Spanish Learning

Some stuff I've noticed about living in Spain:

Milk here doesn't have to go into the refrigerator until you open it.  I'm not sure why.  But there are boxes of milk in the cupboard and in the supermarket just sitting out on shelves.  I don't know what they do it to prevent it from going bad, but there's pretty much always milk when I want it.  Me gusta.

A tortilla here is not a Mexican tortilla.  It's basically an omelet, often with potatoes in it.  I had a huge argument about how the Mexican tortilla kind were still called tortillas even if they weren't considered the tortilla, and lost for about two days until the mom unwittingly bought tortillas mexicanos and I caught it her putting them back in the fridge with full proof of the name there on the bag.  Ha!

 Electricity is very expensive because they don't generate it within the country.  They have to buy it from the French.

They have rewritten Jane Eyre into modern English because it's apparently too difficult for schoolchildren to read the older style English.  It's not that I don't agree that it's more difficult, but I kind of think it loses some of the point of reading without a "most true" or "I could not unlove him now" thrown in there.

I can't talk about trying and liking any kind of food without the mom offering to try to make it for me.  Regardless of what it is.

There is no logical way to quickly get across the center of Madrid via metro.  You can either take three separate lines, or two separate methods of transit.

They've got some awesome phrases.  Instead of sleeping like a baby, you sleep like an angel.  When you're talking about your soulmate, you can say "mi media naranja" which means "my orange half."

They only eat French Toast at Easter.  What a loss!

"Hmm" means yes.

They don't eat raw veggies.  Or put cheese and fruit on the same plate.

Spanish Omlette

I helped make a Spanish omlette today for comida!  Very traditional and very hot.  Here are some pics!  We made two types, plain, which is just eggs and potatoes, and another with lomo, peas, and peppers added.  Yum!

Retiro, Protest and Vermouth!

Another Sunday morning in Madrid.  H and I decided not to go to the Rastro today, but went for a walk around the Retiro instead, one of Madrid's huge parks.  I still don't think I've been to all the corners.  It started out as a pretty nice day, not too cold, but started to look like threatening rain.  After walking for a bit, we decided to check out the book fair along one of the streets that we'd seen on our way in, and we ended up back near Atocha, where one of the main roundabouts is located.

We could hear the protest, with its whistles and shouts, long before we saw it.  It reminded me a lot of the Occupy marches down Market Street, except those protesting here in Madrid were mostly wearing long white doctor's coats.  Here, the hospital employees (doctors, nurses, and office staff) are protesting and have been on strike to protest the government want to turn hospitals from public entities into private.  When I had lunch with the family later on, it sparked a debate at the table which I was unfortunately only partially able to follow.


Afterward, H and I went to the oldest restaurant in the world (when I said that I thought a lot of places probably had claim to that title, he said that it was in the Guinness Book of World Records, though I haven't confirmed that) and had vermouth, which is an alcoholic drink made from the roots of a number of different plants.  Hey...wait a minute...that sounds a lot like my favorite non-alcoholic drink!  And it tasted a bit similar too.  I think I've finally figured out why Europe doesn't have root beer.  They have vermouth instead!

English Questions and Christmas Songs

I'm not really sure how it happened, but yesterday I ended up spending my afternoon teaching a couple English classes again with the mother of the house.  I don't know if it was just because these were older kids or if it was because this school specializes more in English, but these kids did actually speak a decent amount of English.  They had great fun asking me a number of questions about myself, ranging from "What's your animal" to "How many sons and daughters do you have?"

One boy asked what my brother's name was when I hadn't said that I had a brother, and when I told him, it turned out that he had the same name.  Very strange.  And a couple of the girls were thrilled when they saw the Hunger Games pin on my jacket, babbling excitedly in Spanish before reigning it back in and switching to English.  So it is popular in Spain as well, though the mother had to ask me what it was all about after school.

