Buena pinta : un año en España

Roll along; there's nothing to see here.

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Sat, 05 Jul 2008 19:50:00 +0000

I'm sure that by now, everyone knows that Spain won.

After an overnight train to Frankfurt, waiting around in Chicago all day, I've finally made it back home (with a sweet tax refund from the Spanish government to boot.) If you're heading to Madrid anytime soon, you might check out a few favorite places. And while you're at it, why don't you join the community as well?

If that's not your thing, then I have a few other choice links that may provide some sort of information and/or entertainment:

Vegan Foodism - Pretty self-explanatory, no?
No Good For Me - Witty fashion/pop culture blog.

Or maybe you want to read:

Or perhaps you'd much rather find the closest body of water and relax. In any case, thanks for reading, and wish me luck as I prepare for the next chapter. As a friend says, "Viva poor grad student life!"

Seeing stars

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 12:13:00 +0000

Seeng as how I had little time before I left for good, I thought I'd go out with a bang: Granada. I had originally planned to visit in March until I lost my camera. Echoing Icaza, the trip down south might not have been worth it if I couldn't record its beauty.

Luckily, a friend gave me his, and so off I went to enjoy my last weekend in Spain. A relatively smooth five-hour bus ride later, I was deposited at the city of a certain palace-fortress and a reknowned poet. The hostel was located in the Albayzin, making for a lot of narrow, windy streets, and the usual rowdiness associated with twentysomething revelmakers. Despite this (and finding out that I'm allergic to peanuts--long story), I managed to relax and take advantage of the local offerings, including the famous Alhambra.

I'm going to assume that most of the few people who read this blog have either been to the Alhambra or at least have seen photos/read literature that sings its praises, so I won't even go there. Let me just say this: it's definitely one of the maddeningly, achingly beautiful places I've ever experienced in my short life thus far. In true Bill & Ted fashion, dudes, it totally blew my mind! Of course, I took a ton of pictures, though none will truly capture its glory.

After spending most of my allotted time at the Alhambra, I mostly just wandered, as I'm wont to do, especially as a lone traveler. I forgot how hot it can get in Andalucia in the summer, so I was melting and was ready to pass out even before I made it back down to the Plaza Nueva. Among the treats that remedied this constant problem was an ice cream from Los Italianos (overheard as the "most famous" heladeria in Granada city) and an "antioxidant" smoothie from a random juice bar near the cathedral. As friends will be able to tell you, finding a smoothie was no small feat, considering that I've searched high and low for that perfect fruity antidote to the summer heat. After properly quenching my thirst, I was mostly all smiles (at least on the inside!) and didn't care (too much) that no one ever bothered to say "Excuse me" as they brusquely brush past you, that I was overcharged at a terraza ("Disculpa, no pedi tres jarras!"), or even that my bus back to Madrid was overbooked, forcing me to get on the next one an hour later and pushing my return to one o'clock in the morning.

Maybe it's a stretch, but I give props to the smoothie anyway for endowing me with enough confidence to write an hoja de reclamacion, my first full-length composition in Spanish since my school days.

Now I find myself quite tired because I haven't given myself any rest para reponder las fuerzas. It's just been non-stop errand-running and farewell-bidding, which wouldn't be too bad, if I wasn't just now recuperating from the illness I developed over the weekend. Good thing that it wasn't too debilitating as to impede me from getting things done...or else I wouldn't have had a very random sighting of Gael Garcia Bernal (and a girl who looked like Michelle Williams) at FNAC.

I tell ya, it was quite a fortuitious event. I'd been stalling on buying First Aid Kit's Plaits (the Barcelona duo's sophomore effort) and the much-touted Russian Red's debut, I Love Your Glasses, but I figured that since they've been on oferta forever, that I could wait until the last minute. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing on Tuesday; I was down around Sol and I had no desire whatsoever to find myself there again before I left, so I figured why I just not pop in to FNAC and pick up the albums.

20 or so minutes later, I'm riding the elevator to the ground floor, gleeful about the CDs and also the copy of a French literature magazine (really, that's the title) with a feature on English novelists, when I happen to glance to my left and notice a very cute, sort of floppy-, raven-haired boy with thick black glasses. He looks A LOT like Gael Garcia, I thought to myself. Before I walk out of the west doors by the steps up to the digital camera section, I spin back around and realize that it is Gael Garcia, as I watch him absentmindedly sign a notebook a girl had given him. In a frantic rush, I call same smoothie-loving friend, walking in circles and stalking from the same position for another 15 minutes, babbling and repeating myself.

I wonder why no one else recognizes him and understand that perhaps some folks to do, but don't want to disturb his privacy. Like me, maybe they want to stalk in close vicinity. Y'know, like Michelangelo's "David," look, but don't touch. We debate on whether or not I should approach him and whether or not I ought to take a picture (my camera has a great zoom!), though we agree that it was best to gawk (however discreetly) from afar and rather, pledge our ultra-nerdiness online. As you can see, in no way does this prevent me from sharing the "news" with all who'll listen, even the ones who've never heard of the actor, or who don't care, through whatever means. More than being starstruck--which I obviously was/am--I'm reminded that "celebrity" is created, a process of which us "mortals" are part and parcel. By this, I mean to say that celebrities have power insofar as we accord it to them. With this philosophy, one would think that it would've been easy to approach Gael, but at this juncture you readers should know that I have communication deficiencies ESPECIALLY with utterly beautiful people, so I probably would've just done like Lars and run away, or worse, pull a Stan. Best to keep this one as a nice memory, I'd say.

Snapshot

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 17:00:00 +0000

Just a quick note to let folks know (if you didn't already) that tomorrow is the Noche de la Fotografía. I'm sure lots of places have offerings to coincide with PHOTOEspaña, but it seems like the bulk of tomorrow night's festivities will be happening in the Barrio de las Letras/Huertas. Also, if you're in Alcalá de Henares, make sure to check out the Henri Cartier-Bresson exhibit at the Antiguo Hospital de Santa María la Rica, near the Cathedral.

Keep on' truckin'

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 20:55:00 +0000

So I've had my fair share of convivencia troubles, including getting ripped off on gastos, a windowless room, and having to withhold certain bodily fluids as my roommate got it on in her room. You see, I must traverse it in order to reach the facilities.

I think of these things as a series of life lessons I just have to get over, deal with, and hopefully, never again encounter in the future. Unlike many of the auxiliares I've met, I came to Spain not because I've been in love with it. I came because I had no idea what I was doing with myself, besides "tolerating" two semi-tolerable, part-time customer service jobs that were admittedly not "stimulating" enough More importantly, I wasn't able to make ends meet.

Without going into specific details, it's safe to say that auxiliar wages alone wouldn't be able to sustain a family. I'm privileged in this sense. There are no dependents to take care of. Financially speaking, I'm the only one I have to worry about.

