
The good think is that at the end of the day I could go home and have a nice bath and cook a meal in a normal kitchen without ruining my day-work. It's really great to have two houses while moving. We didn't plan it that way but we should have.
11 December, 2006
Phone and Net
In record time, Telefonica called very early today to see if it was possible to connect the phone in the new flat. Of course I jumped out of bed to go to the flat to be there when they arrived. And everything went smoothly this time and they connect the new phone.
However, this being Telefonica, the company with the worst costumer service ever, we couldn't keep the number even when we're moving just a few blocks south in the same town. The person who connected the phone told me that they only do that with "important clients" meaning big business, and only after they pay a lot of money for the privilege. Obviously, normal households are not important for Telefonica, and it shows.
The good news, then, is that we're having a phone line in the new flat. The bad news is that we're not going to have a line for much longer in the rented flat, meaning: no Internet access.
So, we need to move in a hurry as I cannot be living without Internet access any longer. I've got withdrawal symtoms last time and went totally cold turkey without access to the net. I'm a confess addict to Internet and Coca-Cola (I even have a emergency can of the stuff hidden in my fridge, just in case -God forbid- we run out of it).
Hopefully, we'll move smoothly and there will be no time without connexion and no interruption of this blog and e-mails, but we never know here. So, if I don't post for a few days... bear it with me, I'll be suffering more than you'd do!
However, this being Telefonica, the company with the worst costumer service ever, we couldn't keep the number even when we're moving just a few blocks south in the same town. The person who connected the phone told me that they only do that with "important clients" meaning big business, and only after they pay a lot of money for the privilege. Obviously, normal households are not important for Telefonica, and it shows.
The good news, then, is that we're having a phone line in the new flat. The bad news is that we're not going to have a line for much longer in the rented flat, meaning: no Internet access.
So, we need to move in a hurry as I cannot be living without Internet access any longer. I've got withdrawal symtoms last time and went totally cold turkey without access to the net. I'm a confess addict to Internet and Coca-Cola (I even have a emergency can of the stuff hidden in my fridge, just in case -God forbid- we run out of it).
Hopefully, we'll move smoothly and there will be no time without connexion and no interruption of this blog and e-mails, but we never know here. So, if I don't post for a few days... bear it with me, I'll be suffering more than you'd do!
10 December, 2006
Christmas' log
In the Christmas' fair there's many cute logs with a smily face, big, small, even tidy ones. Another thing that I've never seen before.
I asked and is another local tradition.
This is what Wikipedia say about it.
The Tió de Nadal (roughly "Christmas log"), also known as "Tió" or "Tronca" ("log"), is a mythological character in relating to a Christmas tradition widespread in Catalonia.
The form of the tió de Nadal found in many Catalan homes during the holiday season is a hollow log of about 0.3m length, typically standing up on two or four little stick legs with a broad smiling face painted on the higher of the two ends and often a three-dimensional nose.
On the eight of December one gives the tió a little bit to "eat" every night and usually covers him with a little blanket so that he will not be cold at night.
On Christmas day or, depending on the particular household, on Christmas eve, one puts the tió partly into the fireplace and orders it to "shit" (the fire part of this tradition is no longer as widespread as it once was, since many modern homes do not have a fireplace). To make him "shit", one beats him with sticks, while singing various songs.
The tió does not drop larger objects, as those are brought by the three wise men. It does leave candies, nuts and turrons. Depending on the part of Catalonia, it may also give out dried figs. What comes out of the tió is a communal rather than individual gift, shared by everyone present.
What's with this people and poo??
09 December, 2006
Moving rage
The move was today and I almost punched my neighbour! Literally.
He wanted to park his car in the garage and couldn't wait 10 minutes while we finished taking all our stuff into the van. That's all it was but I totally lost it.
Spanish people normally behave in a way that'd be consider extremely rude either in Argentina or (even worst) in the UK. I was under pressure and he went a step too far in my scale and I did throw a punch at him but managed to stop it at the last second.
He was shocked. I was even more shockeder, I know I'm mad, I just didn't know I'm that mad.
Of course, I apologised immediately and he saw that I was shaking as the proverbial leaf and way out of any normal behaviour in any culture and graciously accepted my apologies.
So I went upstairs, have a good cry and listened to my relaxation tape on the MP3 player. I had to listen two of them until I was fit to go and help the guys unload the van at the new flat. (God bless Paul Mckenna, his hypnotic relaxation tape really works although, thinking about it, I should have listened to it before the move).
