On Friday afternoon Carlos and I hopped in the car and headed north to the tiny village of Bedar, where the owner of the house we rented met us in the city. The pueblecito was so small that the man didn't even have to give us a meeting place...and was still able to find us right away. When we stopped to talk to him, a bee flew in the car. We swatted until we didn't see it anymore, and then got back in the car, and followed the man who was leading us through winding and steep unpaved roads. About halfway through the 15 minute drive, the bee reappeared...it had been hiding in Carlos' hair! And then there we were driving up a mountain, battling a bee, and the man who was leading us was going really fast. This time we were able to swat it out of the car for good, and before we knew it, we had arrived at the Casa Rural.

The house was gorgeous, isolated. We had our own pool from which we had a fantastic view of the mountains and the sea. There was also a Wii and a pool table so no danger of getting bored.

Our first move was to go back in to town to get some tapas for lunch and some groceries for the weekend. Bedar is one of those beautiful, quaint towns, of all white buildings embedded in a mountainside with a view of the sea.



But Bedar harbors a dirty secret, and it only took us a few minutes to realize that something was not right. The people were either red as beets or had skin that resembled an old leather purse, and too many people had fair hair. Asking natives for the best tapas bar in town only lead to confused stuttering. Signs, radio stations, and tv programs were in English. That's right--about 9/10ths of Bedar's population is British. Carlos had warned me of British enclaves in the south of Spain, but I had always imagined that his accounts were exaggerated and that it would be mostly retirees. But the place was crawling with Brits of all ages, little blond children getting of the school bus and fair adults running stores. I guess what bothered me the most was that no one seemed to be speaking Spanish...not well enough to be living there. I haven't been studying too long, and I was able to speak circles around all of them. I asked Carlos how the natives reacted to all the foreigners, and he told me that it was a combination of feelings--happiness that they are coming there and spending their money, but annoyance at the British invasion.



The next day we ventured to Mojacar, which is another beautiful white city perched right on top of a mountain next to the sea. Someone told me that the city has been described as a "melting wedding cake."


Mojacar is also infested with Brits, but it is bigger than Bedar so there are more natives too. After a nice lunch there, I dragged Carlos into the little touristy shops, since I can only smugly pretend like I am a native for so long before I am enchanted by hand-painted olive oil pitchers and flamenco dancer magnets.

So that was my lovely weekend. I had a bit of post vacation blues, even though it was a short vacation, and I don't work today (Monday). It is just so nice to get away!

I forgot to go on my usual bureaucracy tirade after my trip to the Foreigner's office a few weeks ago. And what is this blog if not a place for me to complain about bureaucracy? The crazy thing is that I am starting to have a new respect for the French system. The first time you go to the Prefecture in France, you have to wait a couple hours, and then they give you a list of what you need. In Spain, I never did know what I needed to get my papers. At orientation, a man came to talk about what we needed for our papers, but he did speak at the speed of light and managed to leave out a few important details too. So when I had my appointment, I just took all of my documents, and copies of all of my documents, and figured I would be fine. But when they finally called my number, it seemed that every time I got to talk to the man behind the desk, something wasn't right with my application, and I had to go run an errand to fix it.

The first time it was that there was a fee that I needed to pay at a bank in order to pay to get my papers, so I headed off to a bank, and luckily had a bit of cash with me. The second time the problem was that with the passport pictures I had, the background of the picture was grey and not white so I had to go have my pictures re-done. I barely had enough money to get new pictures--had to dump out my wallet and barely had enough thanks to all of those 5 and 2 cent pieces that have been accumulating in my wallet. And worst of all, the picture package I had to get has a large portrait picture of me looking pissed off after getting the run-around by the Oficina de Extranjeros! What am I supposed to do with that?

So I finally got back to the office, and I realized that I had seen everyone in the waiting room leaving and coming back several times, and my roommate who was also there informed me that they call your number 5 to 6 times throughout the day because usually it takes people that many times to run all these errands to get all of their paperwork right! I left my appointment demoralized and withan empty wallet. Why don't you just give everyone a list of what they need, Spain? Now I have to wait 40 days and go back to the office to see if my paperwork is ready. Why can't you just call me when it is ready?

