At Least 30 Sentences (Give or Take 15)

It's nearing midnight and tomorrow begins yet another chapter in my adventures in Spain. I finished a difficult year at my academy by chatting with my students in the bar and exchanging emails with them, hoping to have finally made some actual Spanish friends in the end. Pretty Pete, who Esther had gleefully used as a makeup model for her instructional "How to Put On Makeup" final project, asked me if I do private classes. My heart gushed and I said no, ever conscious of the fact that I don't need money. I do, however, need some Spanish in my life. I told him he should be my friend and talk to me in Spanish and in exchange I would talk to him periodically in English. Not in so many words, though.

Tonight I stuffed the final sock into my big blue backpack and, not for the last time, regretted that the luggage leprechauns at United Airways saw fit to make off with my Samsonite carry-on at Christmas. How I miss thee, convenient-sized baggage! Picture me tomorrow morning at 7:15 a.m., making my way towards the buses to take me back to camp, full of excited children and violent scrapes and scars. While you're at it, picture me sleeping in the girls' cabin. And watching Desperate Housewives. And please do not picture me disciplining children or having a bad time, as we're working on the positive karma thing.

Oh yeah, and picture me with no internet or real mobile connection. For this internet fiend, camp is a bit hard on the cyberlife. There may be a few updates in the blog, but I'm not sure how often I'll be able to make it into the nearest city with a functioning internet access. I guess you could go outside and have some other adventures, and write me about them for a change. Oh yeah, and if you're real hard up for my stylized adventures, you could read a sentence a day. There's at least 30 of them. (Although at this point there's only about fifteen since I tend to traffic in commas and run-ons.)

Well, I'm gonna get some rest before my big day. I'm looking to get up early and swing by the pharmacy on the way to the meeting point. You can never have too much sleep-inducing Dramamine on a bus full of happy children.

PS - There's no way that 30 sentence thing is happening. Maybe you could read half a sentence a day? Thanks for that.

The Confederate States of America

I saw this movie recently, and thought it was interesting enough to share. The movie basically asks what would have happened if the South hadn't lost the Civil War. What would the ramifications have been? The end result for the country? It was interesting to see what the writers thought would have happened, and I'm pretty much in agreement with their viewpoints: slavery in the year 2005, women without the right to vote, negative relations between the CSA and Canada, where all the intellectuals live in exile. Stefan asked if I thought that it debased my cultural heritage. Hey, you gotta be willing to admit to the ugly in your past, too.

N*****

I get it, Spain. You think this word is similar to your word negro, which you use when you refer to people who are a darker skin tone than you. But really now, look it up in the dictionary. It's getting a little old to have my eardrums explode everytime you forget.

Books On Tape

Just the title of this post makes me feel old. My glasses tend to agree, as a cranium defect (read: it's too big) has stretched the legs out and they slide down my nose all day. I bend down to pick up a book, some paper, or a dropped pen and come up with my glasses perched precariously on the edge of my nose like some Little House on the Prairie school marm. You think I'm rocking out to the White Stripes on my iPod? The Bravery, Peaches, M.I.A.? Three words: Books On Tape.

Intensive Upper-Intermediate, 7:00-9:30

Describing Famous People

Student #1: She has a big mouth! Big teeth! The smile of America!
Student #2: Michael Jackson!
Student #1: No, she she she! Her mouth is very very big!
Student #2: Jack Nicholson!

Legend Of Zelda: Wind Waker

I just totally annihilated the evil Ganondorf and brought peace to the underwater world of Hyrule and the above islands, saved Princess Zelda and my sister Aryll, and pieced together the shards of the splintered Triforce.

Yeah, it's a hollow victory.

Brrrrrrrrrrrr

I've been posting kinda sparsely lately because I really couldn't think of anything funny, clever, or even interesting to say. Spanish life has recently gotten stuck on a bit of a boring sleeping / eating / teaching / watching Buffy / sleeping / eating / teaching loop that's not fun to write or read about. I have been preparing for camp somewhat, but my preparations haven't been that extensive,

mainly because I can't really digest the idea of leaving for camp the day after my academy classes finish. I was invited to the End of The Term Party at the academy (natch, cause I'm obviously the life of the party) and I've promised only a brief appearance since I have to leave for camp at 8:00 the next morning.

I'm also getting the tiniest bit worried about what I'm going to be doing at camp. Right now, I can't get the "tanning by the side of the pool" idea out of my head and focus on the fact that I'll actually have a little bit of work. It's always frightening to go into something with virtually no idea of what you're going to be doing; oh sure, I've got the theory down pat, and it involves copious amounts of food, sunshine, and Desperate Housewives. I'm just a little worried about the execution of this theory.

And finally, and the reason for the pic above (get it? it's the opposite of the post before! Cleverness abounds here!), I seem to have hit a nerve with Spanish students in my use of the air conditioner. Apparently being raised in South Georgia is akin to growing up in both the Tropics and Antarctica, because I have no problem turning the room down to a frosty 60 degrees and hanging the meat. The Spanish, however, as a people have no tolerance for the air conditioner. I have NEVER heard so many people complain about the illnesses(?!) that the air conditioner gives them, nor have I ever heard of people asking that you turn off the air conditioner when it's approximately Core of the Sun temperatures outside. I break the icicles off their noses and tell them they're going to have to bring scarves to class because there is NO WAY they're turning the air off in my classroom. Plus they tend to stink, and frozen stink is way better than sweaty.

Sizzzzzzzzle

I don't pretend to understand the way that weather works, but isn't it messed up that some African wind can totally bake an entire country? Or that the polar wind can breeze into town and provide a few days of odd sweater weather? I hate the fact that it's mid-June and I'm already wiping sweat from my brow. The worst part may just be Spain's lack of air conditioning in public places.