This is a big reason why I'm not renewing my contract. Granted, it's nowhere near a pauper's life, especially since I "treat" myself quite often. However, it's THE future gnawing at me, that other world where there are people whose needs must be considered--nay, met--before my own, and although I have "years ahead of me," I feel like time is ticking and I must get cracking.

Besides (I'm repeating myself, of course), I'm just not in love with Spain. I don't even love it, really. Like might even be a tad too strong. When the future plays out, I don't imagine it here. I tried to explain this sentiment to a friend, but I just ended up shuddering.

My opinion has obviously been colored by sour experiences. They're the ones that we long to forget but always remember. Had I taken up the assistantship in Paris or were thre one in Berlin, I would've probably felt much the same after a few misunderstandings/misgivings, and this is why those lieblingsstaedte will always be imagined. I "know" them insofar as I've kept memories of them. This is how San Sebastian, for example, appears to me, too.

The bubble soon burts, is there anything positive I can say about my stint? Of course, and the obvious would include the assistantship (I've been quite fortunate with the teacher and the children), the people I've met, the food that I've eaten, the amelioration of my Spanish, extensive public transport, etc. On a (somewhat? purely?) superficial level, though, I mean to present a not-so-random list of things I've enjoyed thus far (or lately). So, without further ado, they are>

1. Pasajes International Bookstore (C/Genova, M: Alonso Martinez)
Every time I consider NOT doing languages as a career, a quick browse changes my mind, and I race back home (or to the nearest locutorio and, say, find the difference between an umlaut and a diaeresis.

2. Beautiful plazas on beautiful sunny days.
Olavide is a general favorite, and I also like the nearby Plaza de Chamberi. You don't even have to get drinks. Just park yourself on a bench with a book.

3. Speaking of public places, I really like the Parque de Berlin in Chamartin, especially towards the eastern end. You try to figure out why.

4. Living in the city exposes you to a really vibrant cultural scene. I suppose New Yorkers and folks from other metropolises already knew this. I'm not just talking about the Big Three (Prado, Reina Sofia, Thyssen-Bornemisza), either. Mad is Mad (C/Pelayo, M: Chueca) is a funny little gallery, and of course, when it comes to exhibits, CaixaForum might give La Casa Encendida and Fundacion Caja Madrid a run for their money. Coming up: Noche de la Fotografia, next Friday.

5. Two really wonderful vegetarian-friendly (not too sure about vegans) eateries are Zoe (C/Santa Maria) and Viva La Vida (C/Huertas), both at M: Anton Martin. The first is, again, a Berlin-inspired cafe/gallery, which sounds intimidating to a neurotic like me, but the food is so good (with ingredients from the nearby market) that I've been my fair share of times. The desserts are always especially interesting, with tangerine sorbet or a really tasty strudel. Viva la Vida is a veggie buffet/shop that charges you by the gram. It's quite small, but the lady is always super friendly and for 7,-EUR you can easily fill up.

Those are only some of the things I can think of off the top of my head, as I'm sure I have more to share. As I'm leaving in two weeks, I wanted at least one of my last posts to be lighter and dhowcase what I've come to like in/about Madrid, instead of my usual "quarter-life crisis" musings. I'm well aware that I haven't spent "enough" time in Madrid to get to know it like the palm of my hand, nor have I really exerced the effort to befriend any locals. That I'm not much of a social butterfly isn't the issue nor was my goal to be integrated into the Spanish social fabric. Instead, I'd been looking for some answers, only to meet with more questions.

That time of the year

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Wed, 28 May 2008 17:00:00 +0000

After a trimester or so of preparation, most of my second-years at my school finally took their Trinity spoken English exams today. I say "most," because there were a few kids who weren't prepared to even sit in on a first-level interview, who have difficulties even in Spanish, and stare at you blankly when you ask their name or their age. At the extreme end of the pole, there were a handful of children who took the level three exams. The rest sat in on level two's.

Calling a five-minute interview an "exam," implies all sorts of things, but I continued to refer to it as such so that the children might take it more seriously and aim for their best. The truth of the matter, however, is that we (myself and the teacher) were probably more nervous than the kids put together. I understand that education is a multifaceted process, but you can't help but feel like somewhat of a failure when an eight-year-old can't tell you about the color of his eyes.

For the most part, I tried not to sweat it. I'm familiar with each student's strengths and weaknesses, and I think I've done a fair job of working around both, of encouraging them to aim as high as they can. Whether or not the kids pass the exam and receive a certificate is clearly not up to me. In the end, it is just a piece of paper. There are myriad ways to buld confidence, and I just hope that they develop a healthy sense of it. And maybe--just maybe--they'll find a use for English and other languages, too.

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Fri, 16 May 2008 15:15:00 +0000

Although I still have a month left in the program, I've been preparing for my impending departure. I neatly folded the winter clothes I'm planning to put in the Caja Verde box I got from the post office, the very same one I'll get around to mailing once I figure out where to get packing tape. Of course, this should be a painless, stress-free errand but if like me you were unsure of the correct term (Word Reference gives me both cinta and sello) and your confidence in your Spanish-speaking skills are virtually nil (even after years of study), then you can appreciate why this turns out to be quite the herculean task.

This afternoon I went into an organizing frenzy, in an attempt to sort out all of the things I've collected in the past eight months. Hmm, do I really need the card for this restaurant/bookshop/etc that I'll probably never visit again?, I asked myself. Do I need the brochure for an exhibit that was over in NOVEMBER? Un/fortunately, I'm the type that keeps such trinkets, only to discard them during the next move.

However, that won't happen for at least another few years. I'm going back to school in the fall, to join a two-year MA program in linguistics. This was one of the primary reasons why I "escaped" to Spain in the first place. After having applied to grad school a few times, I wasn't quite sure whether or not if the program--or even more academia--was right for me. I obviously love learning languages, but I could relate a linguistics degree solely to teaching.

Ironic, isn't it, that I went abroad to work in a school setting? There have been many days where I think that I could go ahead and get my licensure in elementary school teaching. Indeed, many of the best experiences I've had during this stint involve the two groups of second-years with whom I work. The children never fail to elicit a smile from me even when I'm feeling down, grumpy, or homesick. When I look back on Spain when I step off the airplane or a few years down the line, the kids are who I'll remember the most.

Now, does this mean I would make a "good" teacher? Not necessarily. Of course, I'd also have to want to be teacher, and at this point, my heart's still not in it. Apparently, I belong to the generation that's been taught to follow our dreams (or so says the NY Times) rather than have practical pursuits. It's true to some extent. My parents never push me to do anything (nor am I an exceptionally driven person). They accept me for who I am, and for the most part, support my projects. I'm very fortunate in that I'm also able to coynsult them, eslpecially at a stage where I'm beginning to make "crucial life choices."