Anyway, work is fine. I am starting to get the hang of things and enjoy it. In the evenings, I watch a lot of silly Spanish television with my roommates, which is a nice way to end the day. Wednesday is Carlos and my real anniversary so we are going to see the play Don Juan Tenorio, which is kind of a special play for us because once on a train to New Orleans, Carlos read and translated it for me.

Now I am planning Halloween lesson plans and a Halloween costume for this weekend (I am going to be a Frenchman, and Carlos is going to be my bottle of wine). Halloween is not really celebrated here, but my anglo friends and I are determined not to miss out on the holiday.

I finally have roommates so the apartment is not so lonely--3 American girls...not so exotic, but this is the luxury that I am granting myself here in this foreign country--being able to communicate freely at home. Everyone is really nice and gets along well, and the atmosphere in the apartment is relaxed.

Work started on October 1st, and this being the second time that I am an English conversation assistant, I was not nervous...the French and Spanish programs are virtually identical...12 hours of work a week, no real grading, mostly just promoting oral communication and comprehension in classes. The only difference this time was that my job at least, did not grant me 2 weeks of observation as is mandatory at least in the French system...perhaps it was just at my job where I didn´t get it--and perhaps that was owing to all of my previous experience teaching English, but I had only one day to chat with the teachers about what I needed to do and observe a few classes before diving in.

I was pretty nervous because I have mostly first and second year students, which is a lot more difficult than the older students who the other American assistant gets to teach (out of seniority...she was here last year). So going into a class full of students who were just beginning English I knew I was going to have to conquer my own fear--I was going to have to speak in Spanish to them. Some people say that the role of an English assistant is only to speak English, but with students who have only had a few hours of English lessons, speaking in English only frustrates them and makes them afraid of you! Luckily when I got to class on Monday ready to teach the first year students, and after having asked Carlos a lot of words that I would need in class in Spanish ( spell, count etc), I was pleased to discover that most of my students are ¨false beginners,¨ which is to say that they have actually had several years of English class. However, there are still plenty of students who are real beginners so it is pretty necessary for me to speak in Spanish....and I think the students are pretty relieved that I was speaking my albeit imperfect Spanish. Speaking so much to them is making me find some holes in my knowledge of Spanish, such as the vosotros form (plural you), which I never paid much attention to and suddenly need, and the subjunctive form which comes up pretty often when you are a teacher i.e. ¨I want you to...¨

The work with the second year students is a lot easier, and I use Spanish a lot less often, more often when they ask me the definition of a word or something. I am really enjoying the work...the students are there voluntarily so it makes such an enormous difference. It's such a departure from my job at the university last year. Here I don't do any grading, and if I wanted to, I could just go into class unprepared and improvise...as long as I got them to talk and/or listen for an hour. Of course, I am too conscientious for this.

I had a bit of a scary thing happen the other day...when I got off work, and I was heading to a friend's house on the other side of town, and managed to get on the right bus in the wrong direction. Normally this wouldn't have been such an enormous problem, since the bus would have to turn around and go back to the center of town eventually, but since it was late--around 10:30pm, I realized that this might be the last bus left, and I could be stranded at the terminus. I explained my problem to the bus driver, and he told me that there was one last bus to the center, and but I would have to buy a new ticket at the end of the line--a hospital outside of town. When we got to the there, the bus driver walked up to me and said, "You're not from here, are you?" (DUH!) and he didn't make me buy another ticket, and I made it to my friends although very late. I shouldn't exaggerate the gravity of this incident--I mean, worse come to worst, I could have called Carlos (I only had a few cents of phone credit, but luckily we have a special phone plan for each other), and he would have picked me up. Still, it was scary, and I will be more careful in the future. But well, if I ever need to get to the hospital in the future, I will know how to get there.

Carlos and my 2 year anniversary is at the end of the month, and we are going to spend the weekend in a mountain home about an hour from here. We will be close to some beautiful villages that I haven't seen yet (and also Vera where we spent a weekend during the summer). I am very excited!

With one week left in the states, I would have wanted it to be relaxed and calm so I could finish packing and say goodbye to my family and friends and not be to stressed when I got on the airplane. As it was, it was mostly consumed with all of the wedding festivities for Cori and Mark's wedding, showers, being a bridesmaid, etc. And it was good to see a lot of old friends, and make some new ones, but it also meant that my exit was more hurried and less calm. I had four houseguests the night of the wedding, friends from college, and we had lots of fun, but then I had one more night in the US and that was it.

