Alicante

A few weeks ago, I attended a training session in Alicante for my volunteer organization. It was a three-day weekend, all expenses paid, so I figured it was a good opportunity to 1) learn a lot; 2) meet cool people; and 3) see a new city. I was successful on all accounts, but it wasn't all ebullient sessions with charming professionals and me at my brilliant best in an amazing beach-side town. It was... something else.

I have a really late schedule here in Madrid, so I knew when I saw that the sessions started at 9:30 a.m. that I better try to start waking up a little earlier a few days before the conference. A few days became one... the day that I had to take the four-hour train from Madrid to Alicante. So, I started the trip on about 5 hours of sleep, but I was sure I could recoup it that night. I took the train with a fellow volunteer and friend, which made the delirious voyage easier to manage... almost pleasurable.

When we arrived and checked in, we found that we were just in time for dinner. We freshened up, dropped our bags, and headed down for some traditional Valencian paella! We ended up at a table with three guys from Jerez, which is in Andalusia in the southern part of Spain, and one guy from the Canary Islands, a Spanish province off the coast of Morocco. I had heard stories from my students about people from the south as well as people from the Canaries. Their accents are difficult for Spaniards at times, so for me in my sleep deprived state, it was like a train wreck of confusion, right there at the dinner table. My friend is from Ecuador, and has only been in Madrid a month, so first thing after the introductions, one of the guys from Jerez made a crack to the next guy who joined the table (from Cordoba) that he hoped that he wasn't also from another continent. I did not find it funny, but after a little while straining to understand, and adding a little bit to the conversation here and there, I realized that they were generally nice. But their accent was nearly impossible for me to decipher :(

Before bed, the conference coordinator reminded us all that we needed to be downstairs by 8 a.m. for breakfast to make sure that the conference started on time... WHAT?! I skipped the first night bar crawl in the hopes of catching up on sleep, but I awoke the next morning to my very kind roommate's very nice way of chiming me into consciousness having only gotten a total of about five hours of restless sleep. I was COMPLETELY delirious by this point.

I made it to breakfast and was in my seat right on time for the training, but it was a long and tough ride until lunch. When we broke for lunch, I was so relieved, but ended up at the table with the same group again. This time, I literally did not understand anything. They were all joking and speaking in total street slang, and everyone kept bursting out in UPROARIOUS laughter. My blank expression made it completely obvious that I didn't understand. I just bowed my head and ate as quickly as possible, and then escaped to my room where I skipped the next session and napped for three luxurious hours.

When I made it downstairs for the following session, I realized that I had missed the speaker that I really wanted to hear due to scheduling changes, and got stuck sitting through the one that I'd already pretty much heard in another training conference. WHATEVER. At least I was well rested for that night's bar crawl.

Alicante is a resort city on the Mediterranean coast that fills with tourists in the summer time. They come to take advantage of the beautiful beaches on the Costa Blanca (white coast) and to party until dawn in the abundant bars and discos in the city center. While a visit in November is not the same experience, I'm sure, there is still a pretty hopping scene, and of course, they still party until dawn. Spaniards would not have it any other way.

We all met in front of the hotel at midnight and went out as a group of at least 20 wandering in the cool night air. The first place we went was El Forat, the oldest gay bar in Alicante. Very nice, cool people, pretty good Latin dance music, fun, although it kinda looked like someone's kitschy living room. One of the folks in the group was a male-to-female transgender woman named Erika. She was probably about 6-foot-2 barefooted, and pretty rotund, but a TOTAL fashion victim and always the center of attention. She kept telling us that she wanted to show us her special dance routine set to this Latin pop song, but the DJ didn't have it. She suddenly decided to improvise to whatever was on at the time, and it was like Divine overtaken by an epileptic fit. She was flailing her limbs in every direction, her head spinning around like in the Exorcist or something, literally flinging people off the dance floor. One of them hit me, and I almost broke the mirror on the wall behind me trying to get out of the way. The best part was that she had NO idea that she was creating such a scene. Like half of the people on the dance floor (the ejected ones) were glaring at here or just looking kind of confused and bewildered, and she, hair flying in circles, giggling, forever sexy, the seductress to us all. I LOVE HER!!!

After the dance incident, half the group had already split off into various factions and left to other bars and discos. Finally, our faction decided to go to Missing, supposedly the most happening disco. I was on the verge of returning to the hotel, but a couple of nudges and *poof* - insta-disco-boy. The disco was your usual vapid gay pickup scene. I think that there must have been some rule that you had to be under 18 with a fake ID to get in, but somehow our ENTIRE group slipped by security. The music was good, the energy was fun, and I stayed as long as I could keep my eyes open. By 4 a.m., I knew I needed to go, so checked with the other folks and finally found that Miss Erika and one of the Andalusians were ready. We wandered the streets and stopped at a late night store to keep with Erika's traditional after-bar Pringles tradition. We talked about nothing and enjoyed it while we got lost and then found our way again, and FINALLY ended up at the hotel by some act of divine intervention. I accidentally came across a tourist site on the way, so snapped a quick photo with my phone cam.

