THE Crisis

Here in Spain they refer to the economic recession as "la crisis," or "the crisis."

It's a big f-ing crisis. And it just keeps getting worse.

When I graduated from college in 2009, I was told I was a part of the most unlucky graduating class ever. Job openings had never been less open, and the recession was in full force. I was lucky enough to "get out" of the states and end up in Spain, teaching English, where "the crisis" was present, but at least I had a job. Everyone at home was talking about how they couldn't find jobs, how they were all disgracefully living with their parents and how they could see no money-light at the end of the tunnel except for AmeriCore and Starbucks. The daily conversation was the downfall of the economy and how it was all going to the crapper.

Here we are, in 2012, and all those same friends who were jobless and living at home are now working and independent. No one talks about how bad the economy is and things are looking much more up than down. Everyone knows the housing market will take a while to get back on its feet, but at least people are working. And people are buying houses!

Here in Spain, every day things get worse. And the recently elected president doesn't seem to be helping much. The new administration has made it easier for a company to lay you off, has cut civil servant pay a lot (I'm keeping it simple) and has just increased VAT (value added tax) to 21%. National unemployment is hoovering around 25%. Every single day I take part in at least three conversations about how bad things are right now. Just about everyone I know is unemployed or holding onto their jobs with dear life.

Pelayo owns a bar here called "Rocket Rock Club," an American rock n' roll style joint that has quite a following here. It's unique in the sense that it plays good music and is decorated in it's own special way (complete with a MN license plate of course). I can't really explain how bad things have gotten here except by example. When I started working at Rocket in March of 2011, there were six bartenders working on a Saturday night from midnight to 6am. We would be running up and down the bar making drinks and tapping beers all night long. A number of times in the night we'd run out of glasses and have to open new boxes of them to re-stock the shelves. Five hours would pass without even a second to look at your watch to see the time. Around 5am, someone would announce that it was almost closing time. Cut off is at 5:30am, and we were outta there by 6. Now, a year and a bit later, on a Saturday night there are three bartenders, four when we hope it will be a busy night. I now wear a long sleeve shirt to work because I know I most likely won't work up a sweat. The six hours til closing won't pass. Ever. Nights are eternal. Boring. Empty. On average we sell 30-40% less than we did last year. And the worst part is that Rocket bar is known for being successful in comparison to other bars in town. It still has a following and still has some patrons during the weekend. So, I can only imagine how bad it is for our liquor-vending neighbors.

So, you walk around Oviedo on a Saturday night two years ago. It's packed. Full of ambiance and life. Everyone's drunk and having a gay old time. Bars are packed- all of them... even the crappy ones. You walk around Oviedo on a Saturday night now and the streets are more than half empty, along with all the bars and restaurants. No one goes out to dinner anymore, and going out for a drink frequently involves four friends sharing a bottle of the cheapest beer on the menu.

The downside is the prices won't drop. Bars can't drop prices because beer, liquor, rent and electricity prices just keep going up. But, bars also can't raise prices to compensate for rising costs because it will lose patrons.

So, a couple of times a month a bar or restaurant or family-owned business closes. Even big-time businesses close. And as you see this happening all around, and all you hear on the street is whispers about "the crisis" and how there's no money to do anything anymore... you get sad. Real sad. Because the ambiance here is full of fear. It's scary. It feels like something has to be on the brink of changing. Something drastic. I can't fathom what it may be, but I do think something radical has got to happen, because people here are no longer the happy-go-lucky Spaniards who are always out and about having a coffee or a beer, celebrating at all hours of the morning with no shame and simply enjoying themselves.

The American way is "live to work." The Spanish way has always been "work to live." And so, here we are. In the country where there is no work to be able to live freely and carelessly as they always did. And here I am, living in a country that is completely fucked economically and watching it all fall apart, piece by piece. Is there hope? I can say that last year there was a lot of hope that it couldn't get worse- that a change in president and policy could give a new jump-start to this country. But, here we are, starting a new school year in September 2012 and watching how it is, to everyone's fear, getting worse.

And I have to say it's a bit surreal, and a bit scary. And I'm quite anxious to see what happens next. All I can say is that it's times like these that I'm happy to have an American passport.