Apart from that, the move went really smoothly.
The guy-with-a-van and his helper were really nice, quick and careful, although I don't rule out the possibility that they were truly terrified of me and didn't want to risk upsetting me after they saw me "in action".
Almost all we have is there in the flat and now we have some weeks to fix the flat and unpack. There's loads to do but at least tonight we're sleeping comfortably in our beds and have a full kitchen and stuff. I planned to start working tomorrow morning, but I think it's all the wiser to take it easy and sleep until late.
Good nigh then. I just want to leave this day (from now on known as "my dark violent past") behind me as soon as possible. Whoever say that moving houses is up there, second only to bereavement in the stress scale, is totally right.
He wanted to park his car in the garage and couldn't wait 10 minutes while we finished taking all our stuff into the van. That's all it was but I totally lost it.
Spanish people normally behave in a way that'd be consider extremely rude either in Argentina or (even worst) in the UK. I was under pressure and he went a step too far in my scale and I did throw a punch at him but managed to stop it at the last second.
He was shocked. I was even more shockeder, I know I'm mad, I just didn't know I'm that mad.
Of course, I apologised immediately and he saw that I was shaking as the proverbial leaf and way out of any normal behaviour in any culture and graciously accepted my apologies.
So I went upstairs, have a good cry and listened to my relaxation tape on the MP3 player. I had to listen two of them until I was fit to go and help the guys unload the van at the new flat. (God bless Paul Mckenna, his hypnotic relaxation tape really works although, thinking about it, I should have listened to it before the move).
Apart from that, the move went really smoothly.
The guy-with-a-van and his helper were really nice, quick and careful, although I don't rule out the possibility that they were truly terrified of me and didn't want to risk upsetting me after they saw me "in action".
Almost all we have is there in the flat and now we have some weeks to fix the flat and unpack. There's loads to do but at least tonight we're sleeping comfortably in our beds and have a full kitchen and stuff. I planned to start working tomorrow morning, but I think it's all the wiser to take it easy and sleep until late.
Good nigh then. I just want to leave this day (from now on known as "my dark violent past") behind me as soon as possible. Whoever say that moving houses is up there, second only to bereavement in the stress scale, is totally right.
08 December, 2006
Got the keys
Finally, we've got the keys today.
So we went for the first time to a totally empty flat and the emptiness of the place somehow distort the memories we had and nothing looks like before; rooms looks now bigger or smaller, brighter or darker than we remember. And we silently wander why we bought this flat on first place.
It was raining very lightly when we arrived to the flat and when suddenly the sun came into the living room everything lit up and it looked much better.
So, we started to take stock of everything, looking for details that need fixing and taking notes room by room. Not bad. Our room needs a lick of paint as well as the living room.
P. wants to decorate his room in "the colours of an incoming storm", his words not mine, meaning a colour called "smoke blue" with yellow fluorescent paint for the lightening. "The husband" and I then went into a discussion of how much leverage a 10 years-old boy should have related to the decoration of his own room. We both agree in that the idea and the colours are ludicrous but I think that the kid should be allowed to have it and live with it, after all learning to choose has to imply getting it all wrong from time to time, while "the husband" say that we don't have the money to finance such an obvious wrong choice. At the time of this writing we still don't agree on what to do.
Tomorrow at midday we'll be taking most of the boxes that are now here to the new flat. All the furniture we have, mattresses, and all the boxes. We hired a guy with a van and a helper and depending the size of the van we'll be doing one or two trips.
After that we'd still be living here in the rented flat and we'll be working everyday in the new flat where there's load to do.
Right now I should be packing and getting ready for tomorrow but I think I'm developing a serious phobia to packing. No surprise there.
I'll keep you posted.
So we went for the first time to a totally empty flat and the emptiness of the place somehow distort the memories we had and nothing looks like before; rooms looks now bigger or smaller, brighter or darker than we remember. And we silently wander why we bought this flat on first place.
It was raining very lightly when we arrived to the flat and when suddenly the sun came into the living room everything lit up and it looked much better.
So, we started to take stock of everything, looking for details that need fixing and taking notes room by room. Not bad. Our room needs a lick of paint as well as the living room.