This brings me back to teaching: sure, it's not my dream (I'm romantic), but it will put food on the table (so to speak). I've been literally losing sleep over this dilemma because I want to have my cake and it eat it, too. I want to live off of an artistic craft. However slowly it may seem though, I'm facing the facts. I need a job. That will allow me to be ially self-sufficient. The thing is that I'm just don't have artistic gifts, at least, not enough talent from which to eke out a life. My cohorts from my punk rock days (haha! you'd think I was born with a mohawk and leather jacket!) would think this sentiment bourgeois, but all I ask for is a position that would allow me to continue enjoying my hobbies and, someday, buy a house.

(Among others, the song "Handshakes" by Metric addresses this cycle of drudgery: Buy this car to drive to work, drive to work to pay for this car...)

In other words, I spent time abroad...just to figure this out? It's a shame that my head's more muddled now than when I left last September. In a land of endless lo haré mañanas, I still haven't learned to relax.

On strike!

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Tue, 06 May 2008 15:30:00 +0000

By chance, I browsed through a copy of 20 Minutos, one of the free dailies handed out at the metro, on the way to work. It's sad to say, but I'm usually not alert enough in the morning to glance at anything but headlines succinctly describing faits divers. A crime here, a scandal there. There will be partly cloudy weather and perhaps yet another celebrity will adorn their child yet another ultra unique name.

And here I thought I had it bad.

I guess I've been really out of the loop, because tomorrow will see a general strike calling Madrid-area teachers to protest against the privatization of education. You know the story, so let's cut to chase: less funding for public schools.

This translates to decreasing attraction, in more than one way. I'm not familiar with the kind of training a teacher would need to work in a concertado or a full private school, but obtaining a post at a public school is definitely a case of demand overrunning supply. If it's "easier" to work at the former (what would you need in terms of qualifications?), then it probably makes sense to forego the latter, unless it's really what you are keen on. (Like I said, I don't know much about the teaching professions, in Spain or even in the U.S., so if someone can enlighten me, please feel free.)

Families are also opting out of public education due to lack of materials and space. From my own experience, the teacher with whom I work sometimes has to pay out of her own pocket for things that the children use on a daily basis such as pencils and erasers; other times, the expenses are for art projects. My school is slowly "modernizing," too; a small screen for the assembly hall and a new photocopier are some of the items on the agenda. In the last few months, they've been reconfiguring some rooms on the first floor to accommodate the incoming third classes of first- and second-years, respectively (usually, there are only two in each level).

Keeping this in mind, it then makes sense for some families to pay for more, better resources. If they can afford it, why not, right? On the other hand, it brings up the familiar problem of a kind of socioeconomic flight which Katie Profunda had brought up a while back. Spain has surely come a long way towards diversity, but it has many more miles to go.

In the end, you may wonder if I myself am going on strike tomorrow. The answer is an unequivocal no; since I'm a mere assistant, therefore not a teacher, therefore not a civil servant, it's my job to stay. Only two teachers from my school are protesting, and the rest, like the teacher with whom I work, because it's the children who matter.

(Image: Rini Templeton)

A broad abroad

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 15:51:00 +0000

If I'm running out of a select item--something easily portable--I usually stop by the Mercadona on my walk home from the metro station. Today was a slight change, as I didn't limit myself to just the necessities. After months of eyeing them in stores, I finally caved and bought my first package of Filipinos, mainly due to curiosity, but also, um, because of that publicidad featuring Mom and Dinosaur Jr. (not the band).

My thinking went along the lines of, Heeyyyy, I'm Filipino(a), and even though this is (more than) kind of odd, I'm willing to try this novelty snack item that's (again, kind of) weird (backhand) evidence of the long relationship between my temporary adopted country and the one of birth.

I was also won over by the fact that the Filipinos were significantly cheaper than the Oreos on the next shelf.

When I got home, it occurred to me why the Filipinos were more affordable: I had inadvertently picked up the pack of minis! I felt stupid. How was I supposed to gallivant dinosaur-style, as it were, from the kitchen to the living room, without the regular, donut-shaped goods in my hands?

I had duped myself. More importantly, I proved to be the perfect consumer. While I'm not quite the cookie fanatic, I still went ahead and made the purchase because the brand spoke to me. A Filipino eating a Filipino. A chocolate-covered white biscuit. A variation on the past: a banana, a Twinkie. Coincidence and irony.

According to this Wikipedia article, the current Filipino cookies were inspired by rosquillos from the Visayas, hence the props. Rosquillo itself comes from the Spanish rosca, i.e. ring, as does the chocolate coating.

Homage or not, however, Filipino cookies still rub me the wrong way, so that was my first and last package. I know, it's just food! I'm nevertheless not the only one who had issues with it. A decade ago The Philippine government was wondering more or less the same. Obviously, nothing ever came of it, which makes me wonder about the popularity of the cookies.

On the other hand, I don't doubt the extensive Filipino presence here. As in, the people. It's not exactly as cohesive--ok, well-known--as the Chinese community, but I've definitely identified more Filipinos out and about than my home state (obviously neither California nor New York). Clearly, MetroMadrid a) agrees that there is a significant Filipino community here, b) suggest that Madrileños (of Filipino descent or not) are conscious of it, too. In recent months, they've circulated (a much shorter version of) the following commercial:

As with the cookies, I was mostly surprised when I first saw this ad, waiting for the movies at one of the Cines Renoir. For once, I didn't have to read the subtitles. I even giggled; nos ha queda'o igualito. In a few months, I will also be that balikbayan (twice removed) recounting my adventures in Spain. You can bet that one of the things I'll be championing will be the subway.

Upon further chance viewings, my frowns grew wider. Yes, the Philippines is a country in development. Yes, many Filipinos continue to lead the agrarian live. Yes, many Filipinos have the tendency to imitate, emulate "Western" ways.

And yes, I understand that overall, it is just a publicity campaign for MetroMadrid, like the Filipino cookies are just...cookies. MetroMadrid's commercial is a witty, even charming statement on the cleanliness and efficiency of Western Europe's third-largest system. What pueblo--Spanish, Filipino, or otherwise--wouldn't want one of their own? Maybe I am reading too much into things (thank you, cultural studies). I just hope that folks don't take it too much at face value because whether we like it or not, some of us still retain fragments of that colonial mentality.

(Image: Wikipedia)

Spring is in the air

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 21:10:00 +0000

It's hard to be depressed when it's ridiculously beautiful outside. Since I've been kind of--natch, mostly--down on myself as well as my time thus far in Spain, I thought I'd do a complete 360 and attempt to cheer up a bit by presenting my scant readers a list of some of my personal Madrid favorites:

* Terrazas -- With the good weather about, all the gastronomic establishments are busting out the outdoor seating. Gaudeamus in Lavapies is a perennial favorite, but unfortunately, they only open up in the afternoon on weekdays, at 8 on Saturdays, and are--gasp!--closed on Sundays. On weekends, I like any of the places giving out to the Plaza de Olavide.

* Los Alpes -- Because this ice cream shop can make any flavor into a very delicious shake for 3,20EUR, and because I can walk to it, and because it's not yet packed with the summer crowd.