Yes, more about littering

So, I hate to be a nagging brat about the whole littering thing, but the story continues. Hard to believe? Well, yes, it does.

I decided to take some advice from a comment an anonymous reader made on my first blog entry about littering ("The Joys of Littering") in which he/she stated that I should bring up the topic with my students and see what they had to say about it. Finding it quite a neat idea, I decided to do it. I took advantage of some extra free time in my classes yesterday after wrapping up a discussion about the American tradition of Arbor Day and the importance of trees in our every day lives...

I casually started off with a story, precisely the story I told you all about my brother's encounter with the strange sensation of littering in Spain, something he normally doesn't do in Minnesota. (You can read the full story in my entry "The Joys of Littering.") Upon finishing up the story I asked the provocative question which was "What's the difference between a twenty year old boy from Minnesota and a twenty year old boy from Spain in this situation?"

Their, surprisingly proud, response? "The Minnesotan boy cares about the environment more than the Spanish boy."

And so the conversation continued.

"Do you litter?" ... "Yes."
"Do you think it's okay?" ... "Yes."
"Do you think littering is a problem in Spain?" ... "No."

"Why do you think it's okay!?" The list of excuses was endless...
-Because the government pays people to clean the streets. If we throw away our garbage they will lose their jobs. (This was the most common thing that they said.)
-Because there are never any trash bins nearby. (An addition from two or three students: If I am on one side of the street with my friends and the bin is on the other side of the street, I am not going to cross the street to throw it away because then my friends will leave and I will have to chase them.)
-Because it's easier.
-Because the street is not my home. I don't have to take care of it.

I was shocked and awed. These comments came from THREE different groups of students aged 11 to 13. In every class, of course, there were a couple of the typical students who are always nice and thoughtful and smart who said they don't litter and think that it's very bad to litter- but the overwhelming response was listed above. They literally argued with me against cleaning up after themselves. And so, I found the problem. These kids have never been educated, neither by their parents nor by the education system, to take care of their town and of their planet.

I have decided on a punishment/lesson for the kids. Near to the school there is a huge field, a typical field that all the kids cross every single day to walk to school, and that is, of course, filled with garbage. (When I told them the street cleaners didn't clean their field, and what would happen to that field being full of garbage for so long, their response was, "It's not a big deal, the plastic will decompose and it won't harm anyone.") I have decided that although Earth Day has passed, we are going to have a belated Earth Day in which we will clean up the field... I don't know if schools are into that here, but I've already spoken with the head English teacher and next up is the headmaster. These kids are going to learn how to pick up garbage... even if it is from their American TA.

And then I'm going to show them this video... just to give them an extra dose of what I like to call "responsibility!"

The Proof of Littering

After posting my thoughts in "The Joys of Littering," I got a few negative responses from natives of Oviedo. They claimed I was being unfair and that I made Spaniards sound like a bunch of pigs living in a rotten pigsty... when I asked them simply, "Did I lie? Did I make something up?" They couldn't tell me otherwise... So I thought that I needed a bit of proof about the real problem of littering in this country.

A couple of weeks ago my mom was here for a week-long visit. I am pretty sure she didn't read my littering entry before her arrival... One day when I was at work and she was left wandering around Oviedo during the day, she ended up taking pictures of the garbage people left behind in a park.

She in fact felt so sickened by it all she had to leave the park and opt to spend her time shopping- the sight of ruined green public spaces was too much...A group of people were sitting around eating McDonald's in the park and just got up and left everything in it's place... then we all wonder why it's prohibited to sit on the grass in this park!

Ah, there's nothing like Pre-Roman architecture surrounded by garbage... Please take note that all of the pictures posted in today's post were taken within a span of a week.

And the last shot of the week, the what could have been more beautiful beach in the Gros neighborhood of San Sebastian, Spain. This sight actually spanned the entire beach line, and I have never seen anything quite like it...

The Joys of Littering

My time spent living abroad has been full of all kinds of culture shock, enlightening experiences, linguistic challenges and interesting observations in lifestyle differences... including littering, of course.

