A day in the life of Spanish MacKenzie

A view of Rincon de la Victoria, my city, from a hike

Mornings. I have mixed feelings. While every day of my life I am thankful to wake up safe, alive and healthy, the act of stopping my sleep is not preferable. I also hope that one day I'm blessed enough to wake up everyday next to that someone that I'm madly in love with and treasure comfortable mornings with..but I'm not preoccupied with that thought right now. Right now, I'm just happy to wake up in my little twin bed and look out to the small main avenue of my town below my balcony as I listen to the mixture of Spanish and coffee cups being placed on the tables of the cafes that line the street.

I am reflecting on mornings because of how much I have come to love them here. Mornings hold the anticipation of the countless little adventures I will encounter that day with my life here. If you know me, you know that I strive to find my own adventures no matter where I live everyday, whether it's venturing to a farmer's market or finding a new running path that I have no idea where I will end up. However, living in Spain makes that a little easier.

I thought it might be interesting to read about an average day in the life of MacKenzie here. As in teacher MacKenzie (what my kids call me) on a weekday. Probably not. But just in case, you can keep on reading.

Wake up at 8 angry at my alarm for going off again. Remind myself that I'll be able to take a nap when I get home during siesta time. Walk to the window of the living room or balcony, check out the sunrise over the Mediterranean. Bumble to the bathroom to attempt to make myself look descent. Raid Liz's closet for some article of clothing. Get dressed/organize my teaching materials for the day/listen to music/drink espresso if I or Courtney were ambitious enough to make some. Attempt to leave the house by 8:50 to catch the bus at the bus stop just down the road. This includes a walk past the taxi drivers that line their cars up in the morning. I've never actually seen them drive away with a person in the car but they line up there, and they creepily check me out as I walk to the bus stop. I used to dread this part of my walk, but I almost got hit by a car crossing the pedestrian crosswalk the other day right by them, and they all got completely protective and were up in arms swearing at the driver, assuring me it was their fault and that the driver had no right to honk at me.

Then I sit on a bench for about twenty minutes waiting for my bus. I eat whatever piece of fruit I choose to have for breakfast that day. Today it was a banana. Sometimes it comes early, sometimes it's late, but I have an amazing time people watching and listening to my Ipod. First there is a Spanish man with long hair that drops off his trash across from the stop and continues on his way. Then there is a dog. Now this one I'm still curious about. He has no owner, but he walks himself down the sidewalk on the street at the same time of the morning 3 out of the 4 mornings I wait there at this time. He even walked across the street using the pedestrian crosswalk today. Seriously people, no owner. I have gotten out of my seat to look around trees or other possible obstacles, but nothing. No one. My jaw dropped when he used the crosswalk and I of course laughed out loud, looking around to see if anyone else found this as amusing as me. Nope. Oh well. I'm just a freak that laughs to herself at Spanish bus stops I guess.

The same buses come in the same order and the same people get on each one. There is a woman who tends to wear an outfit two days in a row that gets on her bus about 5 minutes before mine comes. I especially enjoy a mom that brings two boys of about 16, both autistic, to the bus stop every morning. They are so excited to get on the bus, and the son of the mom is always helping the mom walk and get on and off the bus. It's touching because you can tell that they both give back to one another so much. It's amazing how no matter where you go, the routines of transportation, the schedule of people, always exists. These strangers become a comforting part of your schedule to see. While conversations are usually non-existent with these people, they become part of your daily life, something you can count on. When they're not there, it's hard not to wonder, to worry, about people you have never shared a single word with.

My actual bus ride consists of me putting on my "Spain bus" playlist (actually it's spelled Spain bud because I spelled it incorrectly in Itunes and am still too lazy to change it) which is chalk full of easy listening songs to doze off to. I look out the window and nod in and out of consciousness, looking at the Mediterranean, hoping I don't fall into too deep of sleep that I miss my stop in 40 minutes.

Then I get off, walk in my path along the main avenue of Velez, looking at the foothills, mountains and palace in the small mountain town off in the distance. This includes a walk past a coffee shop, packed full of men and Spanish policemen drinking shots of espresso, yelling in their Andalucian Spanish, all gloriously not working. Then I walk past the coffee shop I stop in for coffee at when I have extra time, a wave from the women who work there, and turned Spaniards on their stools gawking at the weird American that walks past their coffee shop in the morning.