* Panta Rhei -- My preferred design bookshop in all of Madrid. The owners/employees are nice, help you when you need it, and otherwise leave you alone to peruse the excellent selection. Sure, it's all expensive, but it's a great place for inspiration.

* CD Drome -- Caters to (most of) my music needs. Again, browse for hours! And if I can't find it, there's that behemoth in Callao.

* Mingote -- I've personally never seen the illustrious illustrator's work on paper, but its city-wide presence never fails to elsmile. Find the drawings on the facade of a building on Duque de Osuna, behind the staircase near Plaza de España, on C/Sal in Las Austrias, and in the Retiro metro station platforms.

* Centros culturales - A great and cheap way to get your kicks in your own neighborhood. In April, for example, my local center will be offering a slew of conferences, concerts, a few exhibits, and even a weekend guided hike in Cuenca.

More to come when I think of it.

C'est la vie

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 18:23:00 +0000

After work today, I headed to the airport to file a claim for a lost item through Air Europa. I went against my own will, let's say, and only because I had been given the telephone run around the previous night, passed on to one office from another. I must've asked for Lost and Found a million times, and was constantly referred to Luggage Services, who kept passing me to a different office.

Afterwards I tried to see if I couldn't send a message by email. Even if it took weeks for a reply, at least I would have proof of an attempt at reconciliation. And, of course, something was wrong with either both of my browsers (Firefox and IE) or something was wrong with the website, and of course, there was no other way to send an email besides filling out a form.

Exasperated, I once called the general customer service number and tried to explain my situation (calmly, because the loss is my fault.)

The very patient woman on the other line recommended that I call the various numbers that I'd already dialed, and to make my way to Barajas to file a reclamación in person. So, off I went, asked one of three representatives at the service desk. Of course, she had to direct me to the adjacent office...that was closed. I hightailed it to the metro and sulked all the way home.

Sure, there were a lot of unfortunate though overall insignificant occurrences during what was supposed to be a relaxing week and a half off. I became upset, but quickly got over it and "dealt."

Losing my camera is another matter.

All the little things kept piling up, and this was just the icing on the cake. I've not yet given up on retrieving the camera, although I keep trying to convince myself that it's "just" a camera, that I've done without one before, that it's one among many items that I can do without, but that's not the point. For the lone, introverted traveler like myself, the camera (much like my journal) is an important tool for documentation. For memory.

I don't necessarily want to boast about where I've been, or what I've seen; I just want to remember.

It may be foolish to hope for its reappearance, magically or not. The friend I visited during this trip jokingly referred to karma, and despite being the skeptic that I am, I wonder if she may not be right. If luck has anything to do it with it, then mine's definitely been skewed.

(Image: From a mousepad available here)

Collective nouns

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 17:24:00 +0000

Semana Santa can't come any sooner. You can tell that everyone--from the staff to the children--are ready for a break. I don't doubt that there's some sort of sordid telenovela-ish tale going on at about every school, as there's definitely been a fair share of intrigue at mine. And everyone is painfully aware that, unfortunately, no drama is complete without preconceived notions, miscommunication, and outright exaggerations. An "us" against "them," and lately, "me" against "you" mentality that's slowly festering the halls.

P, one of the women who's doing her practicas at my school, asked me if some of the assistants had been making fun of one of the teachers during the morning break. Nervous, I chuckled lightly, and tried to explain that the laughter had a "background story," that it was all in "good fun," and that, actually, we were also laughing at one of our fellow assistants. Somehow, this led P to remark that for the most part, we assistants (at my school, anyway) keep to ourselves, occupying one corner of the humonguous staff table like a knight occupying a chessboard, speaking in our rapid English and not bothering to commiserate with the rest of the staff.

I nodded in agreement. Everything she outlined was spot on. I offered that some of us perhaps felt too awkward, too intimidated to speak in Spanish, or that there were maybe cultural or--more likely--generational differences, as only three teachers are under 30. I was aware that P didn't mean to be on the attack. She was just stating the obvious. The more I reasoned, however, the more it seemed like I was making excuses for our proclivity for comfort, for the familiar. So, I let "slip" that there also seemed to be, or at least, there had been, some unresolved "issues" between teachers, and between teachers and their assistants.

I left it at that because I've been pretty much oblivious to the hostilities. I work with the program coordinator, with two groups of second-years, and from what I can tell, we're getting along fine. There's no scandal, so to speak, no heinous crime committed. So, the only time I am brought back "in the loop," is when one assistant confides in another and I just happen to be in the same room. By dint of recording events, however vaguely, I am indeed involved. Because I'm in the same room half-listening to this would-be intimate conversation I'm involved. And because I'm also an assistant, also a foreigner in self-exile, I'm sometimes roped into agreeing, as an act of solidarity. "Us" against "them," "me" against "you."

Truth is, nobody knows the whole truth, just fragments. She said, he said, they said, but that's not what I heard!

Exhausting, but kind of unavoidable. I wanted to explain, not apologize. I wanted to share with P that the laughter was more complicated than a mere jab, that it wasn't about that specific teacher, or any of the staff, really. More about "us," than "them," whoever we may be.

(Image: Learning Page)

RV: Mensaje sobre renovaciones

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Mon, 03 Mar 2008 20:23:00 +0000

De: LLANEZA VILLANUEVA, JOSE AURELIO
Enviado el: lunes, 03 de marzo de 2008 11:08
Para: FERRER ALVAREZ, SALVADOR
Asunto: Mensaje sobre renovaciones

Mensaje importante para todos los auxiliares que quieren quedarse un segundo año:

Para la renovación, hay ciertos documentos que tendréis que aportar. Os rogamos que, si es posible, los llevéis a la reunión del día 7. Si no los podéis conseguir todos antes del viernes, por favor llevad todos los que podáis. Si estáis interesados en quedaros otro año pero no podéis ir a la reunión, puede ir otra persona en vuestro nombre y llevar la documentación. A continuación tenéis una lista de los documentos que debéis llevar a la reunión:

* Curríclum Vitae e instancia con la solicitud de participación en el programa de auxiliares de conversación. Tenéis que ir a la página web:
https://segucert.mec.es/profex/jsp/login/login.do?identificadoEnLaAplicacion=no. Después de registraros en el sistema, tenéis que completar vuestro C.V. e imprimirlo. La copia impresa de este C.V. es el primer documento que tenéis que aportar para la renovación. También tenéis que completar e imprimir la instancia de solicitud de participación en el programa de auxiliares de conversación que también encontraréis en esta página web. En esta instancia debéis especificar que se trata de una renovación de la Comunidad de Madrid.

* Copia de la tarjeta de residencia en vigor

* Copia del pasaporte

* Carta de aproximadamente 300 palabras en las que expliquéis las razones por las que os gustaría quedaros un año mas.

Aceptaremos las solicitudes de todos los que quieran renovar siempre que el director o directora del colegio estén de acuerdo. Después de saber los nombres de los que queréis continuar, hablaremos con vuestros directores para preguntarles si apoyan la renovación.

