A Life Changing Experience

So, yesterday was just your typical Friday. I went to school, came home, had lunch.... and then my life changed.

My birthday is this weekend, so we're having a little party at my house today. That, of course, involves grocery shopping in a major way. I'm not sure whether or not I've shared the whole grocery shopping process with you or not... but it involves a bus ride to Mercadona, and a long and laborious trip back home, loaded down with bags and bags of groceries. I'm sure we look like fools when we do this... and we do this rather often.

When grocery shopping this way, we usually have to think about things in the following manner: 1. how heavy is it? 2. do I really need it? 3. can I carry it back without squishing it?  -- and this next problem could inspire a whole new topic of conversation -- but, 4. will it fit in the refrigerator? Aside from these trips to Mercadona, smaller, supplemental shopping trips are often required during the week. Things like juice, milk, and bottles of Coke Light don't make the cut at the grocery store. They are way too heavy to carry along with the rest of the groceries. It's much easier to carry them home from a chino, or from the little grocery store that we have here in el casco.

Our big shopping trips usually happen about once a week. We can only carry about a week's worth of groceries while simultaneously ensuring that our limbs don't completely lose circulation and that we don't pull anything serious.

But yesterday, that all changed.

Knowing that I would have to buy lots of food and several bottles of beverages for this party, Bailey and I decided yesterday to just eat the cost of having our groceries shipped to our house. Yes. That has always been an option. For €4,21 you can have all of your goods brought straight to your home. And no, we had never done it before yesterday.

Between the two of us, we went to Mercadona, got a normal size shopping cart, overloaded it with every heavy object you could imagine -- bottles, cans, boxes of milk, etc. And then we went to the check out line. There was no strategic bag-packing, everything just went back into the cart... and after we had paid, we walked out of there with only 1 bag each, carrying the essential items that we wanted to have right then. We walked back to the bus stop, and headed home without being weighed down by our purchases. Though I have to be honest, it did feel like I was leaving the store, never to see those groceries again.

Until 2 hours later. We got a ring at the doorbell. It was Mercadona! And here they came, with the craziest little invention of a dolly that climbs stairs. With ALL of the food loaded onto it. The man came in, carried our groceries TO THE KITCHEN, and in 5 minutes, was on his way back to Mercadona.

WHAT? IT COULD HAVE BEEN THAT EASY THIS WHOLE TIME????

I only have a few weeks left here now... and in about 2 weeks, I won't have Bailey around to share the delivery cost with me anymore... but wow. My life has been revolutionized. I might still spring for the delivery... it makes life so much less complicated.

I'm going to have to say...
America, I think Spain wins in the grocery delivery department. Until yesterday, I hated grocery shopping here... but now... wow. I can't imagine anything being more easy! (Let's just hope this doesn't mean bigger grocery bills!)

Speak in Espanish....

So I have been feeling relatively incompetent regarding my Spanish lately. For about the last 2 weeks, I have been answering questions (asked in Spanish) with English, conjugating verbs incorrectly, coming to terms with my profound lack of familiarity with the subjunctive, and avoiding writing any form of the language for fear that anybody who reads it will finally realize that I've really just been faking it all along. When people comment or compliment me on my speaking abilities, I politely smile and say thank you, and convince myself that it's all just a grand lie, made up to console me for my pathetic efforts. I had a visit with the foreigner's office this week, which of course, left me with the feeling that I am only about 70% conscious of what is going on in my life.

So that's a little frustrating.

But this has to be the low swing of a vicious cycle.
I promise you that there are other days when I wake up feeling like Spanish could be my native tongue. There are times when it takes every ounce of willpower to respond to my friends and family in English, because everything in me just wants to rattle of the Spanish words instead. There are days when, unconsciously, I hear and understand what is being said on the radio -- without even realizing that I was listening to the radio in the first place. And there are days that, when I'm offered a compliment about my Spanish, I graciously accept it, let it puff my chest out a little, and then I keep right on with the conversation, without even skipping a beat of Castellano.

