Lisa in Motion

Flip Side

2006-08-31T01:33:00.000-07:00

I'm back in the States and I miss Spain, and I am no longer In Motion.

Now, I just speak.

Find me here: http://lisa-speaks.blogspot.com

Last One from Spain

2006-06-25T15:16:00.000-07:00

So, this is my last entry from Spain. I don't have much to say, except that I hate good-byes, I hate packing, and Iberia is going to charge me so much money for excess baggage, that it's not even funny.

See you all on the flip side.

My Favorite Student

2006-06-20T14:47:00.000-07:00

If anyone ever tells you that they don’t have a favorite student, they’re a big fat liar. Either that or they hate all of their students, which is a pity.

I indeed have one, and he’s a boy in one of the classes that I spend the most time with. First off, he’s hilarious. He used to have crazy hair which matched his persona, but he unfortunately chopped it off after losing a bet. Some of the teachers think he’s a bit foolish and a nuisance in class. But he makes me laugh every single day (which probably isn’t great for discipline’s sake).

Secondly, he’s brilliant. His grades are not great because he doesn’t work hard on the subjects that don’t interest him (like English) but he knows a lot of information that I don’t even know. He loves history and appreciates a lot of things that kids his age don’t give two cents about. When he’s interested in what’s being taught, he looks as if he’s practically sucking the words of the teacher straight into his brain.

Lastly, he has no shame. He has no shame and doesn’t hide any of his emotions. This is possibly my favorite thing about him. Embarrassment is a word that doesn’t exist in his vocabulary, so I have the best time with him during English time. People tend to get shy when speaking to me in English because they’re afraid that they’re going to make grammatical mistakes. This kid makes hundreds of grammatical mistakes, but since he never gives up and will talk to me until I get his point, we end up having great conversations. On top of that, like I said, he doesn’t hide anything. If he’s sad, he’ll tell me that he’s sad, and if he doesn’t understand what I’m saying, he won’t let it pass, he will ask me again to explain it again. As a teacher, I think detecting student’s lack of comprehension has to be the most difficult thing to do, because they don’t tell you until you see their failing grade. With this boy, I never have that problem. He will tell me that he doesn’t get it, and will ask me questions until he does. I’m never annoyed with his questions, and always welcome more, not from the goodness of my heart, but because I really want him to continue.

He’s an open book. He’s honest, sincere, eccentric, and intelligent. I have really high hopes for him. I know that he’s the favorite amongst all the other TAs, and it’s easy to understand why. The only problem is that he can get lazy, so his grades may not improve. I hope he understands in time that studying is important. Us TAs used to joke that he was either going to be a great author or a bum on the streets. I really hope it’s the author that he chooses to become.

Today was my last day with the students. The boy came up to me and said, “Lisa, I am sad. I never forget you.” It meant so much to me, because I knew he meant it. I know that he meant everything he has said to me this year, and that this was no different.

I have come to love all of the kids that I work with. Sometimes, I may not like them, but in the end I love all of them, even the blond girl who pretends to be 10 years older than she is, or the tiny gothic girl who has an attitude the size of the Grand Canyon, or the boy who gets into fights all the time, or the other one who just won’t shut up. They have their difficult sides, but that’s the part of being teenagers. Some of them (including all of the aforementioned “bad” kids) wrote me good-bye letters. All of them came up to kiss me good-bye. I’m very hopeful for their futures, and am saddened that I won’t see them grow up.

I'm flipping 23!!!

2006-06-16T21:04:00.000-07:00

It's my flipping birthday and I feel as though I need to celebrate it here.

I am currently le buzzed after a grand celebration with 20 of my closest friends here. Or around there. I'm not sure how many we were.
But here's what I accomplished tonight:

3 drinks for 3 different guys including a really nice gay bartender. I love him.

Lots of pictures, but not on my camera.

A sketchy invitation to another party, which obcviously, I am not at.

And lots of love from lots of friends. I love you all.

I'm going to take a shower, and then.... bed.

PEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAACE. 23 is going to be awsome.

The picture below is a picture of me, while 20 people were singing happy birthday to me in French, Spanish, English, Arabic, and whatever language that was being represented. LOVE IT!!!

LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE, Lisa

23 is going to be awsome.

The picture below is a picture of me, while 20 people were singing happy birthday to me in French, Spanish, English, Arabic, and whatever language that was being represented. LOVE IT!!!

LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE,
Lisa

I have to take advantage of this.

2006-06-13T14:16:00.000-07:00

So, 2 weeks left in this country and I've had such strong internet connection in my bedroom. Stolen internet connection. I had just learned how to live without it, and it's like God is giving me a slow introduction to what it's going to be like when I go home. I've been able to read the New York Times almost everyday, and I have to say... it's scaring my quite a bit.

Anyway, this entry is just to take advantage of this strong connection I have. Since the last entry, I've been working and watching bits and pieces of the World Cup. My European roommates (German, Italian, and Spanish) all clowned me yesterday because the American team had such a sour loss. 3-0, man, and that's a soccer game. I watched a bit of the Brazil vs. Croatia game, and it was boring as all hell. I'm assuming Brazil won 1-0, but I couldn't be bothered to watch the entire game. I had some high hopes for some great goals, but nothing. Ronaldo just kept on being fat, Ronaldinho kept on having his buck teeth, Roberto Carlos kept on being short, and Cafu kept on being old. And there's a player named Kaka who scored the only goal. I kid, it's mean to say all that. But I expected more, and they didn't deliver it.

Speaking of football players, the teachers that I work with want to have a farewell dinner for my co-worker and me at the most "in" restaurant in Madrid, where the Beckhams regularly come and where the Clintons have dined before. It's apparently 50 euros a pop (I almost chocked on my coffee when they mentioned the price) but I might have to just bite the bullet and pay up and have this experience. (If we can get reservations,) This is going to be hilarious.

The good-byes are continuing. Last night, I bid farewell to my yoga teacher, who has become a pleasant friend. It's going to suck when I have to say good-bye to my students. I'm finally taking pictures of them tomorrow. I can't post them up here, but I will show them to you when I get home.

I don't have any new pictures, but I thought I'd put one up that I hadn't posted here. It's an ass shot of three girls, and your job is to guess which one is mine (without misogynistsic commenting, please) :

charm me all the way.

2006-06-11T07:14:00.000-07:00

The last couple of weekends have been so peaceful and charmingly Madrid. Yes, I've used the word charming and Madrid in the same sentence, even assuming that Madrid equals charm. But I'm convinced. Madrid is such a great city.

Yesterday, I spent the day with a friend. We had lunch at an outside cafe (and got free coffee at the end of our meal from our cute waiter) and went to a photography exhibit. Then, we went to the terrazas and had some beer. Terrazas are the best thing in Spain during warm summer days. They're outside tables set out in front of bars, where you can just sit and chat for hours. It was a perfect Saturday.

The other weekend, I went on a walk in Parque de Retiro with another friend, and we went to the Book Fair. We were walking around the booths, and what do you know, Pedro Almodovar was signing books. He has to be one of the most famous Spaniards in the world right now. He was lively as ever, and seemed very sweet to his fans. If you haven't seen his films, I would give it a chance. Most of them are out-of-this-world-crazy, but there's always a charm to it.

I just love charm. Can you guess?

This week is finals week for my students. I'm giving the oral exams, which I love doing. I hate grading, though. But it must be done.

Ciao.

The Beginning of the End

2006-06-02T17:02:00.000-07:00

The Beginning of the End has now begun. It was marked by the departures of a fellow Fulbrighter and my British co-worker, who've both become such great friends of mine.

I'm quite in a limbo with all of this coming to an end.

It's all because of my conflict of emotions. I feel both excitement and dread about my pending homecoming. It's all because of two things: I have no good reason to stay in Spain, nor do I have a good reason to go home.