Un cordial saludo,

J.Aurelio Llaneza
Asesor Técnico Docente
Consejería de Educación, COMUNIDAD DE MADRID

Thank you, global warming!

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Sun, 02 Mar 2008 18:19:00 +0000

Spring seems to have sprung prematurely, and as foul a mood as I have been in lately, it hasn't take long to desist. Indeed, I often feel guilty if I dare to do nothing, overcome with the concept of "wasting time." Why have I not yet been to Sevilla? Gijón? Cuenca? Or El Escorial, for that matter?! It seems as though half my decisions are predicated on the fact that my time here is limited, but let's face it: I'm a homebody, wherever I am. Especially now that I've found more habitable digs, I prefer to stay in within the confines of my temporary home.

On the other hand, I do believe that I've opened myself to a lot more in my short time here than I have stateside. For instance, I walk a lot, and often. This may not be much of a big deal, but after years of living in a car culture, walking a little under two miles "just" to get bagels is actually a welcome respite. Sometimes I'll check out exhibits or live shows or simply sit in a favorite coffeeshop and read. Such trivialities, perhaps, though for me requires a lot of effort.

As far as making friends goes, I admit that I'm still quite cautious, and don't like to "bond by default," due to shared nationality or cultural interests, for example. On most days, I would prefer to hang out with dogs. Folks here may say that no se relaciona bien con gente but I've definitely tried my hand at being more sociable, precisely because I don't have the "support network" that is my family and friends. In steps, of course.

Don't worry; I'm not so insular as to think that loneliness is a condition unique to me. I'm also aware that complaints are null if I don't try to reach out to others.

So, what solution(s) would I propose, then?

I'll take it in strides, I guess. I'll continue to do as I do, and if someone wants to join me for a shake at Los Alpes, all the better.

urgente cancelación reunión día 29

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Thu, 28 Feb 2008 14:21:00 +0000

Os comunicamos que la reunión que se iba a celebrar mañana en el Salón de Actos de la Dirección de Área Territorial de Madrid-Capital en la C/ Vitruvio, 2 ha sido cancelada. Todos los que queráis repetir un año más como Auxiliares debéis acudir a la otra reunión que estaba convocada el viernes 7 de marzo a las 11 en el mismo lugar.

Rogamos nos disculpéis por la urgencia de este aviso, pero ha surgido un imprevisto que nos impide celebrar la reunión de mañana.

Un cordial saludo.

University teaching opportunity

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 12:46:00 +0000

De: LLANEZA VILLANUEVA, JOSE AURELIO
Enviado el: jueves, 21 de febrero de 2008 11:01
Para: FERRER ALVAREZ, SALVADOR
Asunto: Mensaje urgente para auxiliares

SI estáis interesados en colaborar algunos sábados hasta el final del curso en Universidades de Madrid, por favor, enviadme un correo electrónico urgentemente. Todavía no sabemos los días concretos, pero sí sabemos que estaríais en la Universidad de 9:30 a 19:30 y que se os pagaría 100 euros por cada sábado. No tengo más información de momento, pero muy pronto me pondré en contacto con los interesados para daros más detalles.

Un saludo,
Aurelio

My first Berlinale

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 20:35:00 +0000

Being somewhat of a film fan, I thought that attending a festival would be one of the ultimate in cinephilic acts (besides making my own movie, of course). The ones in Cannes and Venice are both private, and though I lived in close proximity for many years, I had never made to Telluride or Sundance. Nor did I make to San Sebastian last year, having arrived in Spain only few a days after the festival closed. So when a chance to spend a long weekend at one of what the International Federation of Film Producers Associations calls an "A festival"--and one of the only "name" ones open to the public--I jumped right in.

And why not? I've been fortunate enough to have visited Berlin a few times, and I obviously wouldn't return if I didn't have any good experiences. I admit, it's precisely because I come as a tourist that I have a "good time," that the city retains its romance. I don't pretend to "know" Berlin, nor expect it to be representative of Germany, but I nevertheless enjoy wandering its streets, watching its people, soaking up its history and culture, its constant reinvention, and simply put, just being there. In other words, Berlin is a place where I don't mind being alone (though I like it quite a lot that it's a pity not to experience it with others).

Berlin is apparently also a fantastic place to see movies, and not just for Berlinale, although this was the primary reason for my recent visit. On my way to Loos Ornamental, a documentary about the Austrian architect Adolf Loos, I passed by a score of paparazzi.

"GAEELLLLLLLLLLLLL!"
"NATTTTTTTTALLLLLIIEEEEEEEE!"
"SCCCCCCARRRRRRLLLLLLLLLLLETTTTT!"

Nothing registered until I saw Eric Bana signing a few autographs.

I settled into my incredibly plush chair at one of the CineStar rooms in Potsdamer Platz's Sony Center and felt my heart beat faster as the curtains rose and the familiar Berlinale bear appeared on the screen to introduce the documentary. I would spend most of the day in the same complex, with two more movies, and a break in between, to grab a bite across the way at the Arkaden.

On Saturday, I chose to see only one movie, in order not to strain my eyes for the whopper--five movies--on Sunday. The nerdy me checked out the weather prior to leaving Madrid, and as it forecasted sunny, I preferred to spend the rest of the day outside. Part of the new German cinema program, Die Dinge zwischen uns, was about a more-or-less straight-laced woman who goes to great lengths to preserve her "normalcy," and turned out to more enjoyable than I thought. Again, another very comfortable screening in a yet another plush chair--this time, mint green, with matching curtains for the screen.

It was still quite early when I left the theater, so I took a quick jaunt down Schoenhauser Allee and onto some side street trying to find this bag shop with the innovative concept of removable flaps. The square it looked on to was busy with children, the surrounding cafes and shops full of buzz and smells of late lunches wafting from windows, a moment where I wished a friend or two were with me.

I wished the same thing later that night, waiting at the Lido in Kreuzberg for a show to start. With no one to talk to, I killed time with my iPod, making a waiting room tracklist of sorts; luckily, there were only five before the masses were called into the main room. More dance songs and scores of people jammed into a very tight space, very good-looking, very tall people, many, many well-dressed women. We were all waiting for the main act, who proved to be quite charming, quite pleasant and entertained the crowd with not one, but THREE encore acts, the last two solo. After a fourth request, he graciously thanked the crowd once more, but apologized that he wouldn't unable to fulfill it, lest he passed out. We understood and slowly dispersed.

Sunday, my last day, was my big cinema day. The only available screening of Be Kind Rewind, the new Michel Gondry, was at 10:30, and since I was so excited to see it, I woke up two hours too early. I took the opportunity to once again wander up and down Mitte, peering into shop windows and taking a few photographs when I could. I wasn't too worried about getting to the Berlinale Palast, where the movie was being screened, as there were assigned seats. Mine was great, a center seat in one of the central rows, and as I would find out later, in the pit.