The second time I lived in Spain I was in Jaén, in the south of Spain.  Jaén's streets were pretty much a trash bin. Well, not only a trash bin, but a doggie toilet, too. You couldn't walk without fixing your point of view downwards. If you got distracted by some window display or hottie walking past and strayed your concentration for a second, your shoe was usually covered in dog-doo by the time you got back to looking at the concrete again. I will never, ever (can I specify that I will never) forget a time when I saw a couple of girls, around my age, walking down the street with a bag of chips. (I think they were ketchup flavored. Yuck.) As one of them emptied the bag and licked her fingers in satisfaction, she simply dropped the bag. Dropped it. It slowly drifted down onto the sidewalk... and the girl never looked back to see where it landed. Not even a glimpse of shame or guilt appeared in her face. She just kept on walking. Three years later, I can still remember exactly how it all went down- and it still baffles me to this day.

I now live on the opposite end of the country in Oviedo, and it's is a few steps ahead of Jaén in poopy terms. Here you don't have to look down while you walk, which is quite convenient if I do say so myself. You can look in absolutely any direction you want (only if your umbrella isn't blocking your view, that is). Owners proudly pick up their dogs shit... it's great. I have yet to see anyone blatantly drop garbage onto their city's streets during daylight hours. Now, all of this changes if you have to pee. Ahh, yes. There is nothing like seeing parents train their kids to pee in public. I have to say I'm not proud to find myself entertained by a mother turning herself into a human toilet. Lets see if I can explain this strange situation... mom picks up her daughter under her knees, puts her back to her belly, making her little one look like she's hanging through a basketball hoop that is her mother's arms. And, the effect is her pee shooting out directly in front of them. On a street corner. In broad daylight. All the time.  And of course boys just whip it out and go anywhere. Forget the whole, "Shut up and HOLD IT!" thing. Here, if you've gotta go, you've gotta go, and it doesn't quite matter where.

Unfortunately, this phenomenon isn't only limited to children... Surprise, surprise, what you learn as a child tends to cross over into adulthood... There is nothing like seeing the streets of the Old Quarter flowing with rivers of piss on the weekends. One street in particular stinks so bad you can't breathe and walk by at the same time. It's as if bathrooms don't exist, and any corner turns into a public bathroom.

Piss aside, the Old Quarter, during warmer and less rainier seasons, turns into a garbage bin on the weekends. Botellón, bringing your own bottles of alcohol and pop to drink in the street with your friends, ruins the image of the most beautiful part of this city every weekend it's even a little nice out... At 6am it looks like a tornado passed directly through a bar and spit all the garbage and broken glass all over the main streets of the city. It's absolutely disgusting, to say the least. I am the first to admit that I used to love botellón. I participated freely and happily when living in Jaén. It was cheaper, and, in the end, more fun than going into any bar. But that doesn´t mean it's nice to see so much shit lying around the city. And that doesn´t mean that it´s a Spanish habit that maybe needs to change. All I know is that Woody Allen might take back his famous quote about this city if he saw the garbage and piss filled streets on any given Saturday night. 

                                                                                                                                                                   

In the words of Woody, 
"A delicious, exotic, beautiful, clean, pleasant, tranquil and pedestrianised city. 

It is as if it didn't belong to this world. Oviedo is like a fairy tale."

Woody is a huge supporter of Oviedo, he's got a statue of himself in the center of the city and even turns up in tourism ads for Asturias. One of his favorite things about this city is it's cleanliness. But, Woody's not the only one who has been dooped into believe that Oviedo is a pristine, sparkling city. Oviedo is actually known as being one of the cleanest cities in Spain and even won a prize for being the cleanest city in Europe not too long ago. How do they trick everyone into believing it? They clean the streets 24/7. People in orange jump suits walk the streets all day with a portable garbage can and a broom in hand- sweeping away. Huge cleaning car machines, which I still don't understand how they work, circulate the streets a million times a day. You drop a cigarette butt? Don't worry, in 2.5 seconds someone else has already cleaned up after you. Like to drink in the streets at night, throwing your garbage around and breaking bottles? Don't worry, the government will spend it's excess amounts of money to clean up after you on Sunday morning. Want to eat lunch on the beach during the summer and leave all your garbage behind? Unfortunately, no one cleans up the beaches here... but since you're used to people picking up your garbage all the time, you don't realize you're ruining your own beaches... It's like there's a little piece of social cleanliness and responsibility missing here...

