Castillo de Alhabar

Cambil

Wednesday, October 20th was our first trip to Cambil, a tiny town of only 3,000 people nested between the mountains. We hopped on a bus at noon and enjoyed the half an hour ride, as it was accompanied by a scenic view the whole way, through hills and mountains dotted with olive trees. Jaén and the surrounding areas are known for their olive groves and olive oil. They are jam-packed with green olives which are comparable in shape and size to the black kalamata olives from Greece. I have been eating them like crazy and even bought a two liter bottle of them at the grocery store the other day. Who knew olives could be so tasty?! They are worlds apart from the canned olives they sell in Minnesota. It has been interesting ingesting so many olives and so much olive oil-- Amy, Holly and I have noticed the increased grease in our skin and hair since arriving, gross!

Castillo de Alhabar

When we arrived to Cambil we walked into the school, Castillo de Alhabar, not knowing exactly where to go or who to talk to. We ended up finding a classroom of little kids and a teacher who attempted to speak English to us as she lead us to the principal’s office. It seemed as though everyone was expecting us and we were warmly welcomed by all the teachers and staff. The school is right in the “center” of Cambil and consists of a bunch of little buildings within a fenced area. Each building is for a certain grade. There is also an outdoor basketball court where they have gym class and recess. Holly is working with elementary school students, from pre-school age (3 years) to sixth grade. I am working with middle school students between the ages of 13-15. I will be working only Tuesdays and Wednesdays with a number of different classes, both English and Natural Science, all at different levels in English. Spaniards are known for their poor English skills, and I can now see where the problem begins. Spanish people who teach English do not seem to speak English all that well. They teach children the correct grammar, but with a very heavy Spanish accent. The first day I sat in on class, there were things the teacher said in English that I could not understand. It is kind of funny… the kids can understand their Spanish English teacher, but not me. It seems like Spain needs to be importing more native English language teachers. Because Holly and I only work 12 hours a week, and we get only one hour a week with each class, it is not like we will be having a huge impact on these kids English language skills. We’ll see, though.

Off I am again on yet another adventure...

Hello friends and family!

Here’s the story of how I got to where I am now…
Last April I applied to be a “Language and Culture Assistant” through the Spanish Ministry of Education. To my dismay, I was waitlisted and told I would be contacted if they found a placement for me. So passed May, June, July, August and half of September when I received an email from the program asking me if I was willing to up and move to Spain ASAP. So, sure, why not?! I accepted the position and would soon be living and working in Jaén, Spain. I arrived to Jaén the evening of Thursday October 15th after waaay too many hours of travel. It all started with my late check-in at the Minneapolis airport, which caused me to miss my first flight out. After some frustrated tears and phone calls with my dad, I successfully flew to Chicago, Atlanta and Madrid without any problems. After a good five hour layover in Madrid I took a four hour train ride to Jaén. There waiting for me my two fellow American English teachers, Holly and Amy. Holly and I will be teaching assistants at the same school is a small town outside of Jaén called Cambil. Amy arrived early October and is all settled in and is already teaching. We are staying with her until we find our own place.

Center of Jaén

I was extremely motivated to get to Jaén by Thursday because of the “Feria San Lucas,” the biggest party and festival of the year. There is a carnival with rides and food, bull fighting, and lots and lots of partying. Before I continue this story, let’s begin with

VOCABULARY LESSON 1: Party Terms

Botellón- A street/park party. Groups of friends bring a bottle of booze, liters of pop, ice and plastic cups, and make "cubatas" in the streets. Deemed illegal a few years ago... doesn’t matter.
Caña- A “short” beer, ridiculously small, approximately one cup of beer. Literally one cup.
Caseta- Oversized white tents at the fair which house either discotecas, bars, or food stands.
Chupito- Shot
Cubata- Mixed drink
Discoteca- Dance club and bar
Feria- A city’s fair. Usually celebrates a city’s patron saint. Celebrated with carnival, parades, dancing, drinking.
Torero- Bullfighter
Tubo- A “tall” beer, still pretty small, approximately two cups of beer.

Friday night we went to botellón. We got a bottle of vodka, some heavily carbonated pop called “kas,” ice and cups and headed to the park at midnight with some Spanish people Amy previously met. Around 3am we went to the feria, where we proceeded to walk around to different casetas for food and dancing. We ended up home around 8am.

Saturday at 11am we awoke for grand apartment search number one. We zombied around town for a few hours and then slept the rest of the day away. What should have been night number two at the feria turned into watching “He’s Just Not That Into You” on my laptop instead. That’s OK, sleep was much needed.

Sunday was a very Spanish experience, as I attended my first bullfight with Holly. Every bullfight consists of six bulls, divided between three "toreros." The first kill was extremely difficult to watch-- I got a bit nauseous and upset, almost considered leaving after the first one. The Spaniards around us seemed almost more entertained by our reactions to the fight than to the fight itself. The man next to us knew all the rules and the techniques to bullfighting, and talked us through the remaining fights. By the end, instead of it appearing to be a ruthless bull killing- it started to look like a sport… which is kind of crazy considering I have always thought of bullfighting as a disgusting tradition that should be long over by now. We will see how much farther down generations the tradition will pass.

We have been apartment searching since. Because of this, every day of the week blurs between long spells of walking, eating, and debating apartment options with the aid of numerous napkin pro-con lists. We finally picked an apartment today. Holly and I will be living with a random Peruvian student in the center of Jaén, a pretty large apartment with a great location. The apartment faces winding pedestrian made of a burnt orange marble. Our lobby is lined with mosaics, the balcony overlooks the backstreets and the three bedrooms are accompanied by two bathrooms, a large living room, and a makeshift patio in the middle of the building.

And the adventure has just begun…