INSERT SCHOOL HERE

After arriving home in the heat of the afternoon, which greatly differs from the morning chill that is present in the mountain town of Velez, I make myself lunch around 2:30 p.m., which is when everyone eats lunch here. This usually consists of something combined with tomatoes in olive oil and balsamic. Then I bumble down to the beach below our piso. I bring my beach blanket and reading material, although I usually don't actually read. That's because this is my favorite time of the day. After a nice lunch, I doze off on the beach, pushing everything out of my mind except the sound of the waves of the sea crashing on the shore next to me.

I'm usually awaken by Liz or Courtney as they join me for a couple of hours of relaxation on the beach. Don't worry though, I now have to go back to work, completing lesson plans and then giving private English lessons in the evening, followed by a sunset run along the shore or some sort of physical activity. Possibly a trip to the fruteria to buy fresh veggies or fruit, and let's be honest, a trip to a convenience store to buy a bottle of wine.

And that's it. That is my average day. We'll see if it gets old.

The Currency of Knowledge

Day trip last week to the pueblo of Nerja

Today I was sitting in the teachers' lounge, looking up past participles (really exciting, I know) on one of the computers. I overheard one of the teachers I work with, Ricardo, mention something about "hacer surf" (surfing) to another teacher, Ramon. I saw Ricardo open a surf report on the computer next to mine for Andalucia and then a couple of beaches nearby. I have wanted to learn to surf for a while, and if you read my blog on my goals for my time here, one of them is to finally learn how to (you're supposed to be holding me to these goals, remember!). After realizing that one of them had to know how, I asked if they could teach me. The three men pointed at Ricardo and told me that he was a very "chulo" surfer. This means cool surfer. I told him I would pay him if he wanted or that we could work something else out too if he preferred that - as in I could teach him something I know in exchange for his surf lessons. There is no better way to learn something than from a native speaker or native person to an activity. Here enters my love of intercambios.

For those of you who don't speak Spanish, it means interchange. In fact, one of my favorite things about Spain is intercambios. Each time I have lived abroad, there is this constant exchange of skills. Like I said, I've wanted to learn to surf for years, and I now know that I can either offer up one of my skills which could be as basic as my ability to speak English to teaching someone how to use a 35mm film camera. It's amazing...you want to learn how to speak German? No problem, someone will teach you if you teach them how to play the guitar. You want to learn Spanish? OK, someone will post an ad online or you'll meet them at a bar one night and the two of you will start talking about your shared interest in learning the other's language and make a deal. You'll decide to meet up once a week and speak in the other's language as they speak in yours and you'll teach other for free. However, on my contemplative ride home on the bus today, with the Avett Brothers pumping through my Ipod, I realized this isn't true. You don't teach people for free- you teach people for knowledge. This is where my bus ride home started to make me wonder -- What better currency is there than knowledge?

This concept is beautiful. I believe in the power of education at every level, whether it is a formal college degree or eating dinner with a foreign family after which you learn and accept cultural differences. I've always been drawn to educational locations from the different universities and schools I've worked at during and after college. I have such a magnetic pull towards these places and their ever-constant drive for understanding and learning. Living abroad, every single day is this constant thirst for knowledge--cultural knowledge, dialect knowledge, bus timetable knowledge, grammar knowledge. The list never ends.

The fact is, locals and Spaniards always know that I am not one of them. I don't take a bocadillo break everyday at 11:30 a.m. or naturally eat lunch at 2 p.m. followed by a short siesta, and I definitely don't catch every joke because I was not brought up to understand the same idioms and sayings they have heard since they were born. Because of this, with every Spaniard I meet, I am either confronted with an "I want to understand you" presence or "I don't care if I understand you, you're different and weird" presence. OK so some Americans may argue I 'm a little odd either way...BUT the point is, there is usually a constant struggle to understand the other, or if I may say so, gain more knowledge on the other and their culture. Luckily, I usually only encounter people who share that desire to understand the other more.

Today during my lesson with my 26-year-old student, Laura, we struggled for a couple of minutes two different times. I was trying to explain the different meanings of the preposition "by" to her, then followed by (ha) the expression "makes sense". It was so funny and amazing. This American and this Spaniard were rustling through piles of papers and drawing diagrams hastily, making faces and acting things out just because of the general desire to understand the other.