I'm going home. That's all settled. I have my flight arranged and there's already going to be a girl replacing me at work. So, the scale is already tipped towards the States because of previous arrangements. But, aside from technical things, I have nothing waiting for me at home, besides my friends and family. I admit, that is reason enough. But when summer ends and fall begins, when everyone goes back to what they have been doing while I was gone, I am positive that I will feel the urge to return to this city again. And vice versa, if I were to stay here, I would probably be incredibly homesick.

I suppose the basis of all this turmoil is my ultimate fear of not progressing. My constant resolution is to progress, and going back to my little suburban town inevitably means regression in my mind. I know that's a foolish thought. I just fear for my own motivation, wondering if it will take me to my next step. I have a tendency to go back to old habits and comforts at home, which hinder my proactive goals.

I still have time to think about all this, especially on my horrible plane ride home. In the meantime, all of my effort will go into not wasting a single moment here in the city.

I will end with a picture that was taken at the Beach in Conil, which was also our last trip together as a group this Fulbright year. It will also probably be the last time you will ever see me in a bathing suite.

How I love everyone I've met this year...

I'M SO HAPPY!

2006-05-24T15:51:00.000-07:00

I recieved the best gift today in the mail. It was a hand-made photo album made by my 3 amazing friends back home. It made my entire year. I can't wait to see them.

I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!!!

YES

2006-05-14T16:56:00.000-07:00

CONGRATU-FRICKIN-LATION YVONNE!!!!

I'm so flippin happy for you!!!

Two alternatives for the word 'fuck'. Cunning linguist, I am. Yes?

BUT SHIZ, I'M SO PROUD OF YOU YVONNE!!

i've got 26 minutes.

2006-05-05T10:27:00.000-07:00

I've got about 26 minutes to think of something witty and worthwhile to write. Excuse my spelling and grammar, although Yvonne-zo has already commented that my English is going dowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwnnnn despite the fact that I have been teaching English all year long.

Any snootch.

My parents visited, and it was indeed pleasant. Loved it. They went home, but so will I in less than 2 months. Which brings me to the following:

HOLY SHIT IT'S MAY.

Ok, now with that out of the way... Today, I spent a good 2 minutes thinking about what it would be like to steal a car. 2 minutes is a long time to think about that kind of stuff. I just saw a parked car, with the engine on, and the door wide open, and I imagined what it would be like if I got in and took off. Then, I realized that it was right in front of the police station, plus the road ahead was blocked off. It is never good to steal. Except wireless. Just kidding.

And for the funny student English of the week!

We're doing poetry right now, and our kids are writing poems for their mothers. I was giving some ideas to this one student, and he was asking me if his little lines of the poem were good. What he meant to say was "You made me and you filled me with life." What he actually read to me was, "You do me and make me full." Oedipus complex!!!! I, of course, corrected him.

Ok, that didn't quite take 26 minutes, but I can't think about more things to tell you all.

Thus ends this scattered entry.

peace.

2006-04-14T05:47:00.000-07:00

Ok. Let me break down my trip to Morocco for you.

We made a trip down to Rabat first to stay with our great Fulbright friend. She used to live in Madrid for the first half of her grant, and now she is spending some time in Rabat to work on her PhD dissertation. Anyhow, we spent a few days in Rabat under her most generous care and hospitality. Than we ventured off on our own to Marrakech for a couple of days. We ran around and came back to Rabat to spend a chill night with some other Fulbrighters. We then went to Casablanca the next morning to catch our flight back to Madrid.

I can’t even begin to describe the adventure we had. I’ll split them into mini-sections.

“Look at all the Christians!”
One of my favorite things we did in Morocco was visit our friend’s Moroccan friends and being invited to eat cous cous in their home for lunch. Couscous is usually only eaten on Fridays in the house with your family. They bring out a gigantic bowl full of couscous covered with vegetables, meat, and beans (It was SO GOOD.) and everyone eats out of that bowl with spoons.
So, we were invited to this great lunch and had the pleasure of meeting the youngest daughter of this adorable Moroccan family. She was 9 years-old and possibly the cutest 9 year-old I have ever. My fellow traveler Janet HATES children with a passion (although she is a TA like me) and she developed a soft spot for this kid, although she did describe her as “the most disgustingly cute kid ever.”
After lunch, we went out for a walk along the ocean with this girl and ended up in a chi-chi café where only foreigners go, and also where you can sip Moroccan tea right next to a great view of the river. We had our tea and pastries while the little girl was getting her sugar fix with Coca-cola. Suddenly, a mob of German tourists came into the café and the little girl squeals something in Arabic. Our friend then translates, “She just said ‘OHHHHHH, Look at all the Christians!!’” We just busted out laughing. “Yeah, the word Christian is basically becoming synonymous with the word foreigner.” Needless to say, that was a running line for the rest of the trip. When we were in Marrakech, we got lost looking for some monuments and found some Anglo-Saxon European tourists. We shouted, “Follow the Christians! Follow the Christians!” and found our destination.

Orange juice.

This is just a simple comment, but Morocco has the best fresh-squeezed orange juice for the cheapest price. It’s about 25 cents, and you get it squeezed right in front of you in these stands that are all over the place. They’re cold and thirst-quenching, which I usually don’t find in juice. I miss it already. When we were in Marrakech, I quickly made friends with a particular stand (despite my limited Arabic and French, which collectively comes out to about 5 words), and by the end of our stay, they were giving us free glasses of orange juice.

Robot in Rabat

So, basically, since the moment we found out that our friend was going to live in a place called Rabat, my group of friends and I were obsessed with the idea of doing the Robot in Rabat. It’s not a lie to say that a significant percentage of our desire to go to Rabat came from our need to do the Robot in Rabat. And here is a proof that we, indeed, did complete our mission. Naturally, we had an audience when the picture was taken.

So that, in a nut-shell, was Morocco. It was fabulous. I bought some pretty shoes and had some great food and company. Now, I’m back in Madrid ready to relax for the rest of the week until school starts again on Tuesday. Everyone has been telling me that after Semana Santa, the school year ends in a flash. We’ll see how fast it all goes.

look at my pretty shoes.

PEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAACE.

yeah i know

2006-04-11T11:38:00.000-07:00

It's April. Shoot me, I didn't blog. It gets hard, you know? Especially if you don't have internet in your piso. AAand, I'm slightly in mourning because I just found out that I lost my external hard-drive that helped me write and post pictures. Let me be.

With that said, I will just let you know that I've, again, had a crazy month. Here on out, all months are deemed crazy. There was a Toledo Fulbright Conference, which was aawwwwsomme. Met some crazy people, and the whole thing made me even more convinced that I forever want to be part of the academic world. They are such crazy muddafukkas! Let's just say that I have never partied so hard with 30+ year-old people. And they're young as all hell.

AND.

One more big thing.

I went down to Morocco again to visit another Fulbrighter that used to live in Madrid. It. Was. AWSOME. Pictures to follow. Let me just figure how I'm going to post it up here.

Sit tight, yo. Let me know if you're alive. This is my way of tell you that I am.

YES! A NEW ENTRY!

2006-03-05T10:28:00.000-08:00

Long awaited update. Hahaha, looong awaited, eh?

March has begun and the trimester is marching along very quickly to a very fast beat. Was that cheesy?
Anyway.

Lots have happened. First, the boy in question from the last entry did get expelled. One day, he was in my class, and then the next day, he wasn’t. I don’t know where he went, or what’s going to happen to him, but all I wish for him is the best. I just hope he wouldn’t suffer too much.

