Hola, Primavera!

 

 

Spring has hit Spain with a vengeance and I’m loving it.

The past week and a half has been nothing but sunshine and warm temperatures. Last weekend, we even hit the 80s. I’m always surprised by just how closely my mood is tied in with the weather. I now find it easier to get out of bed and out the house. I actually want to hang out after school. I don’t even mind when the kids start acting a damn fool….(That’s a lie, I still have to rein them in, but I’m more lenient than usual.)

I can’t wait for summer in the city. Whoop!

Negro vs. Negro

I picked up a private class the other day and my first time meeting the students was.....interesting....and most definitely awkward. The director of the academy, who also happens to be from Canada, decided he wanted to join me for that first meeting. When I found that out, I figured I needed to mentally prepare myself, because that man? Strange doesn't even begin to describe. And sure enough, that mental preparation came in handy.

Everything was going as well as it could be when you have a class of 50 year old women who don't know English, although they've been in the class since October but are too impatient and lazy to actually study and do homework and so they learn nothing. Then, the class took a sharp left and we fell off a cliff. One of the women tried to make a vulgar joke and followed the fail of a joke with "Don't turn green from embarrassment! I know you can't turn red, because you're Black." My head most definitely tilted to the side on some "Bitch, what?!" I may even have a visual.....

There we go!

Then she stopped and solemnly said, "In the States you can't call a person negro, because they get very upset."

Dum, dum, duuum.

The director used that as his cue to explain the difference between negro in English and negro in Spanish. (Juuust in case you had any doubts, he did a horrible job and refused to let me jump in and save him.) He then proceeded to say that only other Black people can call each other 'negro' with their friends. And I quote from his most wonderful speech: "Like Juliet here, when she speaks with her friends, she uses this word, right?"

I'm sitting there, blank face on and all I can think is "Is this man talking about the word 'nigga' or 'negro'?" And if you need the visual for my most perfect blank face, direct your attention below.

After taking that moment to think it out, I politely turned to him and said, "I don't use the word." He was shocked and appalled.

If he had a string of pearls around his neck, I'm sure he woulda clutched them. If he could do such a thing, he woulda taken my "Black card" without a second thought. That's how appalled he was.

Somehow I navigated the class away from the subject and back to what we came there to do, which was to maybe learn English, and we (finally) ended the class. Needless to say I'm now looking for someone to take the class off my hands.

Like riding a bike

Have you ever thought about how cool it is to ride a bike?

I mean, without training wheels...of course.

What about the fact that you could legitimately hop on a bike without riding for literally...years and you could ride like you never stopped. It's literally impossible to forget how to ride a bike.

Am I the only one who thinks that is amazing?

Just one of those random thoughts in my mind. I rode a bike this past weekend...for the first time in 2 years? Maybe 2 and a half. It was nice.

Some days it's all about me.....

And today is one of them.

 

Bilbao living

 

My arms are so damn long. *sigh*

That's it.

That was fun, wasn't it?

Before we started class the other day, 1 of my favorite girls came up to Arancha, my co-teacher, and complained that she was bleeding. When we both took a look, we discovered a big wound on the back of her left hand. We thought it a strange place to get injured and questioned her about what happened.

She blushed a little and sheepishly confessed that she was playing a game and injured herself. Arancha seemed ready to accept this excuse, but something about it didn't seem right to me and so I questioned her further. "Tell me more about this game." She tensed up and after much silence, reluctantly revealed the nature of this so called "game." The game requires a person to recite the alphabet and something that begins with each letter while scratching the back of one's hand. We didn't quite understand the game (or maybe we didn't want to believe what we were hearing) and so the little girl decided to demonstrate. "A. A is for apple. B. B is for baby..." and while she recited each line she was clawing the skin off the back of her hand. Apparently the goal is to get to the end of the alphabet.

Jesus Christ.

"This is a game?! How? Why? What's the prize?" She just laughed and shrugged her shoulders. We questioned her even further and discovered about 6 other girls who bore the same scars. When asked to show us, they raised the backs of their hands with pride.

Arancha and I stared at all of them like they were aliens. The guys in the class just shook their heads and continued with their arts and crafts. Crazy doesn't even begin to describe....

Just a day in the life

I'm rushing to school in the morning, cold and upset that I'm even up so early when this random old woman stops me.

She starts to mumble and of course, I don't understand what the hell she's saying. Finally, I get that she wants a cigarette from me. "No dice, lady, I don't smoke." I think that's that and start to go about my way when surprise!  The lady turns out to be fucking insane.

Why does she reach out and try to caress my face after I tell her I have no cigarettes? She's not even saying a word, either. Her hands are just reaching out towards my face. Best believe I made like Neo in The Matrix.

See that? Yeah, I did it. We were both silent as we did that little dance: she reaching for my face and me bending every which way to avoid her hands.

Finally, I said "what are you doing?!" and just ran around her. I glanced at the people who happened to be around us and they had the most perfect blank faces. For a minute, I had to reassure myself that I was walking the streets of Spain and not NYC. Then I met my teacher and life went on.

Just a day in the life.

Lesson for today:

Never get a seat facing the person eating alone....especially when you're eating alone too.

Rookie move, Juliet. You should know that by now.

Talk about awkward.