I was introduced to pretty much everyone we met in the hall as I tried to get my Spanish presentations in order ("Encantado de conocerte") though I'm still puzzled as to what form I'm supposed to be using with people.  The tu form is more informal, and what everyone seems to be using, but I'm never sure if I'm supposed to be a bit more formal because I don't know everyone.  But then they use the tu form with me, and I'm not sure if it's because I'm seen as inferior to them and I should still use the more formal form with them, or if they're being friendly and informal.  Ack!  But everyone was really nice, and we actually went out for a beer with the school President before having lunch and going to teach classes.  Which was really strange, but apparently a pretty normal thing to do there.

The best part of each class was definitely the end, when they sang me the Christmas song they're preparing for the pagent.  I had recommended "Up on the Housetop" to the mother and she loved it.  Especially with all the motions.  And the kids love it too.  They were adorable, all singing happily in their school uniforms.  I wish I had video!

Toledo

Toledo!  The medieval town that still has old bridges and a wall running around its borders.  It's a place with a lot of history attached, and where Jews, Muslims and Christians coexisted peacefully for many years, despite wars and reconquerings.  It also boasts the artist El Greco as one of its most famous inhabitants.  It's also part of La Mancha, where Don Quixote is famous for saber-rattling about, and they had a whole trail as well as a lot of figurines.

The first place we came out in was this old Muslim building which serves as the train station.  It has a lot of lovely stained glass and a tiled floor that we shortly found was typical of the period. It's almost a tourist attraction in itself.

Next came the hike into Toldeo.  It's not very far, but it is up a lot of stairs once you cross the old bridge over the river to get into the city.  But the views you get along the way are worth it.

And I swear, H knows people everywhere.  We no sooner struggle our way up the city stairs and across the street to the main square then he grabs hold of a policeman and starts chattering away.  Apparently they knew one another from summers when they were kids, and hadn't seen one another for 15 years.  But his friend was able to give us a quick lowdown on some places to eat, which was great.

There was a lot of walking around the city to see the sights, which were mostly old cathedrals and churches and mosques converted into churches after the Muslims were kicked out in favor of Christianity.  Down by the river, they had the ruins of some old Muslim baths, where hot springs had to be.  We also wandered into the Jewish quarter to see the building which had been mocked up as El Greco's home, which I wouldn't have minded living in.  We also stopped by a couple of convents, one where they hand-made jewelry inlayed with gold and another cloistered convent where they sold marzipan.  Buying some of that from a nun was an interesting experience, seeing that you're not allowed to actually see the nun.  They sit on the other side of the wall and you open a door in the wall to hear and talk to them.  Then they spin your order around on a lazy Susan, and you take it and spin your money back to them.  What I most liked about this was that it was entirely based on trust that people wouldn't take the marzipan and then not pay.  Because it's not like they could chase after you, either.

By then, it was time to grab some lunch before heading back to the train.  We made our way back through the narrow streets (at one point, H put out his arms and found that he could practically touch both side walls at once) and H guided us to a place his policeman friend had recommended, El Trébol.  His friend said that it had been a great bar even before the owner had wanted to expand it and discovered the ruins of a roman-esq bath feeding off the hot springs that were once there.  It's set up now with a glass floor so you can examine the ruins under your feet as you eat.

The recommended menu item here was La Bomba, which H assured me was traditional Spanish cuisine.  It's basically a ball of meat covered in potato, which is then fried in breadcrumbs and split in half, served with a dollop of garlicky mayo and ketchup.  Pretty fantastic.  Though when I got home and was telling the family about my adventures, the mother swore up and down that she'd never heard of it before.  This obviously forced us to look it up, which proved even more interesting because of the dish's background.  It was created in Barcelona during the Spanish civil war and actually was modeled after the round, fuse lit bombs that were used during the fighting of the time.  It was also usually accompanied by a spicy red sauce and a line of mayo that was supposedly the lit fuse.  Isn't history fascinating sometimes?

Happy Constitution Day!