Unfortunately, Be Kind Rewind was the only movie for which I was awake throughout its duration. I nodded off here and there during the following three movies, and didn't even make it to the last one because I knew I'd be too sleepy and tired for the 20-minute U-bahn ride back to the hostel. Before I even realized that Zou You, about a divorced couple who need to procreate in order to help their sick child, had German--and not English--subtitles, I was already aching to crawl into bed.

Lessons learned, probably common sense, in random order:
- Try to buy tickets online for "priority" movies.
Online sales are limited. So, by the time I got to Berlin to get a ticket for any screening of the The Other Boleyn Girl, nothing was available. Scheiße.

- Discounts rule.
Sunday was designated Kinotag--spectator day--for any movie, at any theater. Therefore, reduced price. Also half-off for students and seniors for same-day shows. Although I'm technically no longer a student, I still could've purchased Friday's tickets for 3,-eur/each instead of paying full price, if only my estudiante NIE was on me, and not at the hostel!

- Try to space out shows.
For one of the screenings, I sat in the aisle seat, near the entrance. I timed the U-bahn ride from Potsdamer Platz to Alexanderplatz to take between 15-20 minutes, but I was sure cutting it close from the Wolfgang Tillmans documentary, ending at 2:30 and Sweet Food City starting at 3:00. Also: no more than three movies a day, if I can do it.

The main point: plan better. And had my schedule allowed it--that is, if I had no work obligations--I would've attended the festival during it's two-and-a-half week entirety. I would have a wider selection of movies, screenings, and probably wouldn't fall asleep. Oh well; there's always next year.

(Image: Cinema Without Borders)

Never sleep in a room with nine other people

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Fri, 15 Feb 2008 08:26:00 +0000

After giving myself a runaround in the S-Bahn, I finally made it to the hostel I'd booked for the night. A quarter to midnight is still early in Spanish for terms, but being on the plane for a few hours, schlepping my luggage up and down flights of stairs, I was quite eager to crawl into bed. I trudged sleepily to the hostel entrance a few doors down, only to be informed by the sign that if no one was at reception, I oughta backtrack and check with the folks at the corner cafe which had the same owners.

--Hi, I said slowly, I have a reservation. Two men in their thirties, one much more into their drinking than the other, looked me up and down.

--Ummm, yesss...just a second. There was no one there?, was the inquiry in a very Kiwi accent.

I shook my head.

--Just a second...(motions to some other guy)...so you're staying for a week, yeah?

I shook my head, not knowing it was supposed to be rhetorical. Another guy, slightly younger, came by to help me out, and the other two went back to their drinks. When it came time to pay, however, the tipsier dude chimed in, once again.

--You have to pay a key deposit, too.

Whatever, I thought to myself. Booking online, having paid a deposit that way, proved to be utterly useless, but I wasn't in any mood to argue. I forked over a 20-euro note and was led to the quarters.

Unfortunately, there were no available beds.

--Don't worry, one of my would-be roomies said, we'll figure something out.

He waved his flashlight around. Some people groaned softly, others turned in their bed. Only one other seemed to be sleeping soundly.

--Here, he said, motioning to one of the top bunks. I don't think anyone's sleeping here.

So wrong. At about three or four in the morning, a backpack was thrown at the foot of the bunk.

--Oh, was this your bed?
--It was, the male voice replied, with a Spanish accent.
--Lo siento, I apologized. I don't think anyone's below, though.
--Vale.

I wasn't aware of much of anything else afterwards, having collapsed into sleep out of pure fatigue. Nevertheless, I was the first to wake up, only a few hours later, itching to leave. Check-out wasn't until 10 or 11, but I gathered my things anyway and changed in the bathroom, so as not to wake anyone else up. And I soon high-tailed it out of there, into the fresh Berlin morning. As sleep-deprived as I was, I felt much better.

Training date change

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 20:22:00 +0000

De: FERRER ALVAREZ, SALVADOR
Enviado el: miercoles, 13 de febrero de 2008 12:44
Para: FERRER ALVAREZ, SALVADOR
Asunto: MENSAJE IMPORTANTE. SESIÓN DE FORMACIÓN AUXILIARES DE CONVERSACIÓN

Hola a todos,

Esperamos que todo vaya bien en vuestros colegios en este duro trimestre. Pensad que la primavera pronto llegará. Ya sabéis que ante cualquier eventualidad estamos aquí para ayudaros en todo lo posible. Queríamos recordaros que la última sesión de formación para Auxiliares de Conversación en el CRIF “LAS ACACIAS” tendrá lugar el próximo viernes 22 de febrero. Todos los que estabais convocados para la sesión del pasado día 8 y no fuisteis podéis incorporaros a esta sesión del 22 de febrero. Si no estuvisteis el día 8 y todavía no os habéis puesto en contacto con nosotros explicándonos los motivos de vuestra ausencia, os recordamos que la asistencia a las Jornadas de Formación es obligatoria por lo que esperamos que a lo largo de estos días nos comuniquéis por qué no pudisteis asistir el día 8.

Un saludo a todos.

Aurelio Llaneza.
Programas Bilingües.

Concrete jungle, or: conquering shopping fears

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 15:44:00 +0000

As much as I may appreciate "fashion" and "style," I'm actually quite afraid to go shopping. Afraid of entering the store, of clerks approaching me, of me approaching them, of the other shoppers, of trying on clothes. You get it; the whole experience makes me more nervous and paranoid that I usually am. And in the month since the rebajas (sales) have started, I've grown increasingly wary of jamming into high-street shops like Lefties, H&M, and Sfera, trying to stock up on last season's goods at sharply-reduced prices. Indeed, even when it's not rebajas time, the shops can be like almost as asphyxiating as going to the Rastro.

I nevertheless woke up this morning with the urge to check out some of the boutique shops, particularly those within walking distance of Plaza Santa Bárbara (Metro: Alonso Martinez), recommend as part of the stylists' trail. The first stop was Pez, one of the bigger, delightfully airy little spaces that channels a very bobo feel. Silly, but I call it the "looking and the cooking," for that simultaneously intellectual and stylish woman who favors quirky but feminine and sober prints. The Deschanel sisters, for example, or Annie Clark. I'd walked by the display more than a few times, and previously intimidated, had only entered this afternoon.

The new attendants were unobtrusive, and let me peruse as long as I want, feeling the fabrics and pretty much fondling an exquisite Les Prairies de Paris jacket that was much too much for the pocketbook, even though it was in the rebajas section. The plaid dress I'd also stared at from outside was much less appealing up close, feeling more like a potato sack, if anything else. The item that I coveted most, however, was the bag of my life (ok, the day), an Egyptian blue piece that doubled as a tote and a purse when you folded it over. This isn't much of a description, so I urge you to check it out, though I should've taken a picture.

In an effort to thank them for letting me spend a good chunk of time in the place without any purchases, I asked what music was playing in the background. I'd already known the answer.

He's Swedish, right?