The other thing that sucked the life out of my days at school is a play that I helped work on with my kids. The play was performed in front of a bunch of other students about a week ago, and it was complete shit. It was an absolute mess. I was disappointed with my students, but more disappointed with myself. I thought I could have done things differently to make things better. But there were so many things working against us. Here’s a couple:

1. The play had to be a play from the medieval times. Try finding a medieval time play that’s written in English for kids who are learning it in a second language. I offered to write one, but there even wasn’t time for that.
2. We had a month to prepare everything. A month to find a play, to give it out, to memorize, and to rehearse.
3. Because of the above mentioned condition, we practiced the play all together ONCE. Once. I wasn’t even there for it, because it was a day that I don’t go to work. And, apparently, they didn’t even get through the whole thing.
4. On the day of the play, 2 students with large parts were missing.
Kids didn’t know when to enter, when to leave, the audience couldn’t hear the kids, they didn’t know their lines… BIG FUCKING SIGH. Fortunately, that was a week ago, and no one is talking about it now. But the day following the play, my student came up to me and said, “Lisa, the play, a caca-tion.” You don’t say.

That’s school. Everything is fine now, except for minor problems here and there. We have a busy month ahead of us, with visiting students from England, and a presentation at the local elementary school. I’ve been noticing the improvements in my kids’ speaking abilities (however minor they are), although they still put –tion at the end of every Spanish word to make it sound English. (“Teacher, my mochila-tion heavy.”)

But apart from classes, we got a cat in my apartment. He’s 6 months old, and his name is Sebastian. But we call him Bastian because he’s a bastardo without a real home. Bastian came from the animal shelter that my Animalista of a flat mate works at. He’s staying with us until they find him a new home. He sleeps in my room every night, and my roommates now call him my son, because he’s always hanging out with me. I don’t care too much for cats, but this one is such a punk and a rebel (and a bastard) that I’m developing a soft spot for it. He’s a bitch to Fredi, though, which I do not approve.

Otherwise, it’s been a pretty chill month. (By month, I mean February. March is going to be pandemonium.) I’ve taken on a new mission of trying a new restaurant every other week, and now am proud to say that I have a list of great restaurants where I can take my parents when they visit in late April. It’s a good feeling to know where the good food spots are.

Ciao for now!

P.S. If you’re wondering, “Gee, is Lisa doing her research project?” the answer is a big fatty NO. I am getting no where with it, because I don’t have enough time to do it. It’s not something that I can research on in libraries, and I can’t nearly manage trying to get contacts just during the weekends. I’ll do something about it, though… I have to come back with something.

This is The Bastard, passed out on my night stand.

Just you wait

2006-03-04T09:32:00.000-08:00

I'd like to let my faithful readers (i.e. my parents) know that an update is coming. I have just been buuussssyyyyyyy with a lot of things.

An entry is pending... Like, tomorrow. Maybe, depending on my internet connection.

Vaya Pensamientos

2006-02-02T14:27:00.000-08:00

I know I haven’t updated in a bit, but it’s not because I didn’t have anything to say. Au contraire, I actually had so much to say, that it was circling in my mind without any organization. Therefore, I was not able to put it down clearly on this blog. Despite popular belief, I do actually value quality when writing on this website.

First with the light news.

I went to London. Again. It was my third time, and it was Fab U Lous. This time, I went with my Fulbright girls and I don’t think I’ve laughed so much during an entire trip. The city was bitchin’ as always, and good company and good food made the weekend that much better.
That's me, doing an interpretation of the London Phonebooth Picture.

My new favorite Spanish words are expressions that mean both good and bad. For example, “Que fuerte” literally means “How strong” or “How powerful”. But it can be said when describing something great or something horrible. There are so many expressions like this and it makes me laugh. My favorite is “Es la leche” as in “It’s the milk”. It’s like “It’s the shit” in English, but again, the word “milk” can be used for both very very good, and very very bad situations.

My new favorite person is the French teacher at my school, who askes me questions like how to say like blow job in English. She’s a huge fan of “Sex and the City” and asks me those types of questions because she wants to speak “that type of English.”

And now for the heavy news.

One of my kids punched another one of my kids in the face and it all ended with a broken nose and a handful of frighten children. The kid is suspended right now, with a possible expulsion. The injured kid is still recuperating at home because he had to get an operation, and developed a fever as well. It’s heavy news because they are both kids that I work with everyday. It’s also heavy because the problem child is a questionable problem child. He’s very calm and smart normally, but has explosions of anger sometimes that can be violent. Or that is violent, more like. I like them both, but I do agree with the expulsion idea, because the kid has previous records of violence, and the other students don’t want to have anything to do with him. But, I also don’t want the school to just throw him some where else without really offering an actual solution. Just because he’s violent, doesn’t mean that isolation will be beneficial. If people refuse to console him, he’s just going to feel more alienated, which will lead to more delinquent behavior. The scariest thing about him is that his so-called explosions are so unexpected. He’s not some dumb punk, who always acts out. There’s no way of telling when and where and who he will hurt. I’m glad to just be a teaching assistant without real responsibilities about matter, but also quite frustrated because I don’t have the power to do anything for either of them. He’s a good kid. Just with some problems, you know?

The boy is waiting for the school to make a decision, which can take up to a month. During that time, he has to be in class with the rest of the kids. The other students have said that they don’t want to say anything to him, out of fear of how he might react. Vaya marron, as they say here. Or “What a brown.” You can only imagine what that means. And no, it has nothing to do with shit, simply that it sucks.

And life goes on.

Lisa's Funny English Lessons

2006-01-10T13:15:00.000-08:00

1.
Me: Do you guys understand what the word “sniff” means?
Student: Yes. Cocaina.

2.
Student: Lisa, how do you say Reyes Magos in English?
Me: Three Kings, or Three Wise Men.
Student: Three White Men?!?! But no! One Reyes is Black!!

3.
Older Student: HELLO! BITCH MOTHER!!
My student: LISA! Did you hear what he say?
Me: No, what did he say?
Student: He say, Bitch Mother!
Me: What? That doesn’t make sense.
Student: He say Puta Madre.
Me: Ohhh, ok. Do you know how to say puta madre in English?
Student: Umm… Mudderfaawker?
Me: More or less.

4.
Me: Do you understand what ‘barter’ means?
Student: Yes
Me: Give me an example.
Student: You give me good grade, I give you a ham. No no, better; a chorizo.

Commentary:

1. For your information, to sniff cocaine in Spanish is “esnifar cocaina”.
2. At first, I thought the kid was saying that black men couldn’t be wise, but was glad to realize that he meant that one of the Three Kings was black, and so it was incorrect to call them the Three White Men.
3. I couldn’t see who yelled “BITCH MOTHER”, which obviously is not to be tolerated. But I later found out from a friend of mine, that to say some one is “de puta madre” is actually a compliment. It’s more or less like saying that the person is the shit. I’m not sure if that’s what the kid meant, though. But I was also informed that you rarely use “puta madre” to describe a person. It’s “hijo de puta” as in son of a bitch. Iiiiiiiii don’t know. Slang is so hard.
4. And of course, I end with a jamon quote.

New Year, New Post

2006-01-09T08:25:00.000-08:00

I suppose this is my first post in 2006. I’ve never felt less like I’ve entered the New Year. There are times when events and situations trump the holidays, and I feel like being here wins in importance than the fact that it is now 2006. I’m not sure if I make sense. I felt the same way when I went to New York for the Eve and the New Year with my boobie Peter. The fact that I was in New York having a ball made me forget the fact that we were entering a new year, and it took me a long time to realize that it was, in fact, 2003. Who actually feels like they’ve actually switched over when it becomes midnight, anyway?

Perhaps I feel more so like this because 2006 opened with my siblings being here with me. I was right; it was an unforgettable Eve and a great one at that. We made a brief cameo at the Puerta del Sol for the countdown, but unfortunately, we could not hear the bells. We ended up stuffing our mouths with grapes when the fireworks went off to ring in the New Year. It’s tradition for the clock at Puerta del Sol to ring 12 bells right before midnight, and you’re suppose to eat one grape for each bell to bring you luck for the 12 months. It was a bit anticlimactic to not fully participate in the annual ritual, but the rest of the night went well.