December 6th, the Spanish Constitution Day, is a national holiday much like the 4th of July is celebrated in in the US.  Though I don't think there are fireworks.  Regardless, this is one of the few days of the year when all the museums are free, so I decided to take advantage and take a look around the National Museo Reina Sophia, which I suppose is closest akin to a modern art museum.

The building itself is quite cool.  It was a hospital in the 18th century, but has had a lot of remodeling done, most recently three glass elevators that zoom you up to the correct floor.  The entire thing is square with an outdoor courtyard in the center, so you'd think that going through each exhibit would just be a matter of circling around to see the entire thing.  Not so.  It's super easy to get lost or to miss a few rooms if you don't know where you're going or paying attention to room numbers.  There is also an addition building attached that has an awesome terrace that was fun to explore even on a freezing cold night.

I'll just start by saying that there was a lot of odd modern art going on inside.  I decided on a whim to start at the top floor, which turned out to be the most modern of the modern art, and subsequently moved backward through time as I went.

They had expositions on both art as language and sound, both of which were kind of unexpected and interesting.  I didn't realize that there had been a whole artistic movement about language and writing and the symbols we use to represent sounds.  I really liked a lot of the pieces in that exhibit, maybe just being a language person and all.  I'm kind of interested in experimenting when I get back now.  And the sound pieces were pretty cool too.  There were a lot of rooms that you would walk into and hear shouts or murmurings, or dark rooms with videos of people talking and reading aloud.

There were a number of other strange rooms, such as one that had apparently trucked in gravel and sand and set up a beach area, complete with alive, occasionally shrieking birds.  Another room had rows and rows of water goblets set up, and yet another had parts of picture frames spread across the floor in a seemingly random pattern.  There was also a section of the museum dedicated to sexual freedom (though that was a no-pictures-allowed area no doubt due to the more graphic nature of the exhibitions).  There were a number of photos too, many documenting war and atrocities committed.  There was also a section on art propaganda, which I always find interesting.  Really makes me want to work on my art skills.

La convaleciente, by Maria Blanchard

Nature morte cubiste, by Maria Blanchard

 Down on the lower levels there were, of course, the obligatory paintings of more traditional 20th century art, before art went abstract beyond the frame.  Cubism was one of the major movements, and there were a couple of Picassos, a number of Barques and an entire exhibit dedicated to the works of Maria Blanchard, who I found fascinating as an artist.  She had a lot of different periods for her work, producing a wide variety of paintings from the strict line cubist to lovely and very Spanish images of people.  I also saw another side of Picasso that I appreciated a bit more than his more signature work of people.  After seeing so many traditional paintings, I kind of like how everything in a cubist painting isn't immediately obvious, and how, even in different colors and jagged angles, objects can still look like objects.

Les oiseaux morts, by Pablo Picasso

The most popular place of the night was obviously the section of the second floor that had the exhibition on the Spanish civil war, with art and photos from that time.  It was interesting to see art both for and against Franco coupled together, as well as everything just about Spain and their lifestyle and way of thinking then.  Picasso's famous painting Guernica was on display, which shows the cost of war on its often innocent civilians, and which specifically depicts the civil war.  Considering the day was about celebrating the end of the war, I think it was a pretty fitting place to end my tour of the museum remembering all that was lost and gained.

After, I made my way over to the Teatro Espanol and bought a ticket for Yo Soy Don Quixote de La Mancha, seeing that the book Don Quixote, by Miguel Cervantes, seems to be the most famous and popular piece of Spanish literature around, and the one that everyone here seems to reference.  Shakespeare isn't that popular here, maybe because his archic form of English is even more difficult to read than normal English, and any translator would have quite a difficult time putting the same level of word brilliance into another language.