But don't worry fellow Americans, while I'm sure it may seem that I want to drop my identity from our country all together, the truth is rather the opposite. I constantly feel our culture and identity abroad living here more than I do at home. I am constantly comparing and contrasting the manner we do things, say things and communicate. I love it. Today in a first grade class, we're learning the parts of the body and a little boy asked me what we call the "caja" (chest). The teacher and I instantly looked at each other as both realized that "caja" and "chest" have figuratively similar meanings and physical presence in our respective languages. Despite the history and cultural differences dating back to hundreds of years ago from the foreign yet similar origins of our languages, there is something in common.

The first thing I have taught my first graders is the simple phrase of, "how do you say...". They will sit silently for long periods of time, raise their hands, and ask me how I say everything. They love it, and I love quiet kids at the end of my day. However, I've realized the intent behind the question. It's not how do YOU say, it's how do you AND your people say. Even young children seem to realize that languages are more than words, they are idioms and references to objects, places and feelings that have important connotations to cultures. And as much as I love Spain, I always answer their questions as a proud American.

Learning is just such an important aspect in the lives of human beings. The accomplishment of having a better understanding of someone or something, or the acceptance that you may never understand it, which can be a lesson in itself, is an important motivating factor for humans' everyday lives.

So ummmm, go learn something : )

Hasta luego amigos.

Sorry...I've been a bad blogger

Rincon de la Victoria

I just got back to the apartment from a night run under the moon and next to the sea. It's amazing how easily entertained I am running in the wet sand next to the shoreline, running forward while dodging the incoming waves. I also realized today that if I have the opportunity, I always brush my teeth before I go running. There is nothing worse than a bad tasting mouth while you run. Seriously. Fresh breath is way better.

OK onto more serious subjects I guess, although I know that my teeth-brushing habits hold you captive.

So much has happened since the last post. So many little stories, moving moments. I want to share them all, but it's impossible. I've been a bad blogger...please forgive me!

However, I feel settled in now. I feel at home when I walk in the door, put my briefcase bag next to my bed, and cuddle up on the couch with a blanket. My room is cozy from the candles and new down comforter I bought (among many other things) at IKEA during a horrible hungover trip we made 2 weeks ago involving multiple forms of dizzying public transportation. Let's just say hungover Kenz took a 45 minute nap in the IKEA cafeteria at 8 p.m. Yup. I knew I would feel better after a siesta and glass of apple juice though. Woops. Zero points for America's image, sorry guys. It was just one day though.

I love my schedule here though because I have as much of a routine as I need to feel like I'm a real person accomplishing things and helping the world, along with room and space everyday to explore and be spontaneous. I need both, whether the spontaneous thing is finding a seafood market to buy mussels and learning how to cook them (which I did this week) or venturing into Malaga to meet up with my teacher friends for sushi followed by watching one of them play in a live band at a club until 2 in the morning (2 Thursdays ago).

Upon coming here, I knew that I would be making enough money to live here, but I knew I wanted to make more. The only way of course to do that is through under the table jobs, paid cash, as my visa to live here does not allow me to work outside of the school I "assist" at. One of these ways is by giving private English lessons (clases particulars). I was lucky enough to have several of my teachers approach me the first week at my school voicing an interest in either private lessons for themselves, their children, or their friends. I didn't think it would be that easy, as we had been given information at our orientation about how to advertise for these and such. I made an effort to put myself out there with the fellow teachers the first weeks here from talking during our half-hour break every morning, to going to lunch with groups of them or meeting up with them for whatever they invited me to do. I guess that the last English "assistant" they had didn't speak very well in Spanish and wasn't very outgoing. I hope and think that my effort paid off to try to make genuine Spanish friends through the teachers at my school as well as meet prospective private students. Either way, I now have 3 scheduled lessons every week, with 2 more on the way.

I love my private lessons. They're a lot more work than I had expected though. Right now I'm trying to gauge the level each of the students is at in order to develop materials, games and homework for each. I am tutoring one of the teachers at my school, a daughter of another who is 26, and a 12 year old daughter of another. In the upcoming weeks I'll be adding a group of about three six-year-olds. Should be fun! I'm completely engaged during each lesson though. It's a constant intense translation and understanding of how they are thinking in a Spanish mentality and how I can better explain it and how it is used in English. I get to see ideas and concepts click in my students' minds right as they are sitting next to me. I get to see the smile of satisfaction when something finally makes sense to them that I know all too well from my own Spanish struggles in the past and daily in the present.