Alicante's Central Market

So, I made it back in time to get a little more sleep than the previous two nights. Due to the aforementioned scheduling change, the sessions didn't start until 11 a.m. the next day. (Perhaps God's way of making up for the cruel Southern accents situation.) We were done by 2 p.m., giving us just enough time to take a stroll along the beach at sunset! The weather was much nicer than in Madrid - probably about 75 degrees and sunny. The first thing we saw when we got onto the beach was the 16th century Santa Barbara Castle.



The beach was virtually empty, and the water FREEZING, but we had to check, right? Don't worry, we just rolled up our pants and waded. Alicante's white sandy beaches are one of the big tourist draws to this area, and I must say, this one was pretty nice. There was a pretty intricate sand sculpture about mid-way down the beach.



After wandering for a while, we sat on the boardwalk and listened to the drummers in the distance while the sun set.



Then, it was back to grab our bags and catch the four-hour train back to Madrid. Tired, but with heads full of new knowledge and strange experiences to remember.

Stop!

In 1999, the United Nations designated November 25th as the National Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women. I was not aware of this until I moved to Spain, where one of my first impressions was that of a society rife with male on female violence. There is literally something in the news about it at least once a week.

In December of 2004, the Spanish congress passed a pretty comprehensive law to combat this problem. The law puts in to place new resources for abused women, and includes legal reform to make it easier to prosecute perpetrators, as well as an educational component, a public relations component, and two new government agencies to help coordinate efforts. The government has also launched a media campaign to counter violence against women that features prominent Spanish soccer players speaking out on the topic.

Unfortunately, 61 women in Spain have already been murdered this year at the hands of their husbands, boyfriends, or ex-boyfriends (often as a murder/suicide). This is already more than the entire year last year, but fewer than the 70+ killed in 2004. With such a high number of murders related to domestic violence, I can only imagine what percentage of relationships have some sort of abuse that doesn't end in death.

Subway Ad Denouncing Domestic Violence

As with many statistics that are reported on a countrywide basis here, I wondered how the numbers compared in the U.S. Sure enough, there were 1,247 women killed by an intimate partner there in 2000. This is a much higher percentage than in Spain (1,247/300,000,000 compared to 61/40,000,000). So much for the theory that high levels of violence against women are a byproduct of unchecked machismo in latin cultures.

UPDATE November 27, 2006

I just read a news story in ADN that further expands on this information. The Council of Europe is holding a conference on the subject of domestic violence among EU member states that started today in Madrid. The council commended Spain as being a pioneer in legal reform related to domestic violence, and a possible model for other European countries. Approximately 1 in 5 women in Europe have experienced physical violence in their lifetime according to the COE website. The Christian Science Monitor also published a good story that goes into more detail about the various aspects of the Spanish legislation.

Life as an English Teacher
(How to Turn Off the Headlights and Turn on the Light Bulb)

I was a little apprehensive about teaching English when I decided to move to Spain. As it's the primary occupation for English-speaking foreigners, and probably one of the more lucrative, I knew that it was what I needed to do. I shelved my fear of speaking in front of groups and decided to just go for it.

Initially, it was good. My first position was at a very yuppie insurance company with students that had a really advanced level of English. I basically just needed to bring news articles and materials to facilitate a discussion and everything ideally would flow from there. I hated trying to find things of interest without being controversial, but I think for the most part I succeeded. Aside from a little attitude from this group of young guys in one class, generally things went smoothly.

Over the summer, everyone in Madrid flees to the beach or to other countries for vacation, and the English jobs pretty much dry up. I only had one intensive class with a young woman who worked for a consulting firm and one private student during this time. When the fall classes started up again, I placed a couple of ads for my services on popular internet boards here. I was immediately overwhelmed with calls and emails. I have finally been able to pretty much work out a schedule with a good balance between earnings and free time. The challenge has been the students in the new classes.

I think I was spoiled by the VERY advanced level of my first classes. I basically could talk to them about whatever - politics, religion, society, culture. We had similar interests, and I found their insights into current events really interesting in contrast to my American perspective.

Well, now I have several classes that are supposedly intermediate, but often when people speak about levels here, well, they can be a little deceptive. Due to the method of teaching in Spanish schools in the past (I think it's a little better now, but they NEVER spoke in class), the conversation level is much lower than you would expect at the different levels. Since I had no formal teaching experience upon my arrival, I wasn't really equipped to deal with students who couldn't really speak. Fortunately, my Spanish is good. (For detail, see prior Hablo Español entry.)

For example, I just recently added a class of business professionals. My boss at the academy said that due to a problem with scheduling, he needed to swap out my advanced group with an intermediate group similar to another intermediate group I have, but with a lower level. I was like, LOWER LEVEL, is that possible? Getting my current intermediate group to speak was like pulling teeth. So, I arrived the first day, and tried to speak to them in English, and they were like deer in headlights - horrified and only able to utter the most simple phrases, riddled with errors. Ugh. To compound the fun, everyone had been taught by British instructors in the past, so my accent really puts the FOREIGN into foreign language.