I got on the airplane Monday morning with way too much stuff. Had re-arrange my suitcases and check my carryon because my main suitcase weighed in at a whopping 60 pounds, and I was only allowed 50. So I got on the plane with my knitting, book, iPod and purse and prepared for the 3 flights it would take to get to Madrid. As soon as I got to Dallas, the flight was running an hour late, which would only give me an hour to get through the JFK airport for my international flight. Don't worry, the man behind the desk assured me, I am 100% positive that your flight from JFK will be late too, and you will make it no problem. Plus, you won't have to go through security again so it won't take long to get to your flight.

Lies, all of them. I got to JFK with 50 minutes before takeoff; my flight to Madrid was NOT running late, and JFK goes down in my books as the most poorly marked and confusing airports that I have encountered, and of course, I DID have to go through security again. I made it just as the the gates were closing. All of this wouldn't have mattered so much...getting to Madrid late wouldn't have been too horrible, if Carlos wouldn't have been waiting for me at the airport, and if I'd be late, I would have had no way to contact him or find him. But I made it, and when I got to Madrid, he was waiting for me, even though my bags weren't--they hadn't made that quick connection in JFK. .

Carlos and I had a day and a half in Madrid, which was only slightly spoiled by the fact that I had no makeup, clothes, or brush. We did still manage to have a lovely time though. As soon as we went to the hotel and got cleaned up, Carlos took me for a surprise, which was going on rowboat ride in the middle of Retiro park, which was so lovely. The park's lake is surrounded by beautiful monuments and parts of a palace, and it was so surreal there with my boyfriend after so many hours of travel, and I had skipped a night's sleep as I'd gotten on the plane in the afternoon and arrived in Madrid the next morning. Then we walked through a used book district and bummed around the city. Carlos took me through a lot of the city's monuments and explained who all the people were. Strolling down the Gran Via, we passed a bunch of theaters, where we saw that Monty Python's "Spamalot" was playing. We went on a whim, and the production was great. It was in Spanish, but luckily having seen "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" helped me understand, especially when discussing the rates of speed of unladen Afrian swallows.

The next day we took a train home, but midway through we discovered that some train tracks had flooded, making the rest of our journey in train impossible. The rest of the trip was in bus, and we ended up getting home pretty late. I could have done the trip to Almeria alone, but I am so glad that Carlos was there to keep me company since it took us about 8 hours to get there. Plus, I am not sure I would have understood when they told me in Spanish that the tracks had flooded.

So, me voici, here I am in my sweet apartment in the middle of the city. The first week was a bit tough as I didn't have much to do, and didn't know many people in the city yet. Plus, Carlos and I were acclimating to how our relationship works when we live on two sides of the same city--how often we see each other, etc. But I finally made some friends, and I have a few roommates arriving in the next couple of days, not to mention that work starts on Thursday so I have my own life starting to shape up, so everything is looking up.

I made Carlos accompany me to work to go meet my boss and see where the place is right when I arrived. He had told me that he had gone to the Escuela de Idiomas for 4 years, but wasn't sure if the people would recognize him. I introduced my Almeriense (from Almeria) boyfriend, and everyone was so surprised to see him! They all knew him, and his parents who had previously worked in the same building as the school. So everyone was really amused to say the least to see their alumnus dating an American who would be working at the school. Everyone was really friendly, and I am looking forward to starting work in Thursday. My communication with the teachers is primarily in Spanish. All of the teachers are English teachers so if I really needed to, I could speak in English, but the assumption is that we will speak in Spanish, so here we go...

Carlos is a bit of a food snob so throughout all of my time in Almeria, he has made it his purpose to take me to all of the best restaurants in the city (and even in cities around it), so last week he said he was in the mood for jamon--which is amazing Spanish ham, which was not been cooked, but salted. It is not light pink like American ham, but dark pink or dark red, and I might even say that jamon is to Spain what cheese is to France. So last Thursday we went to La Bodega de Jamones or the Jamon Cave, and when I saw newspaper clippings about the man there being the second best jamon cutter in Spain (that was in 2005, I bet by now he is the best), I knew I was in for some serious jamon. The guy was gorgeous...dressed all in black and with a ponytail...the kind of Don Juan spaniard that you imagine. And when he presented the beautiful plate of jamon, and informed us that there was a certain order to eat the jamon according to the arrangement on the plate, I realized that eating it is an art form too. Along with the delicious red wine, it was an experience that I won't soon forget. Mmmm... An experience only to be repeated on special occasions...but with our 2 year anniversary and Carlos' birthday coming up, I am sure we will find a reason to go back.