I ducked into a bar for some sangria and carne empanadas before the show at a very strange but good pub, then went back to the theater, prepared for Spanish language.  I already knew the plot of the story, but unfortunately for me, they had put a bit more of a modern twist on it, which made things a little harder to follow, but I got along all right.  There were times when I actually worried for the older actor playing the delusional Don Quixote (who is apparently a very famous and well-regarded Spanish actor, the mother told me), because if he actually forgot his lines like he seemed to every now and then, who would know if it was an act or if he was just actually really old and feeble?  It was a masterful performance, and I'm definitely glad I went, even though I'm certain I didn't get all the subtleties.

That left just enough time to walk back to Princpie Pio through Puerta del Sol and La Plaza Mayor, where all the Christmas lights were lit, the stores open late, and people were dancing in the streets for the fiesta.

El Rastro

El Rastro is a huge flea market that is held every Sunday morning in a section of La Latina barrio in Madrid.  It's only open until three o'clock in the afternoon, keeping to the tradition that after that, most people will have had their lunch and will be headed back home for a siesta.

H and I headed into the area a little after ten, on the back of his moto (motorcycle).  It was absolutely freezing, and one of the first things I did at the market was buy a pair of gloves to cram on my hands in my pockets.  El Rastro is a great place to find some of the typical tourist and clothes stuff for sure, but it also had a lot of odds and ends as well.  One of the stalls had a lot of random old knobs and fixtures, where you could maybe find a part you needed for an old lamp.  Another had a lot of old postcards from random places, and old photographs, such as some from people's weddings long ago that they were selling.  I had to wonder how they came across such things.

In addition to the stalls, there are a lot of antique shops lining the streets that are open Sunday as well.  A lot of them have some pretty cool old things, and H pointed out another smaller golden sphere like the one we saw the other weekend at El Escorial in the library.  I'm definitely going to have to get me one of those when I live in a place big enough to have a library.  They also had a lot of old books in Spanish for sale, as well as Spanish comic books.

They also had a couple of food stands, one which sold some sweet roots which just look like little tree branches.  And you don't actually eat them, just chew on them.  I didn't buy any.  But I did have another traditional snack, which looked like a flat waffle cone dipped in a bit of chocolate.  The consistency was a little different, but it tasted pretty good.  I had crumbs all down my jacket and scarf anyway, so it definitely seemed like I was enjoying it, apparently.

H also told me that El Rastro used to be famous for how they would sell animals on the street as well, though that's no longer allowed.  And how a lot of the stall owners are gypsies, who are people from India, who are louder than most Spaniards with darker skin.  At least, that's how he tells it.

After we explored for a while, we took part in another Rastro tradition of stopping for drinks and tapas before lunch.  The Rastro is held in one of the older parts of Madrid, and we went to El Madroño, one of the older bars in the city and had a lively debate about the tradition of tapas and having drinks so early in the day which morphed into a discussion of restaurants, chefs and Michelin stars.  I had a delicious cider, and H related that most bars in Madrid don't actually serve cider any longer, because it's too old school.  So here's to the celebration of tradition, even when it's no longer in style.

Teaching

Here's a mishmash of thoughts on teaching the young ones at the school, now that I've been there for two weeks.  They've finally hired someone who will be there full time through June, so I'll get my days exploring Madrid back after Monday.  It'll be nice, but I'm really glad I had the chance to see what it was like working in the schools.  A perfect little interlude.  A couple kids even drew me pictures!  Anyway:

It`s really interesting to see the different methods of learning and teaching that take place here at school.  For example, the kids only learn block capitals for writing until second year (when they`re about seven) which is when they learn cursive.  And they aren`t supposed to have to do any writing in English until that second year, so all of it has to be oral learning or matching worksheets, but nothing that requires writing down the words.  Apparently this can get pretty difficult after a while, because you`re pretty limited with the types of games you can play with them.  And for the really young ones, the three year olds, English is not really recognizable at all.  I`ve read a couple of books with big pictures to them, pointing out animals and colors and other things, but I´m not sure how much of it actually sinks in.  I think the main point is for the kids to become accustomed to hearing it, and understanding comes later down the line.  I have been singing a lot of songs in English with some of the younger kids too, such as the Itsy Bitsy Spider (one of the teachers thought Itsy Bitsy was the name of the spider), and I`m kind of thinking maybe a few years down the road, a couple of these kids might have an epiphany about some of the words in the song once they get to a level where they understand what they mean.  I know that I remember my favorite Spanish word to use, quizas (which means perhaps or maybe) because it was in a song.  About cows or something.