                                                                                                                                                                   

When my parents and brother came to visit last summer, we had a couple of interesting encounters with the phenomenons that are littering and peeing. One Saturday my brother and I went to a beach party in Salinas, a village about half an hour from Gijon, where I was living at the time. We were walking around, drinking and watching a concert that was going on. Phil, with an empty beer in hand, looked at me innocently and asked, "Umm... where should I throw this away? I don't see any garbage bins." He turned his head one way and another to search for a trash bin, only to realize that there was junk all over the sidewalks and cluttering the streets. "Wait, can I really throw this on the ground?" He asked innocently. "Well, yep. It's normal here." He dramatically dropped his jaw, stuck his arm out in front of him, and slowly let his fingers relax as he watched the beer can drop to the floor in awe. "That felt so weird," he claimed. 

On a different weekend night, we were out and about, walking around, the four of us. My dad commented in disgust about the pee filled streets... "How can Spain expect their economy to function well if their own people pee on their own city and their own country? There's no respect." 

Hmm, the wise has spoken... Solution? Is there one? I think that if the government stopped cleaning up after botellón on the weekends people just might stop. Or a civil war might break out. Both are completely possible outcomes. As for everyone being accustomed to littering? All you have to do is start sending out a fine or two for littering and, and that just might help with the problem, too. All I know is man, it´s a shame to smell so much piss all the time. 

Just a few traveling tales

La isla de Lobos

The last month or so has been full of travels and adventures. I took an amazingly sunny and beach-filled long weekend to Fuerteventura in the Canary Islands with Pelayo (due to my mother you should all know who he is by now), my parents and aunties paid me a visit and we trekked all over Northern Spain, and a German girl I met traveling three years ago in Scotland also came to check out Asturias for a few days.

The Canary Islands are always a surprise... all proceeding from volcanic eruptions, the terrain is rocky, dark, hilly, flat and sandy all at the same time. The islands are always invaded with sun-crisped English tourists (sun-burnt doesn't begin to cover the degree of skin damage acquired here by the funny-accented whiteys)... but with a five minute drive outside of the resort and karaoke bar strip you discover paradise that can only be described as volcano-licious.

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Familia!

And then I was lucky enough to have my parents and my aunties visit for a little over a week. Before I begin to hammer out what was our week of sight-seeing, I have to explain the meaning and importance of our family version of "the good book." On all of our family trips that add up to more than two people, someone from the fam goes to the highly useful public library (do you sometimes also forget that public libraries exist?) and lends/borrows (yes I'm an English teacher but still don't remember the different between these two words) the up and coming Rick Steve's book. On our trips, we follow this book as if we were jesus freaks following the bible. We walk, sit, eat, drink and enjoy things wherever the book tells us we have to. Why? Rick Steve is witty. Aaand somehow, he and his crew or writers find extremely interesting things about the city that the whole family can enjoy. Do I sound like a commercial? Yes. But why is this so important? When you travel in big groups the hardest thing is making a damn decision. If you just follow the good book, the trip ends up being enjoyable... but most importantly thought and fight-free.

"This is a reading by Charlie from the good book..."

During their time here, we I drove over 1,000 miles and sight-saw the shit outta Northern Spain. In the past we've always ended up with fun-sized European clown cars and suffered through our long drives... but lessons were learned and this time around the car was actually big enough for five people and five pieces of luggage. We also didn't go anywhere without a handy GPS, which was un-handily only in Spanish. So, not only did I spend the week translating in restaurants, shops, and any public place imaginable... I also spent the week saying "take a right, take a left, go through the rotunda and..."

Aaaalmost pouring cider

Their first days in Asturias were spent drinking cider in Gijon, over-eating in Oviedo and fighting the rain in Aviles. After a full evening of attempting to follow the GPS, we arrived in cloudy Santiago de Compostela and stayed put for a couple of days. Rainy mornings brought sunny afternoons and lots of photo taking with my dad's new camera.