The three of us also went to Sevilla for several days. Sevilla was my introduction to Spain. I studied abroad there 2 years ago, falling madly in love with the city. It’s completely different from Madrid, with tiny narrow streets and buildings with strong Muslim influences. It’s breathtaking, really. I urge everyone to make a trip down there. I was happy to know that there was very little change in the city from the time I left there.

They’re gone now, but I’m really happy that my brother and sister came down here to visit. It was more relaxing to be with them than if I were to have other visitors. We’re more or less a good balance, and this week was a grand testimony of that.

My resolution for this year is simple; to progress. I don’t think it’ll be difficult while I’m here, but the real struggle will be when I go home. HO hum, how the months will fly!!

What is your New Year’s Resolution, if you have one?

Dime. Tell me.

P.S. FOTOS

The adventures of Los Tres in el Puerta del Sol:

2005

2005-12-29T12:40:00.000-08:00

Lisa’s Top 10 Events of 2005 (in chronological order)

1. Waking up in New York City for the New Year.
2. Getting my Harry Potter scar in a not-so magical car accident in San Francisco, followed by a robbery the next week.
3. Finishing my Senior Thesis.
4. Graduating from college and everything that came along with it.
5. Getting a Fulbright Scholarship to Spain.
6. Rekindling with old friends during the summer.
7. Moving to Madrid.
8. Meeting my cheese-loving, dog-loving, sweets-loving, Ross-loving crazy crazy Madrileno friends.
9. Starting my new job as a middle school teaching assistant.
10. This hasn’t happened yet; spending New Year’s Eve in Madrid with my brother and sister. However it turns out, it’s going to be unforgettable.

So, that’s a good year, yeah? I would say it is. The year was a matter of ends and beginnings, a transition for a new chapter in my life. It’s such a cliché, especially since I just finished college, but things become clichés because it happens to everyone. I’m riding my new wave right now, not knowing what to do or where to go, but for the moment, my place is here in Arguelles, in Madrid, in Spain. I thought I’d take this “break” (which, believe me, has been NOTHING like a break) from decision making, and come here for a year. However, I fear that I’m now more confused than ever about where my future is going to be. But, being here forces me to live in the moment. I’ve never been good about planning my life out, anyway. So, I end on a high note, and hope that everyone else has had a decent year, and that you all will have an even better New Year.

Special shout out to my dear friend Marylyn, who just gave birth to a beautiful and healthy 7lbs 4oz girl on December 24th. We all love you, and send you good strong thoughts from all over the globe.

This is a picture of a cookie I made with my friends on Christmas Eve. It's a Spanish Bull, and pay attention the little details of its balls, because that is what makes it a bull, and not a cow.

FELIZ NAVIDAD!

2005-12-22T05:05:00.000-08:00

Madre mia.

The year is almost over, and the trimester ended today. It was a half day, and school was let out at 11AM. I spent the time chatting with my kids about class gossip, finding out who has a girlfriend, who they thought was cute, which professors have nicknames, all kinds of cotijillas. The students also wanted to take pictures of me with their souped up mobile phones and digital cameras. I almost felt like a celebrity, but it was endearing. Some of the older students (17-18 years old) poked their heads into the class just to say "HELLO!!" to me, which is something I feel they wanted to do all trimester. I don't work with the oldest kids, and I suspect they were very curious about us teaching assistants. I can't blame them, we're all young women, only a couple of years older than them.

So... Reflection.

Overall, it was a good couple of months. I've grown to care for my students, and they went off to vacation with affection and interest for me. At least, most of them. We've had a great time, and they still continue to speak to me in English, which is a triumph. After a couple of months, they started suspecting about my level of Spanish, especially when they saw me talking to other professors who don't speak English. But, I refuse to speak to them in Spanish, so they still speak to me in English, which is what I want. I don't ever want them to feel comfortable speaking Spanish to me.

Improvements; there are lots to improve. DISCIPLINE. I have to get them harder on the discipline, because I fear they consider my time with me "fun time". One of my students said to me, "Lisa, it's okay, you are like half student, half teacher." They listen to me the majority of the time, but when it gets out of control, it GETS OUT OF CONTROL. I have to work on that.

I've wanted to kick my kids' asses on several occasions, but in the end, they're all good kids. I'm looking forward to seeing them again in January.

SO! That's my reflection of my first trimester. I hope everyone has a great Christmas and a Happy Holiday! I'm positive I'll update before the New Year.

Peace and Love,
Lisa

7AM rant

2005-12-17T22:10:00.000-08:00

I am sick and tired of disgusting Spanish men.

Of course, there are decent ones. And there are also ridiculous American men. But, recently, the only male contact I've had consist of repulsive PIGS of mankind.

First of all, there is NO EXCUSE for them to treat me like a whore. There is NOTHING about me that screams American Whore. They don't even see me as American. "Where are you from?" Los Angeles. "No, but where are you really from?" LOS ANGELES!! "No, but you're like this. *squints eyes*" queue my exit, right there.

The next pack of guys that scream out "NIIIIHOUUUUUUUUUUUU" to me are getting Chinese Throwing Stars RIGHT IN THEIR ASSES because that's what they want me to be. Some kind of Dragon Lady-Street Fighter- Tea-serving bitch. Motherfuckers.

I miss my guy friends. At least they;re decent. They may not be PC all the time, but at least they have the decency NOT to harass women like they're some kind of public property.

Thank goodness I'm strong enough to take care of myself from these bitches.

THE END.

(P.S. I just came back from a hectic night at a club, and am a little drunk. Just a warning. But I'm dead serious about my complaints. Girls, y'all watch out because "some guys, some guys are only about that thing, that thing, that thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.")

P.P.S. HAPPY B-LATED JAMES! AND DUSTIN! Aaand.... I can't think right now.

I suppose it's time for an update...

2005-12-06T04:43:00.000-08:00

We're reading a book called "Kensuke's Kingdom" in class, and one of the chapters was called, "A Ship's Log." I asked my students if they knew what a ship's log was, and they said yes, a piece of wood on a ship. I said, no, it's like a blog that you have when you're on a ship. At once, they all said "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, a blog! Ok, ok teacher." I asked them if they knew what a blog was, and they said, "Of course. We are savvy, teacher."

In other news, I went to London again. Not many pictures to post this time. Just one:

That's me, looking self-righteous and double-chinned, blocking people traffic at the Portabello Market in Notting Hill. Bought myself a very cute leather bound notebook for seven pounds. Later realized that it's actually 14 dollars, and I cursed at myself, silently. I hate the pound.

While I was in London, I met a girl whose mother is a Japanese flamenco dancer. I emailed her and feel content that I finally have some lead on my project. WOOP!

London and I have a very good relationship, because I always end up wanting to go back there, and the city always shows me a good time. I feel it's because I go there for short periods of times. Over exposure of any kind is never good.

On the otherhand, Madrid and I have a very rocky Love and Hate relationship. I can't quite describe it. At times, I get frustrated with the lack of charm in Madrid. It's diverse, it's urban, and it is exciting. But the constant construction and the lack of character dampens my opinion about this place. There are times when my favorite part of the city is my bedroom, and that's a horrible thing to think about when you're living in a huge city.

At the moment, I am feeling the Love part of our relationship. I felt relief when I got out of the Arguelles metro, coming back from the airport. Arguelles is my oasis here. When I feel the Love, Arguelles is my favorite part of the city. Good thing I live here.

Yeah, I know. Boring post. I'll figure something out later.

Shout out to Carmen, the survivor.

Shout out to my Hannah, HAPPY B-LATED!!

