Happy Spaniversary to Me!

September 12, 2011 by · 8 Comments

Dragging my gently worn suitcases outside, I hoisted 100 pounds of my life into to car. Four hours from that moment, after a quick lunch at Portillo’s and a long goodbye, I’d be on a plane bound for Madrid-Barajas with my grandmother, ready to reimmerse myself in Spanish life for two weeks before making a nine-month move to Seville.

Ha, what would my life be if it actually happened like that?

That, my friends, was four years ago today. That’s about 12 percent of my life, as long as I called myself a Hawkeye, twice as long as I thought I’d ever make it in the land of Sunshine and Siestas. But, here I am, quasi married, españolizada’d and just plain happy with where I’m at.

When Helen left Spain a few weeks later, after we’d spent hours on trains, long meals getting to know each other, and discovering just how many facets Iberia seems to have, she left not just Spain, but me, too. I was all alone.

I took her to the airport in Granada and cried. Where would I go from here? Well, I went to Carrefour, Spain’s closest thing to Target, and bought a comforter. This had to mean I was a real Spaniard now, right?

As I read the reactions of first timers in Spain, I like to think I hit the ground running on this whole “España” thing. When Kike and I went to a wedding and I belted out the words to an 80s song touting just how great Spain is, I received cheers, and Kike pats on the back. I love Spain, and Spain loves me right back.

McDonalds is made of skinny cows? Deep.

So, in honor of my four years in the wonderful word of Cervantes, machos, lack of tacos and people in desperate need of my native tongue (aka I have a way to earn money always), here’s four things I love about it (hint: it’s not fútbol or flamenco):

Feria

Esa semana tan emblamética…There are no words sufficient enough to describe the sight of thousands dressed in flamenco dresses, the smell of fried food and sherry (ok, and a whiff of horse poop) and the sound of lively flamenco music pouring out of striped tents. I’ve lived some of my favorite moments in the Real, a stark stretch of nothing 51 weeks of the year, and many of them have left me feeling more Spanish than American (ruffles and a big old comb stuck in your head will do that to a girl).

Food

My mother always said that food was a way to a man’s heart, employing me in the business of baked goods goddess when I was barely old enough to reach the counter. While it isn’t easy to cook in Spain with the conversion to the metric system, grabbing a tapa is as easy as walking ten meters in any direction. And, dude, do I love it all – dátiles con beicon, fabada, lentejas, gazpacho, solomillo. Since Spain has influences from around the Mediterranean and I’m the sixth member of a Spanish family, I am no longer concerned that I will whittle away to ná.

What’s more, meals in Spain are sacred. Midday grub is hearty and often lasts hours, stretching to café and then cognac. Going out for tapas is the way to be seen, be fed, and be happy – the ultimate social experiment. And Fernan Adrià has put tapas and haûte cuisine on the map in Spain, bringing fame to San Sebastian’s pintxos, Granada’s free tapas and a squealing little cochinillo in the central regions.

If you’re really daring, ask me what I eat. While I’ve never been picky, I’m certainly more adventurous (though I will never forgive my boyfriend for once feeding my pig kidney soaked in wine. Ew).

Paisajes

Maybe it’s simply because Switzerland was cloudy while I was there, but I love the varied landscapes Spain bets with. As one of the most mountainous regions in all of Europe, I have no shortage of valleys, rivers, peaks and everything in between. What’s more, Andalucía, the region I call home, meets the sea – both Mediterranean and Atlantic. The North has lush, rolling hills in Santander, stark plains in Castilla La Mancha and acre after acre of sunflower fields all over the country. Train and bus rides aren’t mundane – they’re inspiring.

La manera de ser

Call me crazy, but I love Spanish people, especially Andalusians and Galicians. The way a people can be so aware of their past, so adherent to their traditions and so stuck on living la vida buena. Anyone who knew me pre-Spain knows me as wound-up, neurotic and biting off way more than even fits in my mouse. But Spain’s attitude of mañana, mañana– just plain old taking it easy – has helped me calm down and take things as they come. That foreigner’s office business? Meh, this is Spain friends. And not having a job when school started? Well, this is the way things work here.

But somehow, I think I’ve ended up just where I wanted to be. And where I was meant to, too.