Santiago de Compostela

Santiago is a unique place that attracts people from all over the world, not just simply for being a mysterious, ancient town, but for the famous Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage to the tomb of St. James (obviously housed in this rockin' church). For more than 1,000 years, pilgrims have been walking to Santiago from wherever in Europe for whatever reason. They used to arrive smelly and sick, but now arrive with modern backpacks, cameras, and many new friends. No longer just a religious tradition, people will do the walk just to do it and say it was done! En fin, enchanted by pilgrim's tales, the cathedral's history, and our 3-star hotel for the price of a 2... we all fell in love with this city.

(Just last night I met an Asturian guy who swears that this Catholic pilgrimage was originally not a religious tradition at all, but in fact a pre-Catholic, Roman tradition as a walk to the "end of the world." Before the continent of America was found by Columbus, Spain and Portugal were nicknamed as the end of the world. Europeans believed that if they kept sailing past the Iberian Peninsula, they'd simply fall off the end of the world. Lets shout a HOORAY to the catholic church for, over and over again, changing history to suit them!)

Next on our tour of the green coast was a night in Ribadeo, a town bordering the states of Galicia and Asturias. A morning trip to the market to buy home-made cheese, ham, chorizo and freshly baked bread worked out perfectly for our rocky beach side picnic later in the day.

Our last stop while touring the green coast was in breathtaking Cudillero. I had never heard anyone speak of Cudillero before, it was a random stop chosen from my free "Asturias" tourism book that ended up being one of the best of the whole trip. A teeny, tiny little pueblo literally built into a hill, Cudillero was a stronghold back in the middle ages, when it spent quite a while fighting off invaders from the sea. Now a tourist trap kinda place in summer, a walk around this town drops your jaw and stays stuck in your memory forever.

The fam checking out the Foreign Languages department

To wrap up our Northern tour, we had lunch at my school. My family got the chance to meet my (shhh) favorite group of students- they were working as waiters that day- and my students had the chance to do their jobs in English. We had some good laughs, as my dad screwed up the pronunciation of a dish we were eating... instead of saying "I love the pisto" he said "I love the pito" which is a slang word for penis. That served as a great lesson Monday morning with my students= Making mistakes is the best way to learn! And, the most embarrassing mistakes are the most important ones, because you'll never forget!

Our last moments as a group were spent wandering the streets in Madrid, eating over-priced food, and getting ripped off by numerous bartenders. The only disappointing thing about this trip was the negative treatment we received by Spanish employees in the tourist industry- whether restaurants, museums, hotels or simply walking down the street, we got kicked over and over again by the rude, ignorant people who treated us like walking money just for wearing tennis shoes and being American. It's quite unfortunate to say that in this sense, Spain lost a couple big points this trip.

The enchanting, tourist-infested city of Toledo was the very last stop for Auntie Chris, Cathy and I. We enjoyed our last rounds with "the good book" and walked around like zombies... completely exhausted from a week of walking, driving, eating and drinking, we enjoyed the city via a the typical double-decker, bright red tourist bus that is now available for your use in most major tourist cities across the world. But what can I say is, sometimes you have to give into your aching feet and simply enjoy the view.

And last but not least, a happy 60th to my auntie Cathy,

who came all the way to Spain to celebrate!

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Three years ago, when I was experiencing my very first months living abroad in Barcelona, I traveled to Scotland with my dear friend Andrew. On our Isle of Skye bus tour we met a sweet German girl named Maggie and ever since kept in touch via postcards and emails. This last December I met up with her in Berlin and in early April she came to see me in Asturias. She was only here for a few days but got to see the beach, mountains and sider (of course!). The more people I meet traveling and wandering around the world, the more I realize how crazy hard it is to keep in touch and to actually get to see those people again... It's a pretty sweet feeling when you actually manage to keep in touch with someone who lives half way across the world!

...hasta luego!!

Bagpipin' Asturians

Surprise, surprise. Did you know Asturian people are pretty much Irish?