The great thing about working with younger kids is that they really gravitate toward you even when they can´t understand a word that comes out of your mouth.  I get swarmed with hugs in the hallways now that I`ve been in classes with everyone for a few weeks and they all know who I am.  I was a little surprised that even the boys wanted to come and hug me and hold my hand, and I even had one creep into my lap during a story.  It`s a lot more acceptable for boys to show emotions here, and I think it`s great.

I think the main teachers really like me to, because it gives some of them who have a little English but not much the chance to practice speaking with me in a way that I think they`re shy to do with the other English teachers who do speak Spanish pretty well.  Being able to speak English is getting to be a necessity for teachers these days - one teacher had a pretty sad last day yesterday.  She`s an amazing teacher and has been working as a substitute in this class for four years and the kids really love her (they spray painted as much on the cement in front of the school) but they`re not renewing her contract because she doesn`t speak any English.  And apparently this isn`t the first teacher this has happened to in this district.  Spain feels like it`s pretty behind the rest of Europe in English speaking because under Franco, the country was very closed off and self-sufficient, and to some extent they are, but that`s nothing compared to how little most people in the US know of other languages, I feel.  But, being that English seems to be kind of the unofficial universal language, we can get by a lot easier.

Some of my class specific experiences:

On Monday afternoons in the three year old classes, parents come and the kids divide up into various groups to do activities.  A lot of them are more typical, like making something with clay or doing acting, but they also had cooking, where the kids made sugar cookies with cookie cutters one week and little shish kabobs and tea sandwiches another, and domestic tasks, which I think is my favorite to watch.  It`s pretty much exactly what it sounds like - they teach the kids how to wash their cups, how to tie their shoes, how to make a bed, how to hang up and fold laundry.  In the US, these are probably things parents usually teach their kids, but I thought it was great that everyone was being taught in class, because again, there was little distinction between the boys and girls, and no distinction about tasks that are only supposed to be for girls or anything like that.  I liked the lack of assumption.

A lot of the time, especially with the infant classes, I tend to come during their play time, when they basically tear apart the room and empty boxes of toys everywhere.  Playtime is pretty crazy and often doesn`t have much supervision, so kids grab things and learn to work out a lot of problems on their own.  They still go running to teacher if there`s a constant problem, like if one student keeps hitting them and won`t leave them alone, but I feel like they tend to figure things out like sharing and dealing with it if they get hit by a toy on their own.  I´m not sure if this is improved, because the kids do like to grab things from one another, but the problem solving, playing with another toy if one gets taken, may be a part of the more relaxed cultural lifestyle.

I had an awesome class with the seven year olds the other day.  In the first week, the teachers weren´t really counting on my presence, so they would do their typical lessons and I would just walk around and talk to the kids in English.  But I´m being incorporated a little more into the classes now, and we did a lesson on the human skeleton.  The teacher would talk for a bit in Spanish, and I would recap the same thing in English.  We talked about the biggest and smallest bones in the human body, as well as the skull, the spine, and others.  We also talked about why bones are important and what keeps them strong.  The kids were really engaged with the English as well as the Spanish, which was great.

On Thursday and Friday afternoons, the classes that I'm in typically have art, so I usually walk around and talk with them, asking them what their name is in English and how old they are, what their favorite color is, if they have any brothers or sisters, etc to get them talking and listening in English.

There was one girl who told me she had a sister and I kept asking her if her sister was older or younger than her, but she would only shake her head and look at me instead of answering.  I thought she just didn`t understand the question in English, but then I figured out that she was a twin and they were the same age.  Doh.