I headed up to Oliphant next, a chance discovery from last December when I was at Biblioketa. Oliphant had a similar vibe to Pez, though on a much smaller scale and as it seemed, offering more French labels, like Tara Jarmon, Madame à Paris, Mellow Yellow. Many gorgeous pieces also on sale, but none of the ones I liked, like the hunter green Madame à Paris tunic, was no longer available in my size. Another stunning piece I tried on was (of course) a cobalt blue top by Bellerose. Since there was no price on the tags from the new collection, I had to ask, and almost choked.

Then 10 minutes later, at Mott, where I first turned the corner in order to not enter, but ended up spending about an hour. The storefront is deceiving; the shop actually extends to two more spaces behind, the last dedicated to--you guessed it--rebajas. Of the three shops I'd so far visited, Mott offered the most pieces I wanted to try on, from a leaf-print dress by a label whose name starts with M to delicate cotton shirts by Iro. I was close to purchasing a hazel tunic by Iro when the attendant informed me that they were, again, out of my size.

Un/fortunate.

What I was hoping to be my last stop was Zadig & Voltaire, one of two Madrid branches of the French label. The style here is also quite bobo with the rocker tinge. Skulls and crossbones everywhere. Or pirates, I guess. The last time I visited, I wasn't compelled by any particular item as much as I was by the color palette: muted (not pastel) pinks, blues, greens. Also some items for men, which I admit, weren't half bad, for the modern Baudelaire--oh, I meant Voltaire, haha.

I toted a sweater in my hand and when I turned around, there was an attendant smiling at me, waiting to cater to my needs. She recommended a few other pieces from the spring/summer collection, "super cute," she said under a cardigan and over a jean miniskirt and tights. Like she was wearing! I had to grin shyly and burst the thought bubble, invisibly rising from my head, screaming, "Yo! I just want to try this sweater on!"

The attendant was quite, well, attentive, as per the job title, I'd imagine. She was quick to give me different sizes, different colors, recommend this one to go with that one, etc, that I had to keep rushing to put my shirt back on before opening the dressing room curtain. At the counter, I was half-eavesdropping on another attendant speaking flawless French with another customer (who I assumed from her accent to be a native francophone), and asked the one with whom I was working if she spoke French. She smiled.

A little bit...but it's not mandatory.

I took advantage of the situation to ease up on my nerves. French was something I could do. Small talk in French, at this bastion of French rocker chic, was something I could do.

Do you guys spend a lot of time in France, then?
No, not all...but you must?
Just some friends.
So you must know the label very well, then? The brown eyes looked up, with a conspiratorial twinkle.

It's half-fiction: I knew the label, but once again, I'd never seen myself actually going into the shop, for fear of the hyper-cool...whatever. All my insecurities to the fore. The ladies at this branch, however, seemed real, but I played dumb again, asking if there was another branch.

On Claudio Coello.
Number 80..8.

I wished the attendants as I headed out into a pleasant afternoon. The actual last stop was Zara, that Galician fashion empire, as Time Out calls it, and rightly so. I don't doubt that generally speaking, every Spanish woman has at least one piece in her wardrobe labeled Zara. The company's schtick is a "downmarket" take on catway fashions without, supposedly, the "downmarket" quality. In other words, a kind of sartorial democracy, where the Zara woman's assumed schtick is to take the piece and make it her own, at a fraction of the price. In my opinion, Zara can be quite costly but from the looks of the register lines, its popularity isn't dwindling any time soon.

Still, I wonder if there isn't room in the Spanish economy, in the fashion system, in the culture for US-style thrift stores like Goodwill and ARC? There are places like Humana, but they aren't as wide-spread, with (I think) only five in Madrid. Perhaps this is a topic for later inquiry...

Shops listed:
Pez - Regueros 15
Oliphant - Santa Teresa 7
Mott - Barquillo 31
Zadig & Voltaire - Almirante 27

(Image: Hola.com, an ad for Misako, a bag chain:
Careful!
Rebajas!
Don't lose sight of the desired bag
Don't insult, step on, or push anyone
Stay calm; there's something for everyone)

renovación de auxiliares

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 13:48:00 +0000

De: LLANEZA VILLANUEVA, JOSE AURELIO
Enviado el: martes, 05 de febrero de 2008 13:05
Para: FERRER ALVAREZ, SALVADOR
Asunto: renovación de auxiliares

Sabemos que muchos de vosotros estáis interesados en seguir siendo auxiliares el próximo año. Para que esto sea posible, es necesario que los directores de vuestros centros estén de acuerdo y que exista un compromiso por vuestra parte para quedaros. En cualquier caso, vamos a celebrar dos reuniones en las que se os informará a los que estéis interesados de los pasos a seguir. Las dos reuniones se celebrarán a las 11 de la mañana en el salón de actos de la Dirección de Área Territorial Madrid Capital, en la Calle del Vitruvio, 2 de Madrid. Si no estáis interesados en quedaros un segundo año, no tenéis que asistir a estas reuniones. Los asistentes se dividirán de la siguiente forma:

Viernes, 29 de febrero:
Auxiliares cuyo apellido comienza con letras de la A a la L

Viernes, 7 de marzo:
Auxiliares cuyo apellido comienza con letras de la M a la Z

Un saludo,
Aurelio

Agenda

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 11:31:00 +0000

Since Julie has already provided an excellent write-up of the current flamenco exhibit at the Reina Sofía, I thought I'd provide a sampling of some exhibits I'm thinking of checking out:

Avant-nerdismo, when square becomes cool, until 14 February at Espacio García,

Generación 2008, contemporary art by young Spanish artists, until 23 March at La Casa Encendida,

No soy un monstruo, until Spring at Mad is Mad,

Picasso, from the Paris Picasso Museum, until 5 May at the Reina Sofía,

Modigliani until 18 May at the Thyssen-Bornemisza and the Fundación Caja Madrid,

and (maybe) some shows:

Efterklang, Peter Broderick, 20 Feb at Neu! Club

Love of Lesbian, Russian Red, La Bien Querida, Los Guapos, 29 Feb at Joy Eslava

La Casa Azul, 8 March at Joy Eslava

Feist, 8 June at Sala Heineken

or (even) some movies:

My Blueberry Nights, Wong Kar-Wai -- I read a synopsis in an in-flight magazine, and the description made me cringe. The movie features Norah Jones, but it has the WKW stamp, so...

It's A Free World, Ken Loach -- A recently unemployed woman organizes her own home business, employing immigrants. The trailer looked interesting.

Juno, Jason Reitman -- Yes, I'm most definitely buying into the hype. Ellen Page is a versatile actress (see: Hard Candy) and I'm missing some teenage American wit.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Julian Schnabel -- Also the hype. Elle's Jean-Dominique Bauby tells his life story with only the help of one eye.

4 months, 3 weeks, 2 days, Cristian Mungiu -- Communism in decline and abortion still illegal.