Upon moving up North, I have noticed that most people are fair skinned with lighter eyes and hair. It is not common, yet not crazily un-common to see a blonde haired, blue eyed Asturian walking the streets. I even have a student that I figured was a foreign exchange student from Sweden. Turns out his name is Carlos...

It did not take too long to discover that Asturias has a Celtic past, and, well, present... I guess that would also mean it has a future, right?

Along with whitey skin, la gaita (the bagpipe), is a huge part of Asturian culture. Shit, there is even a sidra (cider) named El Gaitero (the bagpipe player). Forget "OLE" and flamenco, here it is all about the kilt.

On the streets today, I heard proof. As I walked home from running errands I heard a dad yell at his son:

• "No me toques la gaita!"
• Literal translation: Don't touch my bagpipe!!
• Meaning translation: Leave me alone!

And I walked home happily, laughing alone.

Check out this map of current Celtic nations... I hope you are just as surprised as I am... or am I the only one who did not know Celts ever left the greater Ireland/Scotland metro area?

UP WITH YER KILT

And then I didn't stop moving for a month (Pt. 1)

Oh, this is just in case you've forgotten what I look like. And to show off these amazing American peanuts marketed in a super-American way... decorated by none other than Ms. Statue of Liberty and the good ol' red, white n' blue. Yea!

(And on to the real reason I'm writing...)

Right after my "longest Thanksgiving ever," I jumped directly into one of my longest journeys ever. It started off with a nice road trip to a town only half an hour away from Gijon, with two hungover girls: Jenny the German and Christina the Canadian. I, for once, was not hungover! Victory!!

Llanes

We started off with a wander around a little old fisherman town called Llanes. We arrived at dusk but were still able to appreciate the view of sharp, pointy rocks popping out of the sandy beach, decorated by a backdrop of snow capped mountains. Oh, the north, how I love thee. A walk around town led us down some dark cobbled alleyways and into the portal of a crazy elderly lady's hotel, but we made it out just fine.

Picos de Europa- view from the top

Spending the night at a cheap, over-heated (better than under-heated?) hotel in a tiny pueblo kept us close to our next sight to see: we took off early to go to one of Asturias most important sites, Covadonga. Yes, it's just another convent buried in the mountains where another virgin supposedly came to yet another soldier telling him to fight in the name of god or something like that... but it was a cool site to see before heading up to the treacherous winds of "los lagos" at Picos de Europa. (Yes, I realize I just name dropped famous sites in Asturias. Los lagos= the lakes. Picos de Europa= a huge, beautiful national park in Asturias.)

The second lago

We drove up the skinniest "road" accompanied by an insane amount of cars going both up and down. Parking at the top, we hopped out of the car to realize that the winds were so strong we could barely stay standing. The combination of the wind with the un-plowed walking path (of course, who would clear sidewalks during the biggest tourist weekend of the year?) made for an interesting climb up. Well, the hassle and wet socks were worth it. The view of the lakes and the snowy mountains was, cheesily enough, breathtaking!

Roman bridge in Cangas de Onis

Next stop: Cangas de Onis. Turns out Cangas de Onis is one of the biggest tourist trap towns I have ever seen, but it's historical importance makes it a must-see anyways. It was in this town that the Spanish reconquest of Spain started. You see, from 711-1492 the Arabic people invaded and had control over almost all of Spain. It was in this town that the reconquest of the country started with a dude named Pelayo. (Funny thing is, it took the Arabs only 4 or 5 years to conquer all of Spain, whereas it took the Spanish from 718-1492 to get it back.)

A really old lion in a really old town.

It was then that spontaneity took over. I opened the guidebook and decided we should stop by the city of three lies: Santillana del Mar. Why the three lies? It's name itself screams deception. The city is not particularly holy (santi), flat (llana) or on the sea (mar). (Yes I stole that from Lonely Planet but I thought it was funny.) The pueblo was absolutely precious. Medieval to the max. We stayed in a medieval hotel with medieval walls, windows and heating system (aka, coooold). We wandered around in awe of the city and then visited the biggest local attraction: a REPLICA of the caves where the first drawings by man were discovered. Well, that was quite a waste of time as it was a plastic rock with chalk drawings and extremely inaccurate and deceiving videos to accompany the fake cave...