Filed Under: Andalucia, Auxiliar Program, Auxiliares Norteamericanos, Europe, expat life, Guiri Survival Tips, Guri Atope, international travel, la vida loca, Language Assistants Program, languages, moving abroad, Seville, Spain ·

How to Survive The Foreigner’s Office

July 5, 2011 by · 14 Comments

Author’s Note: This post seemed fitting today, considering my first experience with the dreaded papeleo started on July 3rd, 2007, when I applied for my student visa to come to Spain. Likewise, I just picked up my five-year residence card on Friday.

On my first trip to Sevilla, six years ago nearly to the day, I was breathless at the site of the half-moon, colonnaded Plaza de España, nestled just out of the historic center and at the helm of the plush María Luisa Park. The Triana tiles gleamed in the early July sunlight as I sat writing on a bench in the mural depicting Valladolid, a city I had just moved away from. I brought my travel partner, Catherine, the very next day. While not as bowled over as I, she did know that it was the fictional Planet Naboo of Star Wars fame.

Two years in the future, I was applying for a visa at the Chicago consulate. The deal was that Spain put a shiny visa on an entire page of my passport in exchange for 90 days in the land of toros and tapas. From there, I would need to go to local police and present a mountain of paperwork claiming I had a salary and health insurance. Seemed easy to present a few pieces of paper and stand in line.

Think again – what ensued has been a very ugly battle between me and the central immigration offices of Andalucía, a little bit of trickery (ok, flat-out lying) and finally securing a five-year residency card after thirteen months of appointments, photocopies and a lawyer.

Estés dónde estés, here’s a few tips to make your trip to Extranjeros a little more smooth:

Brush up on your vocabulary
The people who work in the oficina de extranjeros are called funcionarios. Spain, like Italy, has a high number of civil servants, and those Spaniards wishing to have job security and work short hours take an exam called an oposición to be able to be one. If selected, they are entitled to have breakfast at the precise hour you arrive to the front of the line. You’ll need to turn in all your papeleo, paperwork, to these people, so follow the advice below, too.

At the office, you’ll need to queue up and get a ticket. When your letter and number is called, you turn in your documents and receive a snobby-ass look and the word that you’ll come back for your fingerprints – your huellas, in addition to paying a tax and presenting two or three recent photos. Note that in Spain, these foto carne are much smaller than their American counterparts. After that appointment, you’ll have to wait 45 days to pick up your plastic card, and chat up a security guard to let you cut. I learned that two prorrogas in.

Know what you need to bring, and bring photocopies
Tres fotos carné? Form EX-##? Best to do your research, as every official act performed in the office has a different set of requisites. For pareja de hecho, for example, I had to present a certificate stating I wasn’t already married, signed and stamped by an official US Notary. Not necessary for an extension on your student visa. Speak to your consulate or embassy, download the forms to turn in here, ask about tasas, or fees, and bring a few small pictures. That said, made at least two photocopies of each document and have anything notarized if it’s a copy to turn in. Believe me, this will save you headaches, as this woman can tell you. Got a stapler? Toss that in your bag, just in case.

Dress appropriately, and bring a Spaniard along if you can
Showing up and looking nice can really make a difference, especially here in Sevilla, where appearances are everything. I have been in a skirt when everyone else is in flipflops and board shorts, but am generally greeted with a smile and a willing attitude.

Likewise for bringing a Spanish friend. My dear amiga Kelly told me this as she was applying for a work visa last year. She swears that having her saint of a boyfriend along meant more efficiency and no Sevillana stink face. If you’ve got a willing friend, invite them to a coffee in exchange for a few hours of quality time with you (And by quality time I mean you pulling out your hair time).

Go at the right time
Officially, winter hours in the office are like a banker’s: 9-5. In the summer, don’t expect the office to be open past 2. I remember my first trip to the office in October of 2007, clutching a paper folder with all of my documents. I left my house barely at 6am, arriving to stand at the end of a very, very long queue. At 8am, you can get your number, but our dear friends the fucnionarios won’t roll in until after 9. For this reason, I tend to show up either right at 9am, or after everyone has had their breakfast rotation at 11.30. It’s also advisable to go after 1 p.m., as the wait times are generally shorter. Note that some tasks have only a certain number of tickets assigned each day, so if you’re merely renewing a student visa, go whenever te da la gana. If it’s something like asking for your marriage book, the earlier, the better.