If, however, you're in the market for a Spanish-language film, I highly recommend the most excellent XXY, by Lucía Puenzo. It deftly tackles the interrelationships of sex, sexuality, and gender identity without making any judgments, all the while demonstrating how such ideas are not so much fixed as learned.

That said, I'm also quite looking forward to the slew of films at this year's Berlinale, including The Other Boleyn Girl (featuring ravishing Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson as the sisters) and Be Kind, Rewind (the new Michel Gondry), both world premieres and screening out of competition. Just hope my eyes don't tire out.

Demise of the polyglot

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Thu, 31 Jan 2008 18:48:00 +0000

Whenever someone asks which languages I speak fluently, I hesitate to respond. What is meant by fluency? What kind of communication(s) does it involve? Solely oral communication or literacy as well?

From the looks of me (or my surname), many people assume I speak Mandarin Chinese; this is my physical linguistic mark, as it were. Filipino (Tagalog), however, is my native tongue, and although I'm lacking vocabulary here and there, I'm still able to speak it flawlessly, sans accent. Indeed, when I see other Filipinos, especially here in Spain, I'm almost eager to show how I've retained the language after "all this time" in the U.S., and not having grown up within "the community." I'm eager precisely because of this lack, because language is the only thing that has bound/is binding me me to a country I can hardly remember, I'm almost imagining.

I'm even more eager to show how deftly I switch between Filipino and English, my other tongue, the other tongue, the language in which I've lived most of my life.

So, I explain this (in a nutshell) to the mother of a potential student. A colleague forwarded her my contact information and within a day or so, she'd emailed me, asking me about by educational and linguistic background. Yes, I explain that Filipino is my mother tongue but that I grew up in the U.S., insinuating that I speak English as though it is the only language I have ever known. I know it like the palm of my hand. As an aside, I also shared that I spoke French and Spanish.

The mother sends an apology. Because Tagalog--and not English--is my first mother tongue, she isn't be able to hire me.*

Pero, ¡¿qué dices?!

I was incredulous. Too much information, I guess.

In a somewhat calm reply to her rejection, I suggested that perhaps the experience of learning and juggling multiple languages might help her child, too.

No response yet.

*I've also heard tell of preference of British--instead of American--tutors.

cambio de fecha Jornadas de Formación

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 19:31:00 +0000

De: "FERRER ALVAREZ, SALVADOR"
Enviado el: miércoles, 30 de enero de 2008 13:57

Un saludo a todos,

Esperamos que todo vaya bien en los Colegios e Institutos. Os escribimos para recordaros que se acercan las fechas de las Jornadas de Formación para Auxiliares de Conversación a las que sabéis que tenéis que asistir. El primer grupo tendrá su Jornada de Formación el próximo 8 de febrero a las 10 horas en el CRIF “Las Acacias”. Para el segundo grupo, cuya formación estaba prevista para el día 15 de febrero, hemos tenido que cambiar la fecha; la Jornada de Formación de este grupo será el 22 de Febrero a las 10 horas en el CRIF “Las Acacias”.

Si tenéis algún problema con las fechas, por favor, avisadnos con suficiente antelación a la celebración de las Jornadas.

Un saludo cordial,

Subdirección Gral. Programas de Innovación
Consejería de Educación

Eureka! (and other happenings)

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Tue, 29 Jan 2008 18:03:00 +0000

I spent the last weekend in Córdoba and when I came back, I had a room. I also had a last unpleasant (financial) surprise from my ex-roommates, but nothing could really hold me back from the thought of high-tailing it out of there. So, the apartment is at the opposite end of the city from work, and so, I have to walk through the roommate's apartment to get to the bathroom. The location is closer to places where I actually hang out, everything is new-ish, IKEA-ish, the walls are a cheery yellow, and the roommate herself seems clean-ish and responsible. Both she and the landlady agreed to let me move in a week earlier, so more points to them.

Nevertheless, my bubble was burst too soon. You may or may not remember my having tripped on a USB cord, then trying to jam it into the port anyway, and then crashing my motherboard. Or maybe not. In any case, I took it back to the U.S. with me to get it repaired. Now, all fixed up, it's in the hands of Spanish customs officials who want me to claim it with my internet receipt because they think it's a recent purchase and thus want me to pay duty on it. Issue one.

Issue two. I jaunt up to my nearest post office to retrieve a wire transfer. I grin, say I don't have a second name, which would technically be my mother's maiden name. I'm not handed the money over because none of the ID I brought with me states my full name, precisely the one with my mother's maiden name. I jog back to my new place, sure that all that grandeur is on my passport. No! Just the middle initial. I scurry through all the documents I have; an acceptance letter from grad school has saved me. Back at the post office, the very amiable clerk--who likes García Lorca and Machado, he admits during small talk--regrets that he still can't dole it out, due to some spelling mistake on either the sender's or the US post office's behalf. This is the reason I don't use her name.

Issue three, something I've been handling as best as I've been able to, is the illness of the teacher with whom I work, and the school's bilingual program coordinator. She's prepared me with as many activities and worksheets than you can shake a stick at. Last week, other teachers were rotating the disciplining and monitoring duties, and all I had to do was implement the very meticulous lesson plans. This week, the school's even hired a sub. However, it's quite clear to me that I'm so very not a professional and whatever dreams I entertained about teaching languages to primary school children is fast spiraling down the drain. Then again, I suppose that this itself is such a non-issue, and I ought to deal it with the way I do.

Even after these small trials, though, I no longer fear going home. There, I can blow off steam, relax a bit, and wonder how best to tackle the next day. For once, I'm perfectly content in my own very tiny corner of the world. Worry-free, if only for a short while.

Looking for a few good (wo)men

noreply@blogger.com (Srta. Tímida) — Thu, 10 Jan 2008 12:52:00 +0000

De: LLANEZA VILLANUEVA, JOSE AURELIO
Enviado el: jueves, 10 de enero de 2008 12:40
Para: FERRER ALVAREZ, SALVADOR
Asunto: Mensaje para auxiliares

Mensaje para todos los auxiliares de conversación:

Espero que hayáis tenido unas buenas vacaciones y que todos estéis ya de vuelta en vuestros centros llenos de energía para el resto del curso. Desde la Consejería de Educación queremos desearos un feliz año y aprovechamos para haceros una petición: Tenemos tres puestos vacantes para el resto del curso académico. Si conocéis a alguien que pudiera estar interesado/a, por favor, pedidles que se pongan en contacto conmigo urgentemente para concertar una entrevista. Os recuerdo que los requisitos legales serían ser de nacionalidad de algún país de la Unión Europea o residente legal en España (con visado de trabajo o estudiante) y tener estudios universitarios.

Un saludo a todos,

Aurelio

Comunidad de Madrid

J.Aurelio Llaneza
Asesor Técnico Docente
Consejería de Educación, COMUNIDAD DE MADRID
Gran Vía,10; 5ª Planta
28013, Madrid
91 xxx xxxx
-------.-------@madrid.org