Shout out to my broham and sistah. They will be making an appearance, here in Spain, in a couple of weeks.

Ciao.

Bitching people out, and other (dog) bitches.

2005-11-20T10:08:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite things about being in a foreign country is the fact that any stupid thing you come across can be a learning experience. I don’t feel half as guilty just watching TV; in fact, I encourage myself to watch hours of it. Any dumb American movie is more enjoyable to watch dubbed. There’s a purpose to everything you do.

Now, first I have to mention that I HATE confrontation, normally. But in a foreign country, even that’s pleasant. When you are able to bitch someone out in another language, you know you can survive. I had to do that this weekend with some guy at a club, in defense of my poor French friend who was being hit on (unpleasantly) all night long. I had several arguments with this pesado guy throughout the night because he just would not leave us alone. At a club in LA, this would dampen my night severely. But here in Madrid, I felt triumph in knowing that I can carry my own in an argument, even in Spanish.

The first time that I was able to have an argument in Spanish was in Sevilla, two years ago, when I fought with a bouncer. Unlike Madrid, Sevilla is still pretty much inhabited by Spaniards only, so one in a while there are some establishments that refuse entry of foreigners. (That was two years ago, and hopefully things have changed since then…) I argued with the bouncer for at least half an hour, mostly because he wasn’t taking me seriously. (What can you expect, he was HUGE and I was, well, me.) At one point, he said “Don’t get so upset, here, have some ham. You can’t go in, but have some ham and have the Spanish experience,” and offered me Iberian ham wrapped in tinfoil. The fucking ham. It’s always the jamon. He eventually let us in, but I’ll never forget that experience. That was the moment when I knew that I was improving in Spanish, and also the moment when the novelty of the jamon had slightly worn off.

So you see, life gives me lemons, and here in Spain, most of them are turned into sangria. Most of them.

P.S. Here are some requested pictures of the cachorros, aka, PUPPIES!!!! They have left, but they caused a raucous the few days they were here. My flat mate’s friend told me that my days here in Madrid are all about dogs. And it’s true.

I have to first start with my true love, my Coby. He's my dog back at home. Here, he is blinking and looking so human, I can't stand it.
Ok, now to the puppies. Me and Oscar.
Oscar and his sister, Guerra. I'm pretty sure Guerra means 'war' and I forgot to ask my flatmate why on earth she was named 'war'.
This is a picture of the other dogs who I share my flat with. The left is The King, aka Fredi. He actually lives here. The other one is Ani, who stayed with us for a couple of weeks. She was rescued from a man who starved himself and his dogs, because he decided to taken in over 100 stray dogs. (Poor old man, a bit senile.) She was TERRIFIED the first couple of nights, but she turned out to be a real bitch in the end. Cute and smart, and really bitchy, in a powerful good way. They're watching TV with me here, me being on the other couch, across from them.
I have to say thay Fredi is my steadiest male Spanish friend, here in Madrid. The others are, well, disposable. Or have been disposable. Or just acquaintances. I might have to fix that.

Sick..

2005-11-16T12:06:00.000-08:00

I got sent home sick from school yesterday, like a student, except I'm not a student and I still have to take care of myself and go grocery shopping and cook if I want to eat something besides bread.

I also temporarily adopted two 6 week-old puppies for this weekend and although they are cute as a button, they will not stop peeing and pooing in my room. I'm still taking care of them, and now am slightly aware of how it must be like to be a sick mother. Only slightly. One good thing is that my nose is PLUUUUGGGEED up, so I can't smell a thing. For all I know, my room probably smells like peepeecaaacaa land.

Additionally, I made the mistake of posting my mobile number on an online site in search of a conversation partner. My phone has not stopped ringing, and I have stopped picking it up. Email me please, if you're interested. (P.S. If I know your number, I'll pick it up.)

Finally, I understand that this post is junk and gibberish, as well as the last one. I would have liked to post a picture of the puppies, but I'll leave you with a picture of me when I was healthier, and therefore, eating junk.

PAZ.

P.S. Would really appreciate online-chicken-soup, a.k.a., warm messages.

Car-man arrives

2005-11-13T09:57:00.000-08:00

My college roommate (who I will forever refer to as my roommate) flew in for a whirlwind weekend in Madrid, from London. I don't know why, but whenever we are together, being cultured flies out the window and being obsessed with pop culture takes over.

This weekend, we decided to pretend that we were being followed by paparazzi. We were celebrated celebrities:

Don't follow us please. We are important. Notice the phone and the sunglasses??

A deeper entry will come again, some day.

P.S. I went skiing with my students at an indoor ski dome called Xanadu. As in the movie. It was totally 80s'. Including a hot ski instructor. May return again, just for the instructor. Will also return to blog writing proper sentences with proper subjects. But not now.

Santiago!

2005-11-05T00:29:00.000-08:00

Santiago was wonderful. Here is a clip of my trip in images.

People were lying on the ground to take pictures of the great cathedral.
So I did too. This was the only way to get the whole thing (more or less).
Pose for victory. More or less.

Janet taking a picture of me taking a picture of myself on the ground.

Galicia was full of great food and extremely kind people. I also got interviewed for some local news channel about Dia de los Difuntos. Of course, I got asked about the Day of the Dead practices in Japan, pero bueno, at least I knew something about it.

Today, I'm going to the animal shelter with the flatmate Animalista. Will be back to report!!

Numbers

2005-10-26T13:29:00.000-07:00

Number of times I've been mistaken as a student at my school: 3

Number of times I've been mistaken as a 13 year old student at my school: 2

Number of times students have shouted "NIHOUUU" to me when I entered the class: I stopped counting. They' been a lot better about it these days. But still.

Number of times I scold, "I'M NOT CHINESE!!" to my students: About 5 times a day.

Number of times a student has asked me if he could be considerd black because he has a huge black birthmark: 1

Number of times I've written students' names in Japanese: 50+ and counting

Number of students that have asked me about Naruto: 2

Number of times students have asked me what "cock" and "boolbies" are= 6 (That's not a misspelled word. They actually said boolbies.)

Number of times that some of my male students have told me "Lisa, Manuel, he loooooove you."= Who knows. (They're talking about another student.)

Sigh.

I need a drink.

(Drinking pink champagne at the Dorchester in London. Pija, no? Pija= Posh)

PAZ.

What's up?

2005-10-24T14:38:00.000-07:00

Today's picture depicts something that I feel the States should adapt right NOW. It's just a shopping basket, but that has wheels, and you can DRAG IT!!!

Anyway...

What's up? What's up? You want to know what's up? Three out of my four roommates have chicken pox, and we haven't had running water in our apartment for three days.

That's what's up. Spots and thirst, as well as complete CHAOS in the kitchen. It's fucking disgusting, de verdad. Don't even get me started on the bathroom. Three women for three days. Three three three.

We are five grumpy dry dirty women, and one dog who could care less. WATAAHHHH!!!

That's all I have to say about that.

PAZ

2005-10-21T07:13:00.000-07:00

Today, we start with pictures of two shelves. Each teacher in the English Department gets a shelf, and these are pictures of shelves belonging to two wonderful teachers, with whom I work with. It’s just to show you that you can be a complete mess and a neat freak to be a great educator. These shelves are right next to each other, and the two teachers are great friends. I just thought it was worth a chuckle.

I have to retract something from my last entry. The cheese comment was written incorrectly. It’s actually “Estas como queso” and not eres. In addition, you can also say “Estas como jamon,” (you are like ham) and mean the same thing. I swear, cheese and ham. Cures all. I was watching a television program called Aida (My new favorite!) and this man tricked a lady over some issue with money. As an apology, he brought jam, and then all was well. VIVA JAMON!