Be patient
Chances are you’ll be sent to multiple offices, to numerous people. The rules for every type of trámite are complex and must be followed precisely. Use message boards, other expats from your countries and the consulate to be as prepared as possible before you go, and realize there will be lines to wait in, documents missing, frustrations to be had. But, really, it all works out. I waited thirteen months to be able to hold a little red card in my hand, and now don’t have to go back (barring a residence change) until February of 2016. A little patience goes a long way in Spain, especially in the foreigner’s office.


All you expats: Have any extranjería horror stories? Tips for making the process any degree less painful? Got enchufe somewhere? Tell me about it in the comments!

Filed Under: Andalucia, culture shock, democracy, expat, Featured, Guiri Survival Tips, Guri Atope, Language Assistants Program, living abroad, moving abroad, papaleo, typical Spanish · Tagged: , , ,

The Second Year

October 18, 2008 by · 1 Comment

A few days ago, I had a few (and by a few I really mean 9 or 10. YIKES) cañas with my friend Aubree from Iowa City. We saw each other very infrequently last year, but seem to have very similar experiences here in Spain.

The biggest? Things are super different the second time around.

When I came to Sevilla 13 months ago, I was nervous, but excited nervous. I didn’t know anyone or much about the city, but I knew the language and the customs and that you have to take a number to buy a train ticket. I was starting a new job in a new place with new people. It was as scary as it was exciting. Everything seemed fresh to me, and I loved spending hours walking around, taking pictures. This year, I haven’t been to one museum or any tourist attractions. As this city becomes more and more of my home, I’m finding I’m spending more time making it my home rather than treating it like a place I’m visiting for a few months. Thus, like Aubree says, I’m seeing some of the icky stuff too that was kind of glossed over last year. Things suddenly don’t seem as beautiful and I’m annoyed with things I once found endearing. That said, I can also appreciate more things because I’m not running around trying to do everything. I walked on a different side of Pages del Coro and looked up at the buildings. One of them has tiles halfway up, which I never craned my neck to see before.

Actually, things aren’t working out the way I wanted or expected them to. I thought that coming here another year to an apartment, a job and a set group of friends would mean I’d jump right back in like I hadn’t even been away. It started with the huge phone bill and the hits just keep coming. One of my friends even said, “You can’t catch a break, can you?!” First off, with Kike gone, I haven’t seen many of his friends (besides his adorable little brother) and most of them are super heavily involved in their relationships. I’ve been making friends with new auxiliares, but I miss being able to speak Spanish and feel like I’m always surrounded by study abroad students. And I don’t feel like I have a really close female friend here anymore, either.

I’ve put a lot of pressure on myself at school since I’m the only auxiliar. This led to a crying breakdown on Wednesday in music class when the kids were acting up. What the hell am I doing teaching music? I´m clearly not qualified, made evident when the kids ask, “Cat, what means enharmonics?” and I say, “We´ll talk about it next week…” They complained about having to do the class in English, so I told them if they wanted to drop out of the bilingual program, they should tell Nieves right away. The teacher who was in the classroom with me mostly for crowd control completely ignored us and didn’t help me, even after I started crying. The teachers who I ride home with on Wednesday afternoon could tell I was upset, so they called my director right away. The kids told Nieves what happened the next morning before I even came to work and told her they felt awful (good). She took me out for coffee and breakfast as soon as I came in, and told me not to go to Serafin’s class. She assured be that I was well-respected and appreciated at the school, and that I shouldn´t put so much pressure on myself. Many of the other teachers had a talk with the bilingual kids, too, which is why nearly all of them apologized to me individually in art class that afternoon. I was happy for the weekend to clear my head and focus on other things.

Kike tells me I have to grow up and be a big girl. Rather than letting things slide, I’ve been letting people know I have a problem. I don’t want to be ungrateful at work, since most people are willing to accommodate me, so I´ve had to stand up for myself. I´m being proactive instead of unhappy. I told Nieves I want to be as flexible as possible, but I won´t compromise my well-being in the school or take on more than I can handle. I also quit my second job at the language academy. As it turns out, they were paying me 3E less an hour and would randomly stick students in the class. I ended up being so stressed out last week, my heart was beating really fast and my chest felt all tense and I thought I was going to pass out. I told the boss, Juanjo, about what happened and how I felt that I was working too hard for the students to not even show up. Turns out they pay per hour, not monthly, so they come whenever they feel like it. And then, they’d tell me I’d have to stay for a class with no prep! So, I´ve been telling my friends that I’m looking for language classes, and gave three hours of class last week. There’s a high demand for tutors, thankfully!