P. wants to decorate his room in "the colours of an incoming storm", his words not mine, meaning a colour called "smoke blue" with yellow fluorescent paint for the lightening. "The husband" and I then went into a discussion of how much leverage a 10 years-old boy should have related to the decoration of his own room. We both agree in that the idea and the colours are ludicrous but I think that the kid should be allowed to have it and live with it, after all learning to choose has to imply getting it all wrong from time to time, while "the husband" say that we don't have the money to finance such an obvious wrong choice. At the time of this writing we still don't agree on what to do.
Tomorrow at midday we'll be taking most of the boxes that are now here to the new flat. All the furniture we have, mattresses, and all the boxes. We hired a guy with a van and a helper and depending the size of the van we'll be doing one or two trips.
After that we'd still be living here in the rented flat and we'll be working everyday in the new flat where there's load to do.
Right now I should be packing and getting ready for tomorrow but I think I'm developing a serious phobia to packing. No surprise there.
I'll keep you posted.
06 December, 2006
The Christmas crapper!
Yesterday we went for a stroll in town at around 7:30 when "the husband" came home from work. All the shops are open until at least 8pm everyday (except weekends) and the centre looks really lovely with all the Christmas' lights on.
There also a Christmas market in the Rambla, the mail local street, where they sell everything, from trees to wraping paper.
One of the tradition for Christmas in Spain as well as in the Latin American countries is to have a "Belén" or Nativity set build at home. Everybody has one and their style, cost and size can vary greatly. Of course, in the market there's loads of stands selling the traditional figures in all sort of materials, from clay to plastic, hand made or mass produced in China, traditional figures, modernist or naive, you can find whatever takes you fancy for this year Nativity set. Plus all sort of background material, such as moss for the pretend grass, plants, animals, even running water fountains, amazing stuff.
In the market, one figure in particular cought my eye because I've never seen it before. It's called the "caganet" o "caganer" (the link will take you to the definition in English and pictures in Wikipedia) a word that can be translated from the Catalan as the Christmas crapper because that's exactly what's he's doing. Look at the pictures!
I've been told that the caganet is placed in a corner of the Nativity and, no surprise there, it's a favourite of all children who take great pleasure to find it. Usually the caganet is an anonymous peasant dressed in traditional clothes, but it's also can be a famous people such as member of the royal house, politicians and eve
n the Pope.
Here I found a picture of one that looks like president Bush.
I've even found one that you can print and then cut and make yourself to add to your own Nativity. I can send it to you by e-mail so you can make one for yourself if you're so inclined. Just let me know.
I'm experiencing some technical problems posting pictures today, so I'm going to keep on trying to post them until I can add a couple of them. It's definitely a sight to see.
There also a Christmas market in the Rambla, the mail local street, where they sell everything, from trees to wraping paper.
One of the tradition for Christmas in Spain as well as in the Latin American countries is to have a "Belén" or Nativity set build at home. Everybody has one and their style, cost and size can vary greatly. Of course, in the market there's loads of stands selling the traditional figures in all sort of materials, from clay to plastic, hand made or mass produced in China, traditional figures, modernist or naive, you can find whatever takes you fancy for this year Nativity set. Plus all sort of background material, such as moss for the pretend grass, plants, animals, even running water fountains, amazing stuff.
In the market, one figure in particular cought my eye because I've never seen it before. It's called the "caganet" o "caganer" (the link will take you to the definition in English and pictures in Wikipedia) a word that can be translated from the Catalan as the Christmas crapper because that's exactly what's he's doing. Look at the pictures!
I've been told that the caganet is placed in a corner of the Nativity and, no surprise there, it's a favourite of all children who take great pleasure to find it. Usually the caganet is an anonymous peasant dressed in traditional clothes, but it's also can be a famous people such as member of the royal house, politicians and eve
n the Pope.Here I found a picture of one that looks like president Bush.
I've even found one that you can print and then cut and make yourself to add to your own Nativity. I can send it to you by e-mail so you can make one for yourself if you're so inclined. Just let me know.
I'm experiencing some technical problems posting pictures today, so I'm going to keep on trying to post them until I can add a couple of them. It's definitely a sight to see.
05 December, 2006
Fiesta
This is going to be a very short week work wise, as it has just 2 work days and the rest are holidays until next Monday. Saint something or other.
My son's delighted of course, but as I'm getting payed by the hour, if I don't work, no money and Goddess knows that money'll be very welcome right now as we need to buy all sort of things for the flat.