Speaking of the cheese comment, a couple of days ago, I tutored one of my students at his house, along with his (ADORABLE) little sister. This kid was the guy who made the queso comment, you know, too-cool-for-school type, but smart. And sometimes a smartass. I sat down with him at his desk, and started looking at some of the worksheets and… low and behold… the kid was nervous!! He was stuttering and was really quiet, not really looking at me unless I was speaking to him; it was hilarious! He was acting as if he was 5 years younger (he’s 13) and was completely endearing. We worked together for about an hour and a half and he slowly started warming up to me, but the smartass part of him never came out. He was sweet and obedient the entire time, and when his mother came in to check on us, he was just as sweet to her. THEN, next day in class, it was back to normal, just as I thought. When I would tell him to SHUT UP, he (along with his friends) would say things along the line of, “We were practicing English teacher! Bery bery good? Yes? Credit? (meaning extra credit?)”. Back to normal. Where did that sweet kid go??

I found that to be the case with most of the students. When you catch them by themselves, they are sweet as pie, but when they are with everyone, they turn into part of this… mob. Most of my students are good kids, so I don’t have a huge problem with them. But the difference is hilarious.

I’m having dinner with the English teachers today. I love working with them. Good food, and good company. That is what life is all about!

P.S. I LOOOOOVE saying ‘my students’ or ‘my kids’. I think it’s the maternal part of me, or something like that.

Beethoven and Cheese

2005-10-16T08:17:00.000-07:00

I’m watching Beethoven on TV right now (dubbed of course, in Spanish) and it’s making me homesick, because that movie was shot in my dear little city. OH MAN, Garfield Park is on right now!! Yes, Beethoven 1 and 2 were shot in South Pasadena, and I have met Beethoven himself, when I was 10…? Whenever the movie was made. I was a little disenchanted to find out that there were actually 3 Beethoven dogs that played the part, but I got over it without much emotional scars. Or, I think.

The first day of classes, my students had to ask questions in English about me, as sort of an introduction. The most asked questions all concerned California, about the beaches and Hollywood. One little kid asked “Arrrr der a lot ob beeeches in Los Angeles?” It took me a second to answer it, even though it’s SUCH a common mispronunciation. Either way, I was going to answer, “Why yes, there are (in fact) a lot of bitches/beaches in Los Angeles.”

I learn lots of things from my students as well. We were doing an activity where each student wrote down a sentence and passed the paper along to make a collaborative story. Tu sabes. I know you’ve done something like this before. You just pass along the paper to make one long story. Well, my kiddies need a bit of direction, so there was a basic skeleton to the story. The title was “It Made My Day!” and it took place in a restaurant where meet a strange person, but somehow, the story had to end up in a way where it made your day. We’re talking 13 year olds here, so it was all about finding a beautiful girl/boy and being asked out for una cita. Here’s one ending of a story, verbatim. “The guy went to a girl and said, ‘You are coming to my house. You know why. You are like cheese.” Cheeky ain’t it? “You know why.” Que chulitos son. The cheese comment is the best part. It's a Spanish expression, and it means that you are beautiful. “Tu eres como queso.” You are like cheese. Yous like hot cheese baybeeee!! is what he wanted to say. Ahluuvit. Only here, could you be compared to a block of cheese and let it be a good thing. Vosotros todos sois como queso.

As far as the weekend recap goes, not much to note. I went to another discoteca called Palacio, aka Palace, aka a club which is actually a palace. Or parts of it. ( My friends asked me if I actually do anything besides partying, because I always call them when I come back at 7AM. I swear to you, te juro, that partying is an event and not a daily occurrence.) Here’s another peace sign. There ya go. PEAAAAAAAAAAACE.

LONDON BABYY!!

2005-10-10T15:04:00.000-07:00

I think I might keep up with this trend of posting pictures that show no sign of where I am, even if I’m in some place fantastic. This picture was taken during my whirlwind weekend getaway to London. It’s a symbol of my love for Pitzer and the hippie association I have, ergo, the tree-hugger pride that I will always carry with me.

London was FABULOUS. I went to go visit my Crazy Catwoman Carmen and my other crazy ex-suitemate Louisiana Lauren. Carmen romanced me like the good girlfriend she is with a luxurious high tea at the Dorchester, complete with finger sandwiches filled with prawns, freshly baked scones and pastries, tea (duh), and pink champagne. We were clearly the youngest and most foolish girls there, as we were giggling and getting buzzed off the bubbly, while taking discreet (a.k.a. without-flash) pictures of us trying to be Ladies Who Lunch. Lauren showed us a good night about town at a club called Ministry of Sounds, where none other than DJ Jazzy Jeff was spinning that night. He played songs reminiscent of the days of Fresh Prince, which was purrrrfect for a girl drunk off of several (free) vodka tonics. The weekend was capped with Wallace and Gromit and the Curse of the Were Rabbit, which I have been dying to see since this summer. All in all, everything was great, and I left the city screaming, “I HAVE TO COME BAAAACKK!!!”

Pero bueno. I am back in Madrid, back at work. Yesterday, I taught my first class with 16 year olds. I was terrified of these kids, after watching them strut down the halls looking about 5 years older than I look right now. They turned out to be calm and yet non-responsive. With my 12-13 year olds, they won’t stop talking even if you plead them to. These kids are too cool to sound stupid, so they opt to not speak at all. We’ll see how the year goes, as I have a class with them every Monday for the rest of the year. The middle-schoolers have really grown on me, though. Today, as I was walking towards the train station after work, a gang of them screamed “LISAA GOOOO – BAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!” from across the street. I waved at them as if I was waving to my minions during a parade.

In other news, I broke my glasses. I sat on them when I was looking for them without my contact lenses. Looking for you glasses when you can’t see has to be the saddest thing you could do. This is the third time I’ve broken my glasses, once when my dog ate them while I was asleep (He actually pulled it off my face, that son of a bitch.), second when I rolled over them while asleep on my dog’s bed, and now this. It’s a bit of a blessing in disguise because I have been eyeing these magenta colored glasses at El Corte Ingles, but my stipend will not allow me to spend on such things. Puta madre. At the moment, I have taped them together, and am looking dork-a-licious.

I will end my rather orthodox daily recap blog entry here. I still hate the word blog. Un besito and a big shout out to Carmen and Lauren for being such sweet hostesses this weekend. Loves you both to bits! And also Un Abrazo FUERTTTEEE (a big HUUUGSIIIEESSS) to all those who have been commenting! I miss you like no other. Eat good food for me, because there is nothing more than Cali food that I miss right now, you know, besides you guys. And to you Leanne, Korean food. :)

Not kids, but not adults

2005-10-04T10:41:00.000-07:00

I will start with a Toledo picture, which is only a Toledo picture because it was taken there. It is with the Cruzcampo man, which is a brand of beer in Sevilla. Oh Sevilla. Madrid has been treating me well, but I fear my heart will always be with Sevilla.
Anyways. I give you these key words for today's entry:

Pedagogy. Education. BAH!!!

Since three weeks ago, I have been a bonafide educator and it has been one hell of an experience.

I don't even know what to write, really. There are so many things swirling in my mind.

First of all, I think I really do enjoy teaching. I get a real high off of power when I tell the kids to shut up and they do, indeed, shut up. It makes me smile when kids ask me questions, when I notice a student with great hidden talents, when the quiet ones try their best to answer my questions (however nervous they may be), or when the loud-mouthed brats chill out for just one second.

The majority of the kids I teach are great kids. The bilingual program that I am a part of has been only in effect for a year. So sadly, the kids are no where near being bilingual, and, probably won't be native speakers, as my kids are at least 12 years old already. The effectiveness of the class heavily relies on the English skills of the teachers, and some times... That's a bit faulty as well. The positive side of it all, is that the teachers that I work with are really determined educators. Really really determined and it's infectious. I feel really comfortable knowing that I'm working with people... who really care. All together now. Awwwwwwwwwwwww.

