I like my Sketchers…

My kids are learning about food in both English and Science. The only grammar they need to know in English is, “Can I have a(n)/some ____, please?”, but I am the most exigente teacher ever and make them ask for everything in English.

So I amped it up, asking them to start distinguishing between I like and I love and I don’t like/I hate.

I wanted to use this video, but figured it would be too tough:

Instead, they folded a sheet of paper into four parts and labeled them, I LOVE, I LIKE, I DON’T LIKE, I HATE, filling in the blank and drawing the word.

I got everything from I love football to I hate football, got one I don’t like Engliss (typo intentional, here) and I don’t like pizza (who are youuuu?).

My favorite is below:

Now accepting awards for Greatest English Teacher Ever

Say hello to my little friend.

I want to introduce you to someone.

His name is Camarón, not to be confused by the other one from la Isla.

Clearly the most expensive thing I’ve ever bought, besides plane tickets. Seems like a natural progression, as my interest for photography is likely stemmed from my passion for traveling.

Truth is, I feel naked without my camera, so having a big one dangling from my neck gives me a helluva lot more assurance that no one is checking out my muffin tops.

I spent my 19-day Christmas vacation in the American Southwest, snapping up Kike’s obsession with his Christmas present, stately saguaro cacti and the dazzling lights of the Vegas strip. Camarón got a good workout, and we’re starting to get to know one another. I wish I would have thought about investing in one earlier, as I’ve been making treadmarks on the Earth for ten years now, but timing is sometimes everything – I won back the value of the camera on penny slots in Vegas!

Maria Pita: Hace Un Año

This is Plaza Maria Pita, the central square of La Coruña, the city I’m residing in this month.

When showing my teachers around the town today, we stopped in the plaza to marvel at the grandiose town hall, the colonnades and patrons the bars finishing their pulpo a la feira. A beautiful, open space that channels right out to the port on this seaside city.

But I remember it like this:

One year ago, I was with a crop of other teachers decked out in red and yellow, Spanish flags adorning our faces. I’ve always said that one thing I will do in my lifetime is see the Olympic Games in person (I shelled out 15 euros to see the Olympic Museum in Lausanne afterall!), but watching your resident country win the World Cup is an experience that can’t really be jotted down in a journal, pecked out on a blog. I got that feeling again today when visiting the square.

It’s amazing how sport brings people together. I spent hours in front of TVs in bar, watching matches and crossing my fingers that Pulpo Paul was right all along. My low expectations for America meant I was rooting for the other home team, along with the countries represented by the rest of the familia: Germany and Mexico.  We all came together for something greater than ourselves, something that was a bright spot in a few dark years for Spain.

It’s been a whole year since Iker hoisted the trophy above his head. In that time, I’ve become an official resident of a country that now feels like home, so I feel that my bliss in Spain’s W was merited. I still think back on that night, one in which I jumped in the iceberg-cold Cantábrico just because I was so happy.

I like to think of Maria Pita just like that.

Volveremos a Primera, Real Betis Balompié

They say there are three great fútbol afficions in Europe: Barça, Real Madrid and Betis. The azulgrana is mighty, Madrid a heavy hitter and, um, Betis isn’t even in the premiere league.

Until tonight.

After a rough week, my friend Kim called to invite me to a game. Based on a points system (I swear these people must be economists), Spaniards make predictions on who will ascend to or, worse, be kicked out of the top tier of the Spanish League. Number of goals scored is more important than whether the game is won or tied, and the other Sevillian team’s nine points ahead of it’s next opponent as of the kick-off time made it clear that, with a win tonight and Celta’s loss to a strong Salamanca tomorrow, the return to primera was locked in.

In order to boost attendance at games, season ticket holders, called socios, can score extra tickets for only 15€. I grabbed the only green shirt I had (the other option was my lime-green shawl from Feria) and headed south to Estadio Benito Villamarín, home to the verdiblancos.

Roaring with cariño, the béticos waved their green and blue scarves while shouting insults at their crosstown rivals, FC Sevilla, and the night’s opponents, Tenerife. Once in our seats at the top end of the home section, we joined the fans dancing to theme songs, chants and dances. The line up announced, the béticos perched in their seats, Betis’s Casto delivered a clear shot into the net, and the béticos were on their feet.

I miss American football, namely watching Monday Night Football with my dad or drinking my first beer at 6am on Melrose Avenue in Iowa City. But something about my afición for my second city and its fútbol is starting to make me feel more at home.

The fútbol that night was a little bit soso, but Betis pulled out a win, and our return to the top division is secured. Fans rushed the field, diving onto the astroturf, waving scarves and flags, and taking pictures. I was rushed back to Kinnick stadium on game days, making me nostalgic and a little
bit homesick. But, I had to live in the moment. Volveremos a primera, Real Betis Balompíe!!

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