We're getting the flat's keys on Wednesday's eve or Thursday at the latest, so I'm planning to buy some paint and decorate the living room, which is in need of a lick of paint. Is best to do this and a thorough cleaning before taking all the boxes in. So, with any luck we'd be able to move the boxes during the weekend.
We're planing to stay right where we are now while we organise things n the new flat. There's loads of things to unpack, flat-packed furniture to make and so on and it's great to have a tidier place to go and sleep.
Plus the telephone company cannot just cancel the phone here and conect us with the same number there. They need 2 weeks to disconect the service here and up to a month to giva us a new number in the new flat. More or less the same is true for the Internet provider. So it may be that I'll be out of reach for a while.
I do miss the quality and eficiency of customer services in England. People do complain there thought... forgive them God as they don't know what they're talking about!!
My son's delighted of course, but as I'm getting payed by the hour, if I don't work, no money and Goddess knows that money'll be very welcome right now as we need to buy all sort of things for the flat.
We're getting the flat's keys on Wednesday's eve or Thursday at the latest, so I'm planning to buy some paint and decorate the living room, which is in need of a lick of paint. Is best to do this and a thorough cleaning before taking all the boxes in. So, with any luck we'd be able to move the boxes during the weekend.
We're planing to stay right where we are now while we organise things n the new flat. There's loads of things to unpack, flat-packed furniture to make and so on and it's great to have a tidier place to go and sleep.
Plus the telephone company cannot just cancel the phone here and conect us with the same number there. They need 2 weeks to disconect the service here and up to a month to giva us a new number in the new flat. More or less the same is true for the Internet provider. So it may be that I'll be out of reach for a while.
I do miss the quality and eficiency of customer services in England. People do complain there thought... forgive them God as they don't know what they're talking about!!
04 December, 2006
Meeting people
Being, as I am, a little Ms pro-active, not exactly shy and feeling quite lonely here, I know that I'm going to make friends eventually; but it does takes time and I do miss opening my heart to people, asking opinion and sharing laughter and troubles alike with my friends.
(remember, ladies, me arriving to the library and saying that I needed advice? how many times?)
Somehow, writting is not the same.
So, sometime ago I found a particularly nice post in the local newspaper in my hometown in Argentina (thanks Goddess for the Internet) written by a guy living in Barcelona about his daughter 15th's birthday party.
In Latin America, there's a tradition to throw a big party when a girl reaches her 15th birthday. And I mean a big party, where the parents spend as much as they can, with a lovely dress for the girl (sometimes as good and expensive as a wedding dress), sometimes a meal, and usually a big cake. After the meal there's a ball opened by the girl dancing with her dad, who then pass her to dance with all the other guys in the party (first family and then friends) and everybody joins in the dance. It's a rite of passage from childhood to adulthood such as the bar mitzbah o bat mitzbah for Jewish teens.
Click here if you want to read about this tradition in Wikipedia. And click here if you want to see the the kind of party, dress, etc.
I didn't have the party because I exchanged it for a 2 months tour in Europe which was a great idea at the time and still think so. Some girls exchange it for a car or even cosmetic surgery (a friend of mine got her nose done instead and in her case it was a wise choice as her face changed for the better).
So, while I was still in Bristol, I read the letter that this guy posted in the local newspaper in my hometown telling how he and his wife thrown the party for their daughter here in Spain, where there's not such a tradition, and how the party was such a success and all the girls' friends wanted one and so on. It was a lovely entry so I wrote to them and told them so, introduced myself and told them that I was moving here. We've been in touch since and we finally meet on Sunday for a coffee.
It felt as nerve wrecking as if it was a blind date because this people could became my future friends, so I felt as if I had to give a great first impression and so I was nervous, I fretted about what to wear and so on.
How long since you've had to meet new friends? For most people this is a silly question and they've not done it since college! If it happens that you meet some new people is by chance and not something you're actively pursuing anyway. They don't have to. I do.
(By the way, it's not that I've much to choose on the what-to-wear area, as most of my clothes are still packed in boxes)
Anyway. We met a lovely couple with a similar background than ours and the conversation run easily enough. They also brought another couple from our home town and they were nice too. We found that we had friends in common and of course, we also shared the experience of being expats. Although they left Argentina around 2002 when the country went into default (or "free fall"), in the mist of a very desperate economic situation and arrived here with almost nothing and had to build their life from scratch. We're the lucky ones, arriving here with a job, with money enough to buy a flat, with no legal difficulties. Also, their stories with the Spanish bureaucracy made my complains feel petty. We get on like the proverbial house on fire and couldn't stop chatting even when we had to live the cafe as they were closing down.