I was talking today with a coworker -- about next year, about going to Sevilla, and about how this year has been. And she told me that my Spanish has gotten a lot better. "You spoke well when you got here," she said, "but now you speak much faster, and I can tell that you understand better." I told her about my recent falling out with the Spanish language, and that it's difficult for me to notice any improvement. But she assured me that everybody else can tell. Let's hope so.

Honestly, despite my recent frustrations, I would probably have to agree that my Spanish has improved quite a bit. Thinking about vocabulary alone -- I can probably say that my vocabulary has increased by at least one word for each day that I have been here. And that's pretty impressive, I suppose. I've learned new expressions and phrases, and I've picked up more of the pause words, the subtle intonations, and the body language that accompanies the spoken words. And I've gotten better at listening as well. It now takes less effort, and I understand more of what's being said.

And perhaps I will gain confidence in my Spanish one of these days, when I finally respond to my students' requests to "speak in Espanish!!" To this point, they are only speculating that I can speak it, as I've never actually spoken to them in Spanish (this has pros and cons, but that's another topic altogether). Rumor has it, though, that I've been speaking to other professors in Spanish, and that, in my moments of weakness, I've let some words slip (that have since been ringing through the hallways as proof that I'm hiding something)! And who knows, maybe next week I'll finally let them in on that secret. When I do, I hope it blows them away. The only downside to this is that, if I do speak to them in Spanish, I'll have to make sure that I don't mess up -- middle schoolers can be brutal. This could be the make-or-break moment for me!

Let's hope that tomorrow is one of those blessed days where the Spanish flows freely. It makes everything here a little easier.

RIP TOMS.

So this weekend marks the death of my second pair of TOMS... For good. Their final resting place is in a garbage can, in my cousin's apartment, in France.

I was really torn about whether or not to throw them away. I mean, just look at the pictures -- obviously it was their time. And let's face it -- when you're flying with EasyJet, there's just no room for "extra" luggage. I couldn't rationalize carrying them back with me! But that doesn't mean that it was any less difficult for me to part with them!
These shoes have literally moved me from Pittsburgh to Toledo. They have left their mark in the United States, Spain, Portugal, Ireland, Germany, Hungary, Austria, Switzerland, and France. And they have only had a short life -- a mere 10 months, maximum!

I guess I'll probably just have to get a replacement pair of TOMS this summer. I wonder where the next ones will take me...
Oh, and I suppose this also helps me to feel better about having to find a new pair of shoes. Looks like I may need to take a trip to the mall this weekend... or to Madrid. hmmmmmmmm...

And speaking of sad deaths..... (this one, arguably more important than the one posted above).....
The cotton candy/lemonade guy from Pittsburgh died this week! What a sad day! I mean, Pittsburgh sporting events will just never be the same!
Here is a link to DVE's song about him....
This, of course, makes me miss Pittsburgh and listening to the morning show! But soon enough I'll be there.... and I'm not quite sure if I'm ready to leave Toledo yet... or Spain.

ahem... I have an announcement.

Next year, I will be living in
SEVILLA!!!

I got my placement letter today. I'll be at a middle school again, too!
I'm basically super excited right now.......... :D :D :D


But right now I have to pack a bag. I'm heading to Geneva, Switzerland this weekend!
Oh, what a life I lead. I am so blessed.

Loving Life

Here is why I love my life. In the last 3 days I have:

• made cupcakes.
• eaten cupcakes.
• gone to a birthday party.
• climbed a mountain full of teenagers, who were camping out in tents.
• ridden a boat (catamaran) across the river.
• had tea (and more cupcakes) with friends.
• gambled for sweets with old Spaniards.
• gone out for pizza.
• had beers and good conversations with a friend.
• stayed out past midnight on a Sunday night.
• painted a picture, while sitting in the plaza in front of the cathedral.
• been complimented by a young Spanish boy on my drawing abilities. (Which may also have been the first time in my life that I have ever been complimented on my drawing abilities.)
• darkened my tan. (as evidenced by the line from my watch... oh, and by my farmer's tan.)
• played card games, colored, and laughed with 9 year old girls.
• gone for walks with no destination.
• gotten paid. Twice.