I thought that somewhere in the 5 weeks of being in Mississippi--no car, no job--so literally stuck in the house all day, I would be bored and update my blog way too often with uninteresting quotidian details, such as what I ate for every meal, how many minutes I spent in the shower, etc. But on the contrary, I have been really busy. One reason is that I have rediscovered my love for reading. Majoring in English (and French too at the last minute!) really killed my love for reading. Every weekend in college, I had several novels to read, papers to write about them, things to analyze. And after that I needed a break, but now I'm over that, and luckily we have a house full of books so that has kept me pretty busy. I also have been focusing on my real (non-blog) writing skills. I took a class at the local independent newspaper in Jackson on creative non-fiction, which was fun and has also rekindled my desire to work on my writing.

I have done my annual room clean out--somehow I don't add to the contents of my room, but every summer I can find several trash bags of stuff to give to GoodWill (one of my priorities has become not accumulating so much stuff). If anyone ever gives me a trinket or doodad or whatchamacallit again I will send it back to you. I have enough crap in my room to decorate and fill an entire house. So I am working on minimalism.

I have been catching up with friends and family a lot who are around town. Susan's wedding festivities started the day I got back, and since so many of my friends came to town for the wedding, I just pretended like it was all a big welcome home party for me! It was, of course, awesome to see Susan and Hedge who have since settled in Shanghai. Talking to them made me remember that no matter how "foreign" things seem in Europe, it is still western civilization. Even for me, it is hard to imagine going somewhere so different. If I knew how to write good luck in Chinese here, I would. Good luck, Sue and Hedge.

My trip here was long though smooth-enough. I went to Madrid a day early because I wouldn't have time to catch a train there and get my flight in the same day. Since I had an afternoon to kill in the city, I went to the Thyssen-Bornemisza museum, which is not the Prado or the one where you can see Guernica, but the other one. I had seen it 4 summers ago when I backpacked through Europe, and I remember loving it, but at that time, we were near the end of the journey and suffering from severe museum fatigue after seeing so much great stuff so it was hard to appreciate. This time, I got to really take my time and enjoy it.

The next morning I had to get to the airport with all of my things, which was no small task, considering that I am so cheap that I refuse to take taxis. That is right, I insisted upon taking the subway which involved no fewer than two transfers and an uncountable number of stairs. What really struck me while I was travelling was how much more friendly and helpful the Spanish people were than the French. I have gone through Paris with lots of luggage many times, struggled through subways and all of that, but NO ONE has ever helped me. In Spain, several people helped me get my suitcase down the stairs or onto the subway cars. They always asked in Spanish if they could help me, and if I hesitated to respond, started speaking in English. The difference between the countries is almost tangible--there is definitely an element of friendliness that was not (as) present in France.

Now it is my last week here, and I have not accomplished much on my to do list--such as eating lots of good sushi and doing some of my other local favorite things. And I am also pretty busy being a bridesmaid for Cori. Last weekend I attended no fewer than 3 parties for her and Mark, and this weekend will be full of festivities. It will be great (and so convenient!) to see all of my college buddies who will be coming for the wedding. I guess I can sort of pretend like all this is a farewell party for me.

Anyway I have to run. It is so strange how these 5 weeks which I thought would be relaxing have felt more like a marathon!

 And now, one final thought on France.  Before I left, I had to talk to a lot of new people for various reasons--finding people to accept some stuff I was getting rid of, etc.  And upon meeting me everyone made the same assumptions.  Now, I am highly opposed to tattoos, but towards the end of my stay I was ready to have the following things tattooed on my forehead instead of having to answer them 6-7 times daily.  