So to get to the details, here are the subjects I that do a little TAing : Geography and History (I don't know how I'm accredited to teach this, as I have The Worst Sense of Direction), Science (The girl who almost failed bio teaching this...), Art (There's this one kid in my class who is a genius. I love watching him), and English (My favorite, as this is really the only thing that I have natural intuitions about. Although my grammar SUCKS.)

I'll keep it here, as I don't want to start complaining when it's only been 3 weeks, nor do I want to glorify anything, because I don't want it to bite me in the ass later. I am, though, a bonafide educator. And me thinks me likes.

La Noche Madrilena

2005-09-25T09:53:00.000-07:00

For whatever reason, I'm only able to successfully upload 1 picture per entry. So here is a Victory Sign from me to you. I'm in my tiny ancient elevator in my apartment, after successfuly walking to my apartment from the Gran Via with my aching feet. I went out two nights in a row until about 7AM, and the Victory is for making it back safe both times, despite obstacles such as alcohol and high heels. I don't have internet in my apartment, so I wrote the next portion on Word, right after I came back the first night. Enjoy.

It is clsoe to 7Am right now, 6:53AM to be precise, and I just arrived back to my bedroom. I've finally lived the notorious Madrid Life and I am back to report. What a ridiculous night.
The night wasn't so much ridiculous as the club we went to. Some girlfriends and I went to a "superdiscoteca" named Kapital. This establishment is the most ridiculous place I've ever been to. First of all, and most of all, it is 7 stories high, with different DJs and 7 different bars. The go-go dancers do nothing but look beautifully plastic, and chic-ly bored. There was everything, from mullets, to fishnets, to tight tight jeans (unisex), to cocaine, to everything 80s' that can be handled in 2005. Personally, mullets and crack is OUT OUT OUT for me, but there is always something retro that sparks the European heart.
The key to Madrid night life transportation is to leave for the club right when the Metro closes at 1:30AM and go home when it opens again at 6AM. The first week I was here, I thought they were fucking nuts to lead the kind of life but... here I am now. I did the nighlife Metro routine and walked the dark 6:30AM walk. I think that is a main factor to the crazy club nights here. The sun doesn't rise until around 8AM. Kids go home at 6 thinking it's nighttime because there isn't a hint of sunlight. Oh, but what do I know.
The night was filled with much dancing, much mingling, a bit of a rendezvous of all sorts, and plenty of funny and some-what disturbing attention. When you're foreign, and you're in a place full of intoxicated Spanish men, it is inevitable that you get more attention from them, whether it is wanted or not. Most of them were pleasant, but some were a bit to handle. Let's just say, that at one point in the night, a tall Spanish man with a baby blue daisy shirt threw me over his shoulder and carried me off to the dance floor, as if he was Tarzaan, and me Jane. It was more of a You-Tarzaan-Get OFF OF ME type of situation, so I got out of that unfortunate position like a True Expert. When you're a small girl like me, you learn to handle yourself in a testosterone-filled situation. People worry about me in that sense, but I assure you, I know how to take care of myself. Plus, when you got to a club with a group of American girls, there are no other groups of girls that are more loyal about getting you OUT of a bad-man-situation. Issaaaalllgoood.
Vale. It is 7:04AM now. I've drank my glass of water and ate my slice of bread. With insurance for a hang-over free afternoon, I bid thee good-night (morning) and adieu til next time.

P.S. I CHANGED THE SETTING SO ANNNYYYONNNNEEE CAN COMMENT WITHOUT HAVING A BLOGSPOT ACCOUNT. MAH BAD, I HAD IT SET TO "ACCOUNT HOLDERS ONLY" THIS WHOLE TIME. SO!!!!! NOW!!!! LET ME HEAR YA!!!

FOTOS part 1

2005-09-20T13:01:00.000-07:00

La vida es jamon. The life here is all about ham. HAM = JAMON.

I know the image is posted on here thrice, but this blogger-photo-posting-thing is not working out for me, and, I am running out of internet cafe time. Besides, that is how much Spain loves their ham.

This is the closet park of my bedroom, and that window you see there looks out into the streets. I can´t even tell you how much I am in love with my apartment.

Near Puerta de Sol, which is the city center of the Center of Madrid. Beware of pick-pockets in this area, because they are ubiquitous. (however you spell that)

Ok, I realize that this is not sufficient. HOWEVER, the computer is not working with me, so I will try later, along with an update about my FIRST DAY TEACHING 13 YEAR OLDS.

Ciao.

mmhmmm...

2005-09-16T11:59:00.000-07:00

Nothing to report today, except that the mullets are back FULL FORCE here in Madrid. Business in the front, paaaaaaarrrty in the back. Is it just me, or is that description pretty fitting for Madrid?

The Piso Situation

2005-09-14T13:13:00.000-07:00

Let´s call this The Piso Situation.

The Piso Situation started when I went to go talk to the Artista and the Musico about house rules and payments and such. First things first, the Musico was not there. I´ve been mainly talking to the Artista and well... let´s just say that things were a little different than I had hoped it would be. I found out that they were bohemian by profession, but militant by life styles. She presented me with a set of house rules, and I had to sign a paper saying that I understood them. Here are some rules: First, I am not allowed to use any parts of the house that are not designated to me, which excludes the living room and two other open rooms. Second, no visitors of any type, "de ningún tipo" she said. Third, even though I get to use less than half of the apartment, I still have to pay the same amount for utilities as the rest of them.

I left the apartment drowning in remorse, KNOWING that I was about to enter a situation that was going to SUCK. I called my apartment-housing expert Nudy close to tears, and she told me that I needed to get out of there ASAP. Luckily, I hadn´t paid the deposit or month´s worth of rent. So, I went back to the grand Colegio, and talked to the two remaining girls in the guy-infested dorm. They told me that I had to get out of there as well, and sweet Jenica-not-Jessica offered me a place that she saw earlier today. She was going to live at another place because it was close to work, but she swore to me that this place was lovely. I called the girl immediately, and ran over there at 10pm to take a look at the place. It. Was. FABULOUS!! The biggest bedroom I have ever seen in Spain, and a dog named Fredi greeted me at the door. Fredi asked me to stay and play, so I am now living there as of this point.

My bedroom is huge, with thrice the closet space I need, plus a window that opens out to the streets. I look out, and BAM, the city is right there. Plus, Parque del Oeste, also known as the prettiest park I have seen is a block away. I live with 3 Spanish girls and a Korean girl. Korean homegirl had some Korean food stashed in the fridge. Soon Dooboo in Spain? I think it may be possible!!

The girl I have been mainly hanging out with is Fredi´s lady, la Animalista. Animalista is not a word, but she loves loves loves animals and especially dogs. Dog in Spanish is perro, and perra means bitch, which she is not. So Animalista she shall be. We went out on a walk with her "friend" El Ecuatoriano. He has two dogs, Jimi and Jacko. "Amigos" she said, but I am not dull. Something sweet is brewing over there. They showed me around the western part of the city and I. Love. It! Viva Arguelles. I think I found my place.

Another thing, complelty off topic, but interesting... I ran into 2 people from my high school. 2 people that I have literally not seen for four years, and we meet, here... in Madrid. LOCO. I´m supposed to meet with them in an hour because apparently, another SPer is here in Madrid for one more night. The world is the smallest thing, my friends.
I can´t figure out how to spell check on this thing, so excuse my spelling and grammar. I´m madly writing this, because my time in this internet cafe is about to be up.
Bueno, ciao everyone, and don´t be scurred by comments by strangers! Everyone is welcome.

PISO!

2005-09-11T08:37:00.000-07:00

Ladies and Gentleladies, I FINALLY FOUND AN APARTMENT.

I feel like I can finally write because I found my new home. It's in a cute neighborhood called Arguelles and I'm living with a couple. Now, usually couples entail drama, but these two were so chill, so I hope I'm not putting myself in a shithole because I followed my judgment.