It's nice to meet nice people and we arranged to go play paddle one of this weekends. On my way home I felt good, although latter on I payed the price of the tension of being on my best behaviour all the time, and I was sick. It always happens to me after I've been in a tense situation, whatever they are, exams, meting new people, signing the mortgage papers, whatever... I'm fine and usually sparkling during the ordeal and then, as soon as I'm safe at home I go sick for hours.
(remember, ladies, me arriving to the library and saying that I needed advice? how many times?)
Somehow, writting is not the same.
So, sometime ago I found a particularly nice post in the local newspaper in my hometown in Argentina (thanks Goddess for the Internet) written by a guy living in Barcelona about his daughter 15th's birthday party.
In Latin America, there's a tradition to throw a big party when a girl reaches her 15th birthday. And I mean a big party, where the parents spend as much as they can, with a lovely dress for the girl (sometimes as good and expensive as a wedding dress), sometimes a meal, and usually a big cake. After the meal there's a ball opened by the girl dancing with her dad, who then pass her to dance with all the other guys in the party (first family and then friends) and everybody joins in the dance. It's a rite of passage from childhood to adulthood such as the bar mitzbah o bat mitzbah for Jewish teens.
Click here if you want to read about this tradition in Wikipedia. And click here if you want to see the the kind of party, dress, etc.
I didn't have the party because I exchanged it for a 2 months tour in Europe which was a great idea at the time and still think so. Some girls exchange it for a car or even cosmetic surgery (a friend of mine got her nose done instead and in her case it was a wise choice as her face changed for the better).
So, while I was still in Bristol, I read the letter that this guy posted in the local newspaper in my hometown telling how he and his wife thrown the party for their daughter here in Spain, where there's not such a tradition, and how the party was such a success and all the girls' friends wanted one and so on. It was a lovely entry so I wrote to them and told them so, introduced myself and told them that I was moving here. We've been in touch since and we finally meet on Sunday for a coffee.
It felt as nerve wrecking as if it was a blind date because this people could became my future friends, so I felt as if I had to give a great first impression and so I was nervous, I fretted about what to wear and so on.
How long since you've had to meet new friends? For most people this is a silly question and they've not done it since college! If it happens that you meet some new people is by chance and not something you're actively pursuing anyway. They don't have to. I do.
(By the way, it's not that I've much to choose on the what-to-wear area, as most of my clothes are still packed in boxes)
Anyway. We met a lovely couple with a similar background than ours and the conversation run easily enough. They also brought another couple from our home town and they were nice too. We found that we had friends in common and of course, we also shared the experience of being expats. Although they left Argentina around 2002 when the country went into default (or "free fall"), in the mist of a very desperate economic situation and arrived here with almost nothing and had to build their life from scratch. We're the lucky ones, arriving here with a job, with money enough to buy a flat, with no legal difficulties. Also, their stories with the Spanish bureaucracy made my complains feel petty. We get on like the proverbial house on fire and couldn't stop chatting even when we had to live the cafe as they were closing down.
It's nice to meet nice people and we arranged to go play paddle one of this weekends. On my way home I felt good, although latter on I payed the price of the tension of being on my best behaviour all the time, and I was sick. It always happens to me after I've been in a tense situation, whatever they are, exams, meting new people, signing the mortgage papers, whatever... I'm fine and usually sparkling during the ordeal and then, as soon as I'm safe at home I go sick for hours.
03 December, 2006
P's playing rugby
My son's rugby team (Sant Cugat) went to play against Barcelona on Saturday. It was a great match, no blood, no tears (well, almost not tears, at 10 they still cry sometimes) and a very proud bunch of parents because the kids played really well.I had to share this picture with you. "The husband" took it and I think it look just like one of those professional shots in the sport pages, full of movement. And my kid look scary and all grown! Certainly, not my baby anymore.
At the end of the movement he did tackle the little guy in yellow and his team recovered the ball.
A proud mummy.
01 December, 2006
How "the husband" saved the day
"The husband" is my hero.
He's totally absent minded and sometimes he concentrates on his job so much that he doesn't even listen what I say for days at the time. But from time to time he shows sparks of pure genius as he did yesterday.