Santander pre-sunset

Then there was Santander. I swear everything in the North of Spain is precious. I just can't stop saying how beautiful it is, so I'll let the pictures attempt to do justice to our stroll and take-out Chino meal on the sea...

Santander post-sunset

A night and a day of wandering in Bilbao brought Jenny and I to our flight to Dusseldorf....

To be continued...

Orbayu

It's like a broken record, not that any of us still play records (except for you hipsters and oldies), but the point is that: ever since I had been placed to work in Gijon, all I heard was,

"It rains A LOT. But it's beautifully green."

My first thought process was also a broken record, Crap, it's going to rain all the time and I am going to feel depressed and miserable without sunlight for 8 months straight... It turns out that (surprise?) it does rain quite often, but, (better surprise!) the rain is an on and off again type of rain, and it's not a heavy rain, it tends towards a sprinkle or an orbayu, as they say in the local Asturian language/dialect (I don't want to get into that debate quite yet)... Orbayu is a special word in Asturiano that means something like a light mist or sprinkle. Now, it's important to note that, for example, when I woke up this morning it was raining snow. From my apartment I could hear the rain hitting the patio floor, but when I stepped outside and looked up towards the streetlamps (it's still dark here at 8am), I saw snow. But that same snow, upon touching the ground, transformed completely into rain. No sleet, no shitty, brown mess, just straight up rain. Using my Minnesnowtan knowledge, I took that to mean it was probably around 35 or 36 degrees... not cold enough to snow like it meant it, but not warm enough to simply rain. Anyway, by 10am it was sunny outside, and around noon it rained again. And back and forth rain and sun pendulum went.

I am finding this city to be quite charming and pleasant. I can say that I feel more comfortable here in the North of Spain than I did last year in the South. So far, I have deducted that this is normal because of the simple fact that I honestly believe that "the north" in countries all over the world have things in common, as do "the south." I also honestly believe this is simply due to the fact that the weather impacts your personality, lifestyle, habits, and ways of being in general. Why cold weather makes people more polite, modest, and kind? I don't know. I haven't figured that one out yet. I'm kidding... kinda. The north is just as precious as they told me it would be. Looooove it.

I must now address a topic I've been avoiding because I'm not quite sure how to explain it successfully, because more than a theory or a practice, what I am about to attempt to explain is an experience. So it may be true that Asturian people drink beer, wine and hard alcohol like all other normal people in the world... But Asturians have mastered the most socially entertaining and enjoyable yet sneakily dangerous form of drinking ever: SIDRA. Sidra translates into English as cider, but it has nothing to do with either the non-alcoholic OR the alcoholic version of cider in the US. Here in Asturias, they don't just pour sidra, lo escancian. Escanciar is a special verb used only to describe how sidra is poured. So, it goes a little like this: The waiter (or the drunk idiot on the street) holds the bottle of sider in his/her outstretched arm far over his/her head. The opposite hand is extended all the way down to the knee and holds a wide sidra glass. And, escanciar:

Next, the waiter passes the glass with a thick shot of sidra to the first person in the ordering group who makes eye contact or who reaches for it first. The next step is to CHUG. Note: Sidra is a flat drink and poured from waaay above the head aaaaall the way down to the knees to force some bubbly fizz out of it. Sidra tastes pretty damn convincing if it's bubbly but if it's flat... mmmmm... it's kinda like drinking a flat beer and we all know that's no bueno. The waiter pours a shot of sidra to every person in your group, all in the same cup, and decides when the next round starts. Oh, and when the bottle runs out, they'll bring you a new one automatically, unless you stop them first, that is. Sidra is known for sneaking up on you, too. And, it does. It got me once. I was out like a light only two hours later.

To my new friends who til now have tended to be pretty amazing but still will only be referred to by their nationality cause I think it's entertaining: The Polish, the Belgian, the German, the Canadian and the Italian. Yes, when you say it like that it sounds the the start of a joke. Honestly, with the way we communicate in our strange mix between English, Spanish and the four other native languages involved, our lives sound like a joke. But, it's good. And the only other random thing I can say about summing up why I am loving these people is: "Que hora es??":

Besos,

Molly

Gijón

So, it’s true, I am off again on another adventure to Spain.