1. No, I am not British.

2. No, I am not a student.

3. No, I am not leaving Nancy to go home.

I know that a lot of these are sort of logical conclusions for a young person with an English language accent when speaking French, but they are not the case.  And if I had known that there were a lot of British students lurking around Nancy, it might have been understandable, but this was not the case.  I was wondering if I was going to have the same reception in Spain, but I finally realized that the main response I will be giving is--"No, I'm not a tourist" as the primary reason anglophones come to Almeria is for vacations.  That is all.  And this is the official changing of my blog from my French life to my Spanish one: Note the layout changes.

My trip to Spain (via Germany) went really smoothly.  I spent two lovely days in Mainz with my great aunt and uncle.  It was nice to see them.  I'm away from my family members for so long that I manage to forget how nice it is to see them sometimes.  We made homemade jelly (raspberry and gooseberry--I had never heard of gooseberries before that!)  Nik was nice enough to drive me to the Frankfurt airport at 5 o'clock in the morning, and the trip went without a hitch.  After all of my agonizing about my luggage, the friendly workers of Air Berlin didn't even weigh my bags, and Carlos was waiting for me when I arrived.

And then when I arrived, Carlos had news for me: a private school had called him and asked me to come in for an interview the next day!  The fact is that I already have work; I will be a language assistant (like I was my first year in France) in a language school in the center of Almeria.  It is good because I will be teaching adults and people who are really interested in learning English (and possibly French...) and because it will only be about 12 hours of teaching a week.  The only drawback is that it is a step down (or maybe a few) professionally from my job at the university.  I justify this by saying that I will have plenty of  time to teach private classes and earn extra $$ and that I will have time to take classes or do whatever else I fancy.

But before I got this job at the language school Carlos and his family members and family friends and me when I was here gave my CV to every school that would take it.  And well, finally one called the day before I arrived.  I was pretty nervous because the interview was completely in Spanish.  And well I do have faith in my Spanish skills, I thought I needed some time to really get used to the language and switch from French to Spanish.  The interview went fine.  I mean I didn't come off as Shakespeare or anything, but I did manage to get my point across and answer all the questions in a not too nonsensical way.  And well, they offered me the job, but this was before they knew how complicated it was to hire Americans and get me a visa and before they realized how hard it was going to be for me to get the Spanish teaching qualification that I would need before starting the job.  But still, well they know me, and maybe it will be a possibility for next year if I decide to stay in Almeria.

Other than my job interview and working on getting my visa application stuff together, not much has been going on.  Extreme laziness.  We have been going to the beach, which is just across the street, and sometimes when it is extra hot I build the courage to jump into the freezing cold  Mediterranean.    Yesterday we went over to Aguadulce (translation: "Sweetwater") the neighboring town to enjoy their lovely beaches and bum around.  Today there was a mini-fair along the boardwalk which is just next to Carlos' house, and my heart was melted by a troop of 7 year old flamenco dancers.  During the "feria" I also experienced my first religious procession, and Carlos was not able to explain to me why it was taking place.  It involved a bunch of people in carrying crosses and candles, followed by a huge sort of table thing with an enormous statue of the Virgin Mary and a bunch of candles, followed by a brass band playing solemn music.  It seemed like sort of a paradox--solemn religious parade processing through the festive fair, but well everyone treated it like business as usual.

The sales are on, and Carlos has been pretty patient going with me since I don't have any girlfriends to go shopping with yet.  I must say that he has also been really patient taking me to run errands to get my visa stuff taken care of and making sure that all of my job stuff is in order.

My Spanish is going ok I suppose.  I need to study more.  I know the verbs, just not how to conjugate them.  And well after a few weeks, I am accustomed to the sound of the language, and I can understand almost everything, as long as people speak a little slowly.  The regional accent is difficult, and my French, although it helps me sometimes causes problems too.  Well, I guess my own mistake is assuming that Spanish is more similar to French than it actually is.  The other day I asked for "frutos del mar" which was a direct translation of the French "fruits de mer" which means seafood.  And well, turns out it is not a direct translation (Spanish for seafood is "marisco"), and when I asked for "more fruit of the sea please" it just sounded confusing and poetic as it would in English.  And then in French the word for (contact) lenses and lentils is the same ("lentilles"), and I assumed that this would be the same in Spanish so the other day I announced that I was going to put my lentils in my eyes.  Oops.  Well I have to say that my Spanish is coming along, though slowly.   

