Sunday, 19th September
I have now realised that I was pretty cavalier about learning Spanish when I was in the UK. I think I subconsciously assumed that I could get by with knowing very little. Upon my arrival at the airport, I couldn’t even operate a payphone successfully. Luckily, an old woman in the booth next to me was having similar troubles, so she came up to me and started to shout at me. I was pretty sure she wasn’t speaking Spanish but no matter how loudly she shouted, I STILL didn’t understand. Disgusted at my stupidity and rudenss, she sauntered off to harass someone else. Welcome to Spain?
Monday, 20th September
I genuinely feel as if I’m having a stroke, and I’ve only completed 1 day of the course. We had a welcome lunch in the afternoon and I literally have no idea what I said to anyone! Oh lord. From the teaching theories I learned as part of the TEFL module I did in uni, I can tell this is good quality teaching, but I feel as if my forehead is about to fall off!
Tuesday 21st September
Still not feeling good! Went to a bar on the way home to do my homework, and the bartenders talked to me and around me. They seemed to find it really hilarious that I could not understand a word of Spanish and I in turn like the free crips, nuts, and chorizo. I feel it’s a win win. My host, Mirta, invited a young American girl round for dinner. Ruth used to live with Mirta but since she started her MA in Spanish Literature she rents a place across town. She seems like a really nice girl! She has invited me out this weekend for drinks and Mirta said that she wouldn’t have invited me unless she wanted to see me again, so I am really flattered and looking forward to a night out.
Wednesday 22nd September
Went for tapas after class ended with a really cool Swedish girl that I met from the intermediate group. It’s getting pretty surreal not being able to do normal things like order at restaurants or complete transactions in supermarkets. People address you “normally”, then you garble some Spanish at them, which causes either two things to happen; they either start to smile and talk very slowly to you, or look very bored and repeat exactly the same thing again and again at the same speed. The latter of the two is the most popular option, but neither are ideal.
I have LITERALLY never been this tired before in my life. My brain is drained!
I keep on experiencing a curious feeling—like being hungry but not knowing what for. I try to eat, and I try to drink. But I just feel hollow. Is this home sickness? Who knows...
Ruth has called Mirta, offering me a private teaching job. It will be nice to start earning some money!
Thursday 23rd September
During Spanish class, I let slip that I had no knowledge of what the 3rd person singular was. The teacher became exasperated at my not understanding. I was on the verge of tears but luckily talked myself out of it. I’ve realised that my fellow students who speak French or are already bi/trilingual have a huge and unfair advantage. I won’t be demoralised though, as there are cognates with my language and I can do it! The human brain is amazing and i just need to train mine more.
I really hope this whole “first person” verb conjugation idea clicks soon. Else it’s going to feel like a REALLY long time till July.
Trying to look for a library near to where I am staying makes me wonder how anyone ever uses google street view to help them burgle houses. Anyone with esoteric powers enough to operate Street View skilfully enough to “case joints” is welcome to burglarise my house. They’ve earned it.
Friday 24th September
God bless Mirta. God bless her! I got in from school today and almost cried when telling her about my day! She gave me some excellent advice—go and chill and be more patient! I have always been very impatient, so this is the time to change!
I feel under immense stress. It’s kind of like losing your sight, but I sometimes think about how terrible it would be to be blind; I’ve never really appreciated being able to speak and be understand by the people around me. I’m such a sociable person, but now I can’t talk to 90% of people as I am a foreigner, an outsider. I try to learn the words but only so many of them seem to stick. I can’t express how I think or feel.
I think it must be quite revealing the vocab we first learn when learning a new language. I now know how to say sorry, and seem to start almost every sentence with it. I’m so...in control when i speak my own language, but here I’m...I have no control over how I present myself. I’m like some sort of clown. This whole experience is like playing one long game of charades. And it’s constant. Every time I want something, I have to play the game. But I’m so so tired.
Sunday 26th September
Met an acquaintance from university for a coffee and a catch up, then headed to the weekly Couch Curfing picnic in Retiro. There were about 30 people there, which I found pretty exciting, until I realised that there was a social politics situation going on. At one end of the circle, everyone was speaking English, and at the other, Spanish. So much for King Arthur’s idea about using a “round table” to make all the knights equal.
Having said that, we had a pretty good time in the sun, drinking beers and talking about life. Later, we went to something that people referred to as a “squat”. Fully expecting to be led to a filthy house full of used hyperdermics, I followed the crowd, my metro ticket in my pocket in case I needed to make a speedy getaway. We arrived at a huge abandoned building, which had a lot of people traffic flowing from the entrance. Inside, there were huge mosaics, and random artists had grafittied created installations. We wandered into the outside courtyard, which was full of people sitting, talking, and dancing to the live music. I felt really tired and a little dizzy so I went home quite early.