Sad news: my cuñado (brother in law) Alejandro, Kike´s 19 year old brother, is moving to London today. Ale and I have gotten really close since Kike´s been gone fighting pirates, and we´ve been hanging out a lot on the weekends. I had a bad day about a week ago, and he showed up at my house and we bought some pizza. He´s really a doll. On Friday, we had a party for him, and he bought me a t-shirt that says, “Pon un Montero en tu vida” or, Get a Montero in your life. He has an identical one! All of my friends are in lovvvvvvvvvve with him…

I’ve got class tomorrow then a day and a half to prepare for Florence! I’m leaving this Thursday night and surfing in Pisa, then heading to Florence and staying with an American woman who´s a study abroad coordinator there. Hopefully she can help me get a job here…

Besos!

Filed Under: Language Assistants Program, living abroad ·

La Vuelta al Cole

October 3, 2008 by · Leave a Comment

I woke up yesterday morning peeing in my pants, both from drinking a few beers before bed and from sheer excitement. It was finally October and I could finally go back to school in Olivares and start working.

I initially hesitated about returning to school before this date, mainly because I didn’t want to get attacked. I can get a little awkward with my Spanish and with forgetting people’s names (hello, we have 85 teachers in my center) and not even being a teacher. Moreover, I knew the kids would ask me about my dog and my boyfriend and my summer and, honestly, I wasn’t ready for it.

I sat on bus M-270 with a student from Valencina to Olivares, passing the same things I used to stare at four mornings and four afternoons a week. Nothing has really changed about the campo, which is actually refreshing. Even though Olivares is close to Sevilla (just about 10 miles west of the city), it seems a million worlds away. I remember bringing in postcards as a writing activity and having my students tell me most of them had never been out of Andalucia! Many of them only go to school until age 16, then drop out of school to become farmers, plumbers, bricklayers or gardeners. Their parents see no practical use for English, so many of them just tune out in class.

As soon as I walked in the door with Alejandro, I thought I was going to pee again. I was immediately welcomed by the Consejeria staff, which make the photocopies and dole out pieces of chalk. Emilio was poking fun at me as always and Meleni hugged me really tight, as she usually did on Thursday afternoons when I left last year. I snuck into the teacher’s lounge before any students could see me. I was greeted with lots of kisses and questions about Kike, of course! I have to say, I really felt like they consider me a colleague, not just some American kid who dicks around in class for 12 hours every week. Last year, I was twice as young as the other auxiliar, meaning I got on with the kids well, but didn’t relate to the teachers like Martin did.

But this year, I’m the only auxiliar. Nieves learned late last week that the other girl would not be coming to Heliche, so she called me to tell me she’d need to change my schedule. She didn’t want to make too many changes, so she was able to keep me working just three days a week (Monday, Wednesday and Thursday). She also put me in classes with the best-behaved kids who would benefit most from having a language assistant. I offered to go half the period or alternate weeks to accommodate more classes, but we’ll see. I’ll be teaching the bilingual group of kids, who receive 40% of their coursework in English, in their language classes, one hour of music and two of art each week. Then, I’ll be in English classes for 6 hours and have an hour for conversation and one for planning. Doesn’t sound too bad, but I’ll be the only music teacher. I won’t have to give grades other than participation and use of English.

I wished we had another person to help cover the classes, mainly because my director works so hard. She;s put in a lot of time to making the bilingual program successful and has had a lot of disappointment in just one month. Emilio, the music teacher, has left to finish his masters (leaving me with his lesson plans! YIKES me alone with 12 year olds!). Carmen, the history teacher, didn’t pass her English exam and cannot teach in the program until next year (which gives me incentive to stay again!) and now we have one less assistant. She can’t comply to everyone who wants to have one-on-one conversation hour, or even to kids who have asked if I can cover a class. It was hard seeing them and having to tell them I wasn’t teaching their class.

There are two new teachers in the English department, both younger males. This is better for poor Miguel, who was the only one last year, save Martin. One is new to Sevilla, and I hope I can help him meet people because he’s really nice. I greatly missed Angela and Silvia, the two young teachers from last year, because it seems like there isn’t a single young teacher in the school this year! Regardless, Neme was ready to give me advice about Kike and Lucia told me to get oil and not butter with my tostada. Everyone had the same things to say: You’re skinnier and your Spanish is better. Because Spanish people are so blunt, I figured they were telling the truth!