There are some big bullfights in town this weekend, and I was planning on going, as a part of my official assimilation into Spanish culture, but it turns out that the price is high, and I'm not willing to shell out 60 euros for a ticket.  I'll have to settle for a bullfight on tv.

Hasta luego, dragging Carlos back to the feria to hear some live music...

I am starting this entry on the train because it is 7 in the morning, and even after a sleepless night, I am not sleepy, and after over a month without too much time to reflect, I have a lot on my mind.

I am truly sad about leaving Nancy. Whenever I mention this to anyone, they remind me that I am going to live at the beach and that I will be with my boyfriend, and of course I am ecstatic about all of this, but it doesn't mean that I am not upset about leaving a city that finally feels like home and the wonderful friends I have here (or there? I am pulling away from the city as we speak).

My intention for my last month in Nancy was to do everything cool in the city I hadn't done yet, like go to the aquarium and to do everything I really loved and knew one last time like the art museum and the Musé de l'Ecole de Nancy. To spend as much time at all of the cool outdoor cafes as possible. To picnic in the Parc de la Pepinière, to wander around Place Stan and the Vieille Ville. As it was, I was working over full time and did not have time to do all of these things.

After work, my primary stress came from getting my healthcare stuff taken care of. Last year I didn't fool with healthcare much, since I didn't really understand how it worked, but health care stuff accumulates, and this year I was determined to take advantage of the health care system which I have read is ranked the first in the world. I needed physical therapy for my ankle, new glasses/contacts, a trip to the dentist, etc. So I got a mutuelle and tried make sure I was signed up for government
healthcare that (in theory!) every worker in France has. So between work and all the doctor visits, I spent my time harassing the CPAM—the general healthcare office to make sure that I was signed up for healthcare. After the first two months they lost my dossier, then I talked to someone who seemed like he knew what he was talking about, and then after another month with no result, I went back last week only to discover that it wasn't the CPAM that was supposed to take care of my dossier, but in fact, the MGEN—healthcare for people who work in public education. So I spent months and months going back to this office, while no one informed me that I wasn't even in the right place. When they told me that, I had the bizarrest sense of both anger and relief. Anger that no one had told me, and relief maybe another office would be more efficient, would finally help me get this taken care of. So I ventured out to the city where the office was located, and the woman was helpful, and I think that I am finally going to get this worked out, although it still may take a while.

Anyway, all that is not to say that I haven't had any time for fun...after forcing my friends to celebrate my birthday for a month in January/February, it was only fair to give Kat a month of celebrations—so this included many picnics and some fun nights on the town. And as a grand finale Annika, Kat, and I went to Paris, where we stayed with Sarah. It was only 24 hours in the City of Lights, but we made the most of it—went out on the town (karaoke...I don't think those Parisians will forget our rendition of several Whitney Houston songs any time soon), shopped along the Champs Elysee, and saw the Andy Warhol exhibit at the Grand Palais, which was awesome.

Leaving France has been strange, rather anticlimactic—especially compared to last year when I had to say goodbye to all of my friends at once and leave Carlos there in Metz. I mean, I wasn't expecting fireworks, or the entire nation to go into a state of mourning, but I didn't have the opportunity to say a real goodbye to a lot of my friends and coworkers, and the goodbyes I did goodbyes were staggered. My internet and phone were cut off a little earlier than expected (this might have been a blessing—would I have accomplished everything those last days if I had had the internet to distract me?), but it also left me without contact with anyone (with the exception of Kat who was still in town and dropped by a few times) so my last days were just me alone in my apartment scrubbing and packing. So my departure was quiet (with the exception of the sound of me dragging my enormous suitcase down three flights of stairs at six this morning—sorry neighbors!)

In a few hours I will arrive in Mainz for a couple days with Zee and Nik, where I have to figure out how to reduce some of this weight in my suitcase before I get on my flight to Almeria on Wednesday. I can't wait to get to Spain so I can finally relax!

Je suis où???

I don't think I will have time for a real update before I go to Spain in July.  

The other day I found out that people with long-stay visas in France next year (like me this year and last year) will no longer have to apply for their a carte de séjour.  This law is being passed just as I am leaving, of course.  

And then on top of that, I got my French police background check for my Spanish visa, and it was a cinch.  Emailed the form to the guy, and a few days later it was in my mailbox.  All that's to say is that my last days in France have been rather un-French.  

Hasta pronto!