Paper Troubles...
So, I’m a stationary geek. I like things to be organised, and colour coded, and I have nothing to be ashamed of, ok?
The Spanish have no concept of our humble “pads” of paper, with lines, and holes, and a gum bit down one edge with a handy piece of cardboard on the back which keeps it all rigid. Oh no. The Spanish laugh in the face of such ridiculous prudery!
In Spain, paper wise, you have two options. Either a notebook which is spiral bound, or you can throw caution to the wind and buy lose leaves of paper.
I grew up in the computer generation, so anything I handwrite usually looks like someone dipped an epileptic spider in ink and then strobed the bejebus out of it. My thoughts don’t originate in a linear fashion...by the time I’ve finished a sentence I’ve already thought of a revision for it in my head. I need a folder, I need dividers, and I need a pad of paper. I also need a strong drink and a dance! Friday night—Vamos!
Monday 27th September
The sun didn’t feel that strong yesterday, but today I felt awful and drained. I got a library membership today, and I’m really happy that you can rent DVD’s for free from Madrid's libraries!
I went to do a private tuition session for the first time today. Trying to find the family’s house was really stressful as the sign with the road name was obscured by a rogue palm frond. Also, the direction in which I was walking afforded no shade whatsoever, and the sun beat down on me mercilessly.
After, I went to a Couchsurfing potluck dinner, and met some really nice young people. There were quite a few Americans there, and they seemed to think I was really cool, merely by being British. I suppose to a certain extent we’re all fascinated by what we deem exotic, but I’ve never really been thought of as “cool” in my own country. I don’t really feel comfortable if people assume that I’m better than them in some way. To enjoy such attentions just feels fraudulent.
Tuesday, 28th September
I felt ill, so I left school early, and went to study in the library. On the walk home, I fainted, hitting my sternum against a bike stand jutting out of the pavement, skinning my knees pretty badly. A really kind lady came over to see if I was ok, and hearing my conspicuous foreign accent, pointed at the sky and said “mucho calor”. It was only at this point that I linked my feelings of vileness to the fact that I must have been getting dangerously dehydrated.
I don’t know how I managed to make it home to Mirta’s house. I rested twice on the 10 minute walk home, and immediately drank a rehydration satchet. It tasted horrendous, but things that are good for you usually do.
Wednesday, 29th September
Today we had the day off school due to the general strike of the transport drivers, which was lucky as I didn’t feel like getting out of bed and facing the sun!
I hate the summer as I have really white legs which I would much prefer to cover AT ALL TIMES, but when it comes to higher temperatures girls like me are faced with two choices...either show the pale skin to the public, or collapse from heat exhaustion. I don't think Ill be choosing the latter again!
I went to see an apartment today. I still felt really dizzy from being ill, but I managed to navigate my way from the metro to the place. A really tall guy called Fernando showed me around, and then we all sat in the living room for my "interview", which I hadn't expected. I have absolutely no idea what I said, but they said "they would contact me" if I made the shortlist (which I think is pretty unlikely!). The room is free from the the 1st of next month anyway, so it's no good to me.
Thursday, 30th September
Pointlessly stressful day. Went all the way across town to meet Rosario, who is a landlady that is affiliated to the school where I have been studying. I couldn’t find her at the place we had decided to meet, and my phone ran out of battery en route so I couldn’t call her either. The word "frustrated" doesn't quite cover it!
Some people from the same building thought I was there to see their flat, and ushered me upstairs. Their flat was large and a pack of small energetic dogs greeted us upon arrival, but luckily you could not smell them due to the standard cloud of cigarette smoke (Love cats. Hate dogs. The End.). They spoke more English than I spoke Spanish, and after about 20 minutes they realised that I was not there to see their free room and sent me on my way.
When I got home, I had to go straight out again to teach the 5 year old boy English. It was not a very productive session as he got very excitable and seems to have no interest in reading WHATSOEVER. I don’t have experience with small children (why won't they just grow up goddamit?) and I’m not really sure how to motivate him to read...I’ll have to ask someone for advice on this problem.
After the class I went to the bar to practice my Spanish. The bartender was really rude to me so I left. It seems to be a common assumption in general that non-Spanish girls come here to learn Spanish from the beds of local men. At first, this joke isn’t offensive, but once you hear it over and over again and see how it affects people’s behaviour towards you (like old men doing a drive-by shouting of “guapa” at you when you least expect it because you look like a foreigner) it becomes a tad tiresome.
I haven’t heard from the school, or the bilingual co-ordinators, or British Council, but Mirta advised me to arrive at 9am at the school tomorrow and go and speak to someone. Hopefully as it is a bilingual school someone will speak enough English to point me in the right direction. Fingers crossed?