I enter the metro station at 7:30 a.m. and it's like walking into a microwave. Won't the train explode if it overheats? A few days ago, in what was clearly a heat-induced fit, I left the house to buy an air conditioning. After a hard-won battle, good sense finally triumphed and I returned home empty handed.

The silver lining is that I'll be headed to camp pretty soon. After a kinda weird and stressful summer with the kids before, I accepted the offer to return to camp with hesitation but realizing that, like so many other things, camp is what you make of it. If I enter it pouring pressure and stress into every moment, I'm gonna finish twittering and possibly with a few dead children on my hands. I accepted. And then I found out that neither the English Coordinator (friend Maria) nor the second-in-command (roommate Cathy) will be able to return this year. In an odd "if the entire government blows up, who becomes President?" scenario, I became the English coordinator kinda by default. This means more money and more poolside quality time. I've been downloading episodes of Desperate Housewives in preparation for my freetime. From what I gather, my job will consist of punishing naughty children (which I'm so good at), solving teacher problems, doing arts and crafts, uh, swimming, uh.... eating cake? From there it gets a little hazy.

Countdown To Camp

Remember those scars I got from summer camp last year?
Yeah, I decided to go back and get some more.
I've got some explaining to do.

I ♥ Lost

SO.FRICKIN.MUCH.

About A Boar

dean a. says: bueno, i'm gonna head on out... i'm starving, and figure i have to eat something before the Lost finale party so I don't devour everything in sight

trav! says: k

dean a. says: ps, I think stefan and erin are going to bring board

dean a. says: i mean, BOAR

trav! says: ?

dean a. says: get it? cuz it's on the island

dean a. says: boar is a wild pig

dean a. says: with tusks and everything

trav! says: right, they are bringing a boar?

dean a. says: stefan's crazy and erin's rich

trav! says: and who is going to take care of it when they are trashed drunk and the boar is shitting all over everything?

dean a. says: i know you're joking

dean a. says: tell me you're joking

dean a. says: a boar TO EAT

dean a. says: a DEAD boar, a cooked boar

trav! says: oh

dean a. says: I think stefan's making boar enchiladas

What I'm Doing Right Now

Eating a 7 month old cereal that Cathy's mum left when she visited.

What I will be doing in a few hours?
Dying from old cereal poisoning, I'm guessing.

Weekend Recap

The sun came out and the streets boiled. I tried to spend most of the weekend eating in establishments with air conditioning and avoiding the slow broil of my living room. Really, with the windows closed and curtains drawn to prevent the volcanic air from entering, the entire living room is set to 350ºF. Seeking refreshment, I took students to the bar on Friday and spent the rest of the weekend drinking tinto de verano, a drink with red wine and orange soda that you can pretend is just juice, but that may inhibit your ability to stand up later.

I also had a preparation meeting for the summer camp, which I'm repeating this year. Due to the fact that Leaders Number One and Two are both unable to continue this year, I've been promoted to English Language Coordinator. Under normal circumstances, this would entail a lot of hard work in preparation for camp, but the girl I'm taking over for has yet to relinquish control and is doing everything for me. I'm not really complaining, but hey, am I supposed to coordinate something at some point? Just checking.

People I See On A Near-Daily Basis & Have Never Met

1. Shuffles McPimp. (See previous entry)

2. Girl, late teens. Curly blonde hair. She has walked past me since October every Tuesday and Thursday and has yet to acknowledge me, which makes me stare even harder at her. Why would you willfully ignore me?

3. Woman, early 30s. She looks like a Spanish Tori Amos. She watches me out of the corner of her eyes.

4. Boy, early teens. Reads a book EVERY SINGLE DAY, waiting for his schoolbus and sitting on the steps of the dry cleaners.

5. Child, 9 or 10 & Woman, late 20s. The South American nanny waits at the same bus stop with the little white boy. He is abnormally excited at 7:45 a.m. and #4 sometimes gives him dirty glances.

6. Woman, early 20s. Most likely an American. At 8:30 a.m., she is the height of fashion. She alternates her Dior bag with her Vuitton, her giant bug-eye sunglasses always matching. Where does she go so early in the morning? Is there any way that she's going to teach English like that?

7. Man, 40s. Scary. Long hair, multiple piercings, and sometimes with a cut-off T-shirt. He always has on sunglasses.

8. Man, 40s. Handing out small flyers for a restaurant I will never go to. I have received approximately 800 of these flyers and immediately throw them away. Stop giving them to me, do you really think I'm going to eat falafel at 9:30 in the morning?

9. Woman, early 20s. Again, I assume she's American. With me as we attempt to swim through the soul-sucking crowd to get onto a bus to take us to company classes in the outskirts of Madrid. She always seems just a little sad and tired.

Shuffle, Step, Shuffle

He's got really thick glasses. When he shifts his gaze from his feet to his surroundings, he looks like a fish. He opens his mouth and closes it intermittently, blowing bubbles of nonsense words. He mutters to himself a bit. I see this man nearly everyday; he walks up and down my street. He's obviously very old and has some severe physical problem which limits his ability to take a full step, so instead he sort of shuffles, dragging his feet a bit and taking tiny, toddler-like steps. I've never timed him, but it must take him an hour to walk my little road, whereas it takes me less than a minute. He always wears a coat and looks prepetually prepared for Sunday Mass, a throwback to a different era in Spain. He seems fragile yet tough, someone who won't give up no matter the difficulties.

I was therefore a little surprised to find him yesterday sitting on the bench.
Smoking a cigar.

Keep on shuffling, pimp.