We’ll see how it all goes. Nieves is really open to my suggestions, and I feel like they trust me. It’s so comforting to feel like I belong somewhere and that people appreciate the work I’m doing. I don’t know how much the kids learn, but da igual. They’re getting exposure to a native and learning that not all Americans have guns!

Filed Under: Auxiliar Program, Auxiliares Norteamericanos, IES Heliche, Language Assistants Program, teaching ·

Little Victories

November 9, 2007 by · 1 Comment
When you’re a TEFL teacher, or even just a language assistant in my case, you come to learn that the little things make your job really worthwhile. And in a place like Olivares, where a survey to poll favorite classes ends up failing because the kids don’t like school or see its importance, this is especially true.
Yesterday, I had two classes of 4ESO to teach. Both classes were working on past simple irregular. I was so excited to (cheat and) find a great song with a ton of examples of past simple irregulars like “found” and “woke” and “was” to use. The song is an old favorite of mine, Pearl Jam’s “Last Kiss” as it reminds me of my first boyfriend, Nick Pohl. I downloaded the song, put it onto a blank CD, copied the lyrics into Word, blanked out the irregular past simple verbs and came up with some warm up activities. I was ready to face one of the tougher groups – the young groups don’t behave, the older groups don’t participate, and 4ESO doesn’t behave OR participate.
The activity went like this: In class, I asked the students if they like American music. They all screamed, “YES! YES TEACHER!” I figured as such, as most music on 40 principales is American pop. I then asked what American singers or groups they liked. Most came up with Rihanna, Beyonce and Justin Timberlake. “Good,” I said, “all good examples.” I wrote the name of the band on the chalkboard and asked if anyone knew them. They didn’t, so I told them they ere a very famous group from the 1990s, then played the song. In the cloze activity, students were to listen to the song once through to get used to it, then listen a second and third time and try to come up with the words for the corresponding blanks. For example, “When I _____ (to wake) up, the raining was pouring down.” I then gave the students a little time to check their books or ask their classmates for help before we went over the song as a group and decided which verbs were irregular and why. I still had some time left over, and, being a super prepared teacher, I asked them reading comprehension questions. But something as simple as, “What happened to the girl?” Are too much. I need to break down the question into, “How many people are in the song?” and “Where are they?” for the students to begin to understand that there is a car accident. Since this group of 4ESOC is a bit more advanced, we even got to talk about driving safety, since they are about 16 or 17.
In 4ESOB, we didn’t get quite that far. I’ve found that if things are a bit off from a rule or exception, there are a million questions. Most of the time, I don’t have the answer. And when I asked what happened to the girl, it took me 5 minutes to solicit an answer of “She died.” I got everything from “Ella le dio luz a un bebe” (She gave birth) to “He killed the man in the other car” before Silvia stepped in to help. I practically rejoiced when the students understood.
When I only get one hour every other week with students, it’s really hard to measure their progress. But my job here isn’t to produce fluent little students – it’s merely to help teachers establish a curriculum and to practice their English. I’m fortunate to have 7 hours in the classroom actually working with students. And I love that they ask when I’m coming or come up to me and say one simple sentence and run away giggling. It’s fun. In some ways, I wish I could just travel and pick up odd jobs and meet new people every day (which is why traveling alone is so freaking fun). Here in Sevilla, I’ve got a contract and I’ve got to start a life and worry about making rent and keeping up with friends when it costs 53 cents a minute to call. But I like the stability and I like being established. In fact, I got an internship with We Love Spain, a student involvement group, and my pet projects will be talking to volunteer orgs and setting students up with opportunities to get involved while they’re here (can we say, my thing exactly?). I think it will also give me the chance to meet new people, even if they’re only here for a little while like Jost.
For the December puente, I’m off to Brussels, Belgium for a weekend because I found 4 tickets, roundtrip, for 106 euro TOTAL. For four of us. I love Ryan Air. Maybe one day I’ll be rich enough to buy every airline and provide low-cost tickets to everyone to any destination because this world is too big to only see part of it. For now, I’m just fine wandering.
And now, I leave you all (in particular Matt Kyhnn) with a picture of a swan from Galway as big as a smartcar. Un abrazo.
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Filed Under: Auxiliar Program, Auxiliares Norteamericanos, Language Assistants Program, teach abroad, TEFL ·
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