My Kids : )

All in all, I have come to love teaching. I'm excited to go to school in the morning, and the students are all generally interested in me. I get hand drawn notes, presents, hugs and smiles from kids. Yes, there are times I want to pull my hair out or walk out for 2 minutes for silence, but I really do care about them. Thinking about leaving them after three weeks already pulls at my heartstrings, June is going to be hard.

I was teaching a sixth grade class today and those rubber bands that are in shapes of animals and such are popular here as well as in the U.S. for kids of that age. It is funny to watch the little sixth graders flirt with each other, exchange bracelets, take them. Teaching has been such a memory provoking experience for me so far, racking my brain to when I was those ages, what interested me and kept my attention. It's amazing to me to look at the 4th graders and think that I met Liz at that age and that through all of the possible life changes, we're still close friends. It's pretty cool if you ask me. When I look at the fourth graders I see their innocence and all of the possible life changes that will come from boyfriends to college. There are so many things that happen and people that come into your life that can change your outlook on life that either push friends apart of closer together. I'm glad the Lizard and I are still friends from our fourth grade class with Mrs. Larson...if she could only see us now!

So I have to actually work?

My School

Well, the days of laying in the sun, eating, taking a siesta, chilling on the porch drinking wine, and then going out for tapas are over. I actually have to work. However, the good news about it is that I am ecstatic about teaching elementary school Spanish children.

My first day began as most travels day do for me; me setting off with a map, an address and no idea where I'm going. I picked up the bus early which took me right along the sea for a beautiful drive to relax and write in my journal. First I go through a city called Torre del Mar, and then onto the city I teach in, Velez-Malaga. My roomies told me that there were two routes buses to Velez will go on through the city, one which would drop me off about 3 blocks away from my school on the main road and the other that would weave around the small streets of the city. Guess which one I got on. Yup, you guessed right. Luckily I had my handy dandy map of the city and a very nice bus driver who was willing to show me where we were on my map. Andalucians are so friendly.

So, I took off on my walk. I had purposefully taken an early bus because I knew this would happen and I would need extra time to navigate. As you will find, luck doesn't seem to find me with traveling, but it always makes it more interesting. Velez is absolutely beautiful. Snow capped mountains, foothills and an old castle all perch above the city filled with streets you can stretch your arms out to and almost touch both sides. I loved Barcelona when I studied there last spring, but I love seeing smaller villages and towns where the culture is more thick than a cosmopolitan city. Everyone was out and about, drinking coffee, talking to their neighbors, or strolling with intent on their morning errands.

I found my way to my school somehow after a couple of embarrassing stops making my map appear to be as small as possible while attempting to find small streets. It's in a beautiful, quiet barrio in the top of the city where the castle and foothills are visible in the distance. However, schools in Spain have a gate all the way around them. Therefore, I didn't know how to get in. I was like, OK, I'm here, I can't get in. The main gate had a lock on it. I decided to creepily walk around the entire circumference of the school looking for a different opening. No luck. So I did the next thing I'm good at - which is ask for directions. I found a little car store and explained to the woman that I was a new English teacher at the school and that I didn't know how to get in (how was this woman not sketched out by that...a teacher that can't get into the school) and she told me I had to push a white button and I would be let in. Couldn't find a white button. So I asked a nice couple walking their dog, explained the same sketchy story, and they pushed the button for me. Wow. Special Kenz was out this morning despite my cup of Spanish coffee that morning thanks to my roomie Courtney.

I got in and was greeted by the director with dos besos of la Herrera de la Alacusa (my school). He was excited and brought me to the main linguistic teacher I will be working with, a woman of about 50 named Esperanza. She is absolutely beautiful and extremely kind and welcoming. Another dos besos. I missed those.

It's now Sunday, so my first week is over. What a week. But I have good news -- I am absolutely in love with my job as a teacher. While I am nothing short of overwhelmed for the amount of work and dedication I'll be putting into these children and this school's English program, I've decided to embrace it. These Spanish children are so cute and so eager to learn English. I can't believe I'm going to make an impact and impression regarding American culture and the English language. The sad truth is that English is one of main shared languages of the world. It's the international language for travel, science and business. I feel like I have such an important job to provoke these kids' interest in the subject. I know that their English adventure in life doesn't completely rest on my shoulders, but I could have a part in it. I love that, and I'm so excited to jump in head-first.