We had to go to downtown Barcelona to sign all the papers for the flat, and, most importantly, for the mortgage. It was a very formal situation, the people from the estate agency were there, Monica (the lady who's doing all the mortgage negotiation and paper work) was there, the vendors of the flat were there. We all had to take at least the evening out of our jobs to be there and, of course, buying a house is the biggest financial transaction that normal people like us do, so it was all a very emotionally charged atmosphere. To top that up, in Spain 80% of real estate transactions are sign the last day of the month so, the whole building was packed with suited men, power-suited high-heeled women and tense looking people, all buzzing around a big, imposing, modernist looking bank.
We've told to bring our IDs, in my case the passport and proof that I'm resident in Spain, and nothing else because Monica already had copies of every little piece of paper that you can think of in a huge folder. However, before we left the flat to go to Barcelona, "the husband" hesitated before taking the lift and went back into our flat to pick a big folder where we keep all the documents that we've collecting since we sold the house in Bristol and move here. That's a big folder that my very scientifically minded husband did put together to organise everything.
I though that he was a bit anal retentive but didn't say anything and prayed that he was not to leave the folder on the train or wherever!
Later on, when we arrive into the bank, Monica came to greet us with a slightly deluded look in her eyes and she told us that due to the fact that we're UK citizens the bank people and, in particular, the notary who was there to make sure everything was ok, wanted to see all the original papers before the signing. Apparently that was quite unusual but the bank has the right to ask for it anyway.
I went into my zen mode. Meaning that I just froze there like the proverbial deer under the car lights.
And totally unexpectedly, "the husband" produced his folder and took out every single piece of the original documents. Monica, the estate agent and, to be honest, me too were totally, truly amazed. Then and there he was my hero.
So, the notary confirmed that all the copies were indeed true copies and we all went into a room-office where we sat around a big polished table. There, the notary read aloud all the documents and asked us all to confirm that in fact we were who we claimed we were and we all signed everything.
All a very formal and intimidating situation, I must say; only comparable as getting married in a UK registry. I feel as if I'm wedded to the mortgage now!! Very strange.
He's totally absent minded and sometimes he concentrates on his job so much that he doesn't even listen what I say for days at the time. But from time to time he shows sparks of pure genius as he did yesterday.
We had to go to downtown Barcelona to sign all the papers for the flat, and, most importantly, for the mortgage. It was a very formal situation, the people from the estate agency were there, Monica (the lady who's doing all the mortgage negotiation and paper work) was there, the vendors of the flat were there. We all had to take at least the evening out of our jobs to be there and, of course, buying a house is the biggest financial transaction that normal people like us do, so it was all a very emotionally charged atmosphere. To top that up, in Spain 80% of real estate transactions are sign the last day of the month so, the whole building was packed with suited men, power-suited high-heeled women and tense looking people, all buzzing around a big, imposing, modernist looking bank.
We've told to bring our IDs, in my case the passport and proof that I'm resident in Spain, and nothing else because Monica already had copies of every little piece of paper that you can think of in a huge folder. However, before we left the flat to go to Barcelona, "the husband" hesitated before taking the lift and went back into our flat to pick a big folder where we keep all the documents that we've collecting since we sold the house in Bristol and move here. That's a big folder that my very scientifically minded husband did put together to organise everything.
I though that he was a bit anal retentive but didn't say anything and prayed that he was not to leave the folder on the train or wherever!
Later on, when we arrive into the bank, Monica came to greet us with a slightly deluded look in her eyes and she told us that due to the fact that we're UK citizens the bank people and, in particular, the notary who was there to make sure everything was ok, wanted to see all the original papers before the signing. Apparently that was quite unusual but the bank has the right to ask for it anyway.
I went into my zen mode. Meaning that I just froze there like the proverbial deer under the car lights.
And totally unexpectedly, "the husband" produced his folder and took out every single piece of the original documents. Monica, the estate agent and, to be honest, me too were totally, truly amazed. Then and there he was my hero.
So, the notary confirmed that all the copies were indeed true copies and we all went into a room-office where we sat around a big polished table. There, the notary read aloud all the documents and asked us all to confirm that in fact we were who we claimed we were and we all signed everything.
All a very formal and intimidating situation, I must say; only comparable as getting married in a UK registry. I feel as if I'm wedded to the mortgage now!! Very strange.
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