And I still have one more day of weekend left.  Now do you see why I can't come home yet??
Oh, and PS, I am going to Switzerland next weekend. Somebody pinch me... am I dreaming?

My painting. A field of amapolas.

Video Friday!

I found this video on facebook, posted in one of the groups for Language Assistants in Spain.

Me hace mucha gracia. heheheh
...Especially because I've pulled the mini-stapler in the purse trick before.
Pero así es la vida...

where the beer chases my blues away...

I spent the majority of my Tuesday this week at the radiology clinic/hospital, despite the fact that I was only in the presence of medical professionals for a total of about 20 minutes. You see, the bus schedules are just crazy. They only go to the hospital once an hour, which means, when I finished talking to the doctor 5 minutes after I got there, I had a nice 55 minute wait ahead of me. And I had to do this twice in one day, because the first time I went, the doctor wasn't even in. Sooo exciting. But at least I was able to finish a book that I had been reading.

But this post isn't about hospitals or waiting, or even about books. It's about what I encountered during my wait. Oh, and PS. I am fine. I'm not even sick. I was sick, about 2 months ago, and we're just now getting around to making sure everything is okay. And it appears that everything is, in fact, okay.

So anyway, what did I encounter?

Well, during my wait, and since I had to forgo breakfast before my stomach x-ray, I decided to grab a bocadillo in the hospital cafeteria. It was nothing special. Just you're typical, run of the mill, hospital cafeteria -- except for one thing: BEER. Yes, my friends. They do indeed serve beer in the hospital cafeteria. Which means that I have to add this to my list of craziest places to find beer in Spain.

CRAZIEST PLACES TO FIND BEER IN SPAIN
1. Any store that sells food/refreshments is likely to sell beer (which isn't really all that strange, unless you were born and raised in Pennsylvania, (and I was) -- where beer only comes from a distributor, and liquor only comes from the "state store")
2. The library cafeteria. (What?)
3. McDonalds (I mean, really?)
4. Teachers' lounge of an elementary school (in the shared community refrigerator... fortunately it isn't for sale in the cafeteria) (this witnessed by my roommate, in her school. My school is only lucky enough to store bottles of wine in the teacher's lounge.)
5. The refrigerator of the Catholic charities (where I did an internship 2 summers ago. Maybe I'm just so used to the Protestant views on drinking, but I would have never expected to find it at a religiously affiliated organization!)
6. The ice skating rink that was set up in the plaza during Christmas. (Don't mind that the covered tent was tiny enough as it was -- they could only make the rink half the size of the tent, to save room for a bar, which obviously had beer on tap.)
And now, of course, adding to our list.....
7. The hospital cafeteria
Am I missing anything?

While I was originally caught completely off-guard by finding beer at the hospital (I mean, it does seem a little counterproductive, doesn't it?), I actually find it rather endearing now. And oh, so typically Spanish. Seeing beer in crazy places just makes me love Spain even more. It's like seeing your crazy uncle do something so typically "crazy uncle", that you just can't help but love him more, in spite of his antics.

I might even miss this about Spain when I go home for the summer. I'll miss seeing the old men drinking beer in the cafes at 8am when I am on my way to work. I'll miss being invited to beer at 11:30 on a Saturday morning, by a totally respectable working mother. I'll miss going out for cañas on lazy afternoons, just because.

The truth is, I could do all of the aforementioned things in the United States as well, but it just wouldn't be the same. Beer is so much more enjoyable for me here. Maybe it's the relaxed attitude that the Spaniards hold toward it. Or, who knows, maybe it really does taste better at 8am, and we wouldn't know, simply because we've never tried it!