In order to understand why I'm overwhelmed, the nature of the program I'm teaching through is important to understand. The government from the region of Spain I am in, Andalucia, initiated a program to bring over native English speakers to incorporate as language and culture assistants in schools around the region. So, the government gives people like me stipends to live off of, as well as higher budgets to schools who decide to opt into the program. OK total side tangent, but I just realized a week ago that "opt" was an abbreviated form of the word option. Yes I know, sometimes I wonder how I get through the day too. Anyways, elementary schools, middle schools, high schools and even adult language schools can choose to be part of the program. Each school is in its "Year x" (insert number of years part of the program as x). Last year was year zero for my school, which meant that a native speaker was there mostly organizing materials to begin the program in the classrooms the next year. I've come to find out that his name was Patrick and he was from MN as well. So because of this, a majority of my school knows little or no English, including the teachers. The program is new, and I am literally breaking ground in the classrooms I am in.

While this is obviously an exciting adventure to be part of, I feel like it is a lot of responsibility. I love it because I am actually teaching in Spanish a lot of the time, explaining the equivalent word or phrase in English and how we use it. I also am explaining our culture as Americans to the students in Spanish, whether it's the fact that a lot of us like eggs for breakfast (many Spaniards eat very little like a piece of bread and coffee) at 8 a.m. (early for many of them), or that in Minnesota we fish on top of ice. I'm constantly conjugating verb tenses, answering questions and adapting to the accent that is so strong here. It's so difficult. Shy children who speak softly are hard to hear before they use the Andalucian accent which turns c's and z's into th's. The worst part is that they don't pronounce entire words. They literally drop the end of the word. Gracias = grathia. It's hard to understand from the accents I have learned in the past but I'm committed to learning and speaking it, even if I don't like the sound of it.

I travel around to all different ages of classrooms with different teachers and I am given free range to teach the children the vocabulary, verbs and phrases they are working on in their books. Most of the teachers just stand aside and let me talk and explain in both Spanish and English. It's crazy. Sometimes I look out the windows to the foothills of the city and see the abandoned castle while I'm teaching and am just like oh my gosh, I'm really here doing this. Like I said, a lot of the teachers don't speak any English. We take breaks from 11 to 11:30 and all of the teachers are gathered around the Spanish coffee pot downing coffee, yelling in their Andalucian Spanish. It's like they say, they don't talk here -- they yell. I just can't believe it.

I have so much to say about my new job. Maybe more later. I'm happy though, excited and optimistic. I don't think that there is a better feeling. I'm excited to see my kids again soon. It's such a horrible feeling to think about leaving them already, and I've only been here for a week.

Ciao.

Ganas (Goals)

A very wise person told me that I should write my goals down for my time in Spain in this blog so that other people could hold me accountable for accomplishing them. Being the dreamer that I am, I have a million. I know that I don't have time to accomplish all of these, but I think I would like to complete/accomplish/experience at least 6 of these. I'm sure I'll add to these with time. So, hold me accountable to my word please amigos : )

Oh yes, this is a picture out our backbeach, where I hope to accomplish my running goal. Can I combine that like backyard? Well, I just did.

The Ganas:

1)Learn how to cook Spanish cuisine.

2)Maintain a language and culture "intercambio".

3)Run 4 times a week on the beach.

4)Hike once a week to a different foothill in Rincón de la Victoria.

5) Learn the Spanish guitar.

6) Learn to salsa dance.

7) Learn to surf.

8) Make Spanish friends. Only speak in Spanish.

9) Take a set of photos at the beginning of my time here and then at the end as my feelings for my surroundings change. I want to see how I see things initially compared to at the end. I'd like to photograph my city, Rincón de la Victoria, Málaga and the city I teach in, Velez-Málaga.

10) Be a regular at a bar. To meet locals, haha, not just drink.

11) Play checkers with the elderly Spaniards at the bus station.

12) Really understand the layout of the city.

13) Gain a legitimate wine knowledge regarding the different regions of Spanish wine.

Hmmm. Ya, that's it for now. 8/3/2010