The apartment is bohemian but clean, and my bedroom has great natural light. It's TINY, though. I also have a salon to myself, which is even smaller. I've been calling it the cubicle salon, because it looks like a cubicle turned into a room. The artista Marisita told me that I can use the two rooms however way I'd like to, but without Thom from Queer Eye, I'm not so sure what to do with the second room. I'm glad I have the extra space, because the bedroom is tiny, but... We'll see. I can get creative.

The best thing about the place is the location. Very cute bars and cafes just around the corner, a young vibe, very chill, but vibrant. The apartment also has internet, so more updates will come. It also has a DRYER which is something of a luxury here in Spain. We're going to have to pay a lot for the electricity bill, pero bueno, I am DONE looking for places.

So, in a day, it is good-bye to el Colegio Mayor, my home for the last week. I made friends with some of the guy students that live here, specifically el Experto and el Honrado. Those are the nicknames, which directly translates to The Expert and The Honorable. Neither are anything like their nicknames, but that has been the fun part about hanging out with them.

I have to quickly mention that this blog is STRICTLY my own opinion. There's been several cases where people got fired from their jobs because of things they wrote in their blogs, and since I am on a government funded scholarship, I'd like to make it clear that this is my opinion, and not that of the Fulbright commission, the US Embassy, nor the Comunidad de Madrid.

With that being said...

We did meet the American Ambassador of Spain. The US Ambassador of Public Services is the co-chair of the commission, so we had a reception with the Ambassador and some of the other officials from the Fulbright and Comunidad de Madrid. I have to say, the Ambassador was a likeable guy. You, or at least I, always get weary when meeting government officials, but he was very friendly. A man originally from Louisiana, he greeted us with a huge "HOWDY folks!!" and I must admit, it made us feel very comfortable. Also, since he is from Louisiana, he did speak to us about Katrina, and teared up a little bit when he reenacted the moment when planes took off from Spain to the US carrying food and water. There's a guy from Tulane University here too, and his visa is floating around in the water some where. It's... a catastrophe. Really. I fear President Bush is unpopular here, now more than ever, since the Socialists regained power after the March 11th bombing.

Anysnootch, I feel that I will have more interesting stories and the energy to type them out when I get situated in my piso (apartment). I gotta tell ya, this apartment searching ordeal has really kicked me in the ass as far as energy goes. I'm out in the city all day, and I am pooped by 8pm in the evening. Since the search is over, I promise to be more funny.

Besitos.

What to say, what to say...

2005-09-06T16:01:00.000-07:00

Well chickadees and chickadudes, I am here in Madrid.

I am staying at a university dorm hall called Colegio Mayor Jaime del Amo, which incidentally is an all-boys dorm during the school year. There have been several Spaniards walking around the premise, and some have been very friendly. The freshmen boys of the hall have to go through a series of hazing, which I believe is a boarding school tradition. I don’t really know, as I never was part of anything close to that. I don’t know what it is about boys and their pleasure in watching other dudes in pain. The things the freshies have to do seem pretty harmless, so far. Us female Fulbright students have been marked as targets with theses hazes. Today, we were serenaded by one of the freshmen with the Macarena, complete with the dance and the Ole at the end. By the way, the two old men who sang that song were famous flamenco singers before. Go figure.

The students, senior researchers, and PhD candidates here for the Fulbright are here for amazing projects. There are so many interesting research topics, and I really want to know how it all turns out. There are history projects, like the African legacy in La Habana y Cartagena in Sevilla (JEALOUS! I talked to the guy who was doing this for his dissertation, and we were chatting forever and a half about Sevilla), and something as modern as constitutional law and gay marriage. Gay marriage just passed this year in Spain, and it’s a really interesting situation. (It’s surprising that a country with a national religion can deal with this, and certain “secular” countries can’t even stomach it.)

The last two days have been a whirl. Between orientation meetings, I’ve been squatting in the front hallway with my laptop furiously looking for an apartment. The dorm has wireless here (amaaazinggg!) and it only works for me near the front door. A bunch of us are down stairs staring at our respective screens, and I must admit, we look a little strange to the Spaniards. Easier target for the hazing.

This feels like freshman year in college, with the dorms, the cafeteria foods, meeting new people, talking to the new people for an hour past meal time in the cafeteria… dare I say, it makes me miss Pitzer a little bit. But, I figure this is the best version of freshman year at Pitzer, in a more grown-up situation.

I have yet to entertain you with a funny anecdote, as I’ve only been here for about 40 hours. I am still looking for that perfect apartment (with internet, a bratty request) with the perfect natural lighting and a balcony… I’m still hoping. We shall meet here again when I am settled in. My one fear right now is actually becoming homeless, but we all know that everything turns out okay in the end.

Un saludo y besitos.

P.S. Incidentally (I got that word from Rachel the Cheesy Ray), you can comment on this page without having a Blogspot account. I think there’s an option that says “guest” or something, and so you don’t have to go through the hassle of creating an account. In any case, this little tidbit is to encourage you all to leave me a little sumthin’ sumthin’.

Tomorrow is the day!

2005-09-03T04:38:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is the day, and I am still packing. I knew it. It was inevitable.

So, let me break it down for you. I'm going to be in Madrid for 9 months for the Fulbright Schoarship. Here is a bit of a description. And this is a brief abstract of what I will be doing:

In a globalized world, cultural collisions generate various interesting forms. I would like to study one example of this collision in the south of Spain. My proposed project is to research the Japanese flamenco dancers who have traveled to Spain from Japan to study this ancient art form. I will combine this interest with part-time TA work at a secondary school, basically our version of high school.

What that means exactly, I honestly do not have a clear idea. I think it's going to form itself as I go. Basically, though, it means that I will be running around interviewing Japanese flamenco dancers about their expereinces, while teaching English at a high school. When I tell people about my project, they give me this "Why? What? Flamenco?" kind of sputter. Why am I doing this? Because I want to know about it. That's it. And someone decided to give me money to go investigate, so that is what Imma do. I have a bit of a feeling that my research is going to take a back seat in the first couple of months while I get used to teaching, but I'm ok with that. I think I need a sense of direction and guidance when I first get there.

SO I'm off. Enjoy my Pandora's box of confusion, and hopefully, enlightment.

mmm, nerves are kicking in

2005-08-23T01:35:00.000-07:00

Up until this point, I honestly wasn't nervous at all about leaving. A school year is so flipping fast, I figured, "Meh, I'll see you around." I'm pretty nonchalant about sensitive subjects, a bit to a fault.

I'll be leaving in about a week and a half. Now, I'm chronically anxious. I go throughout the day where my heart suddenly skips a beat, about ever hour on the hour.

I suppose I'm getting nervous about leaving because I've been enjoying the recent company I've had. This summer has been laid back as all hell, with friends who have really become part of my family. I guess I'm just going to really miss them. But seriously, a year is so fast. I'll come back and y'all will be saying, "What? That's it? You're back already??" Unless I don't come back to the States. I have yet to buy my return ticket. I kid. I do need to buy my return ticket though.

So... My medical forms are cleared, I'll be picking up my visa next week, and my bags will be packed the day before I leave. I hate packing. I seriously detest it. We'll see how it goes.

Cheesy blog name, I know...

2005-08-08T12:53:00.000-07:00

Lokamotion was a nickname that I've acquired in elementary school because of my first initial and last name. What can I say, it was the 80's and Kylie was singing that song. I chose it, though, because I hope that's what my daily life would be like when I'm in Spain. In constant motion. So, there is a slice of hope hidden in that dumb name of mine, and I hope you all will enjoy my itsy bitsy thoughts that I will record here.

I have a little less than a month until I leave for Madrid. I shall post again once the date gets closer.

CIAO!