I will be working as an English Language and Culture Assistant (again) with the same program (through the Spanish Ministry of Education). Last year I made the tough decision not to renew my position in Jaén, and instead apply to work in a new region. Being as I am, I decided to make my life as difficult as possible by moving as far away from everyone I know in Spain for no particular reason, and so here I am in one of the most northern parts of Spain: Gijón, Asturias. Being a city on “La costa verde” (The Green Coast) on the Bay of Biscay, the weather here is consistently compared to that of the UK. It’s considered as being rainy and “cold” by Spanish standards, but therefore is one of the few areas with truly green open spaces in the country. It’s got a couple of small, scenic beaches where people go surfing year round and even an “old quarter” that I have yet to visit. Oh, and sidra (cider), of course. I’m sure that there will be a post to come when I learn a bit more about the story behind that deliciously awful alcoholic Asturian drink.

In Gijón I am working at a school called, formally, “Centro Integrado de Formación Profesional de Hostelería y Turismo.” A mouthful, yes. In a nutshell, it’s comparable to a Tech College in the US that teaches courses specifically in tourism and hospitality. I will be working alongside two different English teachers, who, surprise, are actually fluent in English! My students are quite a bit older this year- I have one class of 17-20 year olds, while the other classes range from 20 to 40-something years old. This year, all of them already know how to say how old they are, which makes a much easier starting point than last year. In fact, they understand at least half of what I say in class (or so that’s the impression they give). On the first day of classes I believe I taught every class more than I ever could in two months in Cambil. So, I’m already assisting with classes in Catering, Bar and Restaurant Services, and something like Hotel Services. In the school they study everything from room cleaning to reception, wine tasting to baking, French to English, ahh the joys of a fun school! The cafeteria where the students will practice on the public opens soon and I caaaan’t wait!

I am honestly shocked to say that I have been here for two weeks already. I successfully completed my orientation in Madrid, where I roomed with a girl from South Minneapolis, because the world is always really, really small in my life. In Gijón I can say I have successfully made one friend, a Polish girl named Magda who is a human angel, really. She warmly welcomed me into her home through Couch Surfing (a website for travelers) and is letting me stay until I find a place, which has proven to be a bit more difficult than I imagined. Turns out that arriving in Gijón after university classes started in October was a baaaad idea. I’ve called over 50 ads for apartments or rooms and ALL except abouuuut, oh let’s say seven, have been full. I’ve seen a few places, a few good, a few creepy, a few smelly, and am still working on finding the combination between the place and the people that “click.” One more mental breakdown call to my mom and I she just might fly out here to console me (with ulterior motives of traveling in Spain of course), but honestly, I’m hoping that by tomorrow or the next I’ll have a place to call home. I can feel it in my desperate bones. I also have successfully already taken a weekend off from doing nothing to do some more of nothing with a side of heavy drinking during a long, five day weekend… I’m guilty of enjoying life too much. I went to Jaén for “La feria de San Lucas.” It takes about 12 hours to get from Gijón to Jaén on bus, and isn’t exactly cheap either (round abouts 120 euro), but as I expected it was totally worth it. As a group of wailing hooligans, my good friends from last year and some new ones from this year spent four nights in a row de fiesta until at least eight, nine, or ten in them morning, take your pick. Feria in Jaén is like everything a street drinker could ask for. It consists of 70 or so “casetas” (tents) set up in the local fair ground, each caseta holds either a bar, club, or restaurant. It’s like a glorified pub crawl that lasts 24 hours a day for 10 days straight. Everyone’s mom, uncle, and cat goes to Feria. There, I ran into everyone I met last year and it made me slightly sad to not be back in Jaén for the second year in a row. It would have been quite easy to roll back to the same city with the same great friends and even more new ones, but I am looking forward to getting to know a new city, have a new teaching experience, and, well, a new life experience as well.

Ta ta for now,

Molly