Their horror and confusion just compounded my nervous insecurity, and I scrambled for things to do that they could understand. I started with a lower intermediate level activity that I had used in one of my other classes, and about five minutes into it, one woman said, "This is really difficult language for us." I was like, OK, well, let me know if you have questions, and we can move to something easier after reading through this. I gave them a homework assignment to answer a few basic questions over the article, and the next class, neither of them (there are 2 in the class) had done the homework, and one didn't even bother to bring the printout of the activity so we could discuss. I started with the next activity, the EASIER one, supposedly, and they were still struggling, not listening, drifting off into daydreams in the middle of a discussion. Finally, when they completely ignored my instructions and started doing the activity following the one we were supposed to be doing, I got frustrated with them, it was obvious, and I felt a little bad for acting so annoyed. SIGH.

I know from my other higher-level lower-level group (?!) that they probably just need time to become accustomed to my accent, time to practice, to refresh their memory on English after the summer break. I also think that when we get more familiar with one another, I'll have a better idea of how they operate, what they like and dislike, and how to best tailor the class to their needs. In the meantime, I'm practicing patience and tolerance. I'm sure I have as much to learn in this situation as they do :)

Hablo Español

One of my primary reasons for moving to Spain was to improve my Spanish. After six months in Costa Rica, I never really felt like I could claim to be bilingual. I knew from my previous experience that there would be a transition period, that my Spanish wouldn't just "take off" and I'd be speaking like a native, but I had no idea how long and slow this process would be. I've finally developed a pretty good fluidity from day to day, but it's still really dependent on my brain state, how much sleep I had, how much I've been reading, writing, speaking in English. Unfortunately, I can never fully immerse myself, as I always have to have part of my brain in English to teach my classes as well as to communicate with "my people" in the states.

I have finally accepted that I'll never speak Spanish like a native, that I'll always have a strong accent, that sometimes, I'll sound like I'm speaking pigeon Spanish. I don't have to like it, but I accept it. Then there are other times, like at a birthday dinner for a friend a few weeks ago, when it just really flows. I was cracking jokes (humor is one of the last to show through), participating in deep political discussions, actually being MYSELF in Spanish. It was a milestone. The next morning, I woke up speaking like a gorilla again, but at least I had fleeting moments.

I recently spoke to an Irish translator who has lived in Madrid for 17 years, and asked him how long it takes to achieve a level where you can work as a translator. He said that he's still learning things after 17 years! Not heartening news, but he mentioned that most of his new knowledge now is when he has a project for a client in a subject area with very specific language, like chemistry or law.

Anyway, after more than three years of university studies and two stints abroad, I hope that I'm inching closer to my goal of bilingualism. I just have to say that I have a great deal of compassion for immigrants to the United States now. It is really difficult, at times horrifying, to plant yourself in a different culture, especially if they speak a different language. The scary thing is that Spain is very similar to the U.S. I can't imagine going somewhere in Asia or Africa, where the customs are totally different. Maybe next blog will be coming at you from Zimbambwe... MORE nervous breakdowns, even STRONGER feelings of isolation and alienation, a quicker descent into MADNESS!!! Kidding, hehe.

The Price of Politics

I recently read a news story about the record-breaking $500 million in political ads spent in California alone in this year's elections in the U.S. In addition to the horror I feel about the fact that such a huge sum is wasted on political lies and mudslinging, I am actually kind of ecstatic that I got to miss the bombardment this time around.

Spain just held the regional elections for Catalonia, which received a lot of press, since it's the first time since the passage of a referendum earlier this year that expanded the Statute of Autonomy of 1979. I had a few fleeting days of delusion that Spain did not allow political advertising due to the fact that I did not see any television or print ads for this election. Unfortunately, my students assured me yesterday that when there are national elections, they too are bombarded with political ads :( Oh, well. The price of freedom, I guess.

I really wonder if the U.S. can ever really get away from the sound-bite approach to political positioning. And, if we did, would anyone have the time to actually dig in to read the long form on the candidates anyway? I know, some already do, but percentage-wise, I would bet it's a pretty small group. At least I feel like the blogging phenomenon has shifted the balance of power in the information game. Let's hope the trend toward more, varied information continues.

Halloween in Madrid

I think it was about a month ago that I saw a sign in the metro in Spanish that said, "What are you doing for Halloween?" I was like, do they celebrate that in Europe?! Well, in Spain, the answer is YES! The holiday has definitely caught on in the past several years. Apparently, in France, the answer is now NO.

The more important and traditional holiday in Spain is All Saints Day on November 1. This is the day to honor your deceased friends and relatives, much like Memorial Day in the U.S. Most Spaniards have this day off, so if they want to go out for Halloween, at least they have the option to rest up the next day.

I'm going to spare you the pictures of my costume attempts, but let's just say that one of them involved red leather bondage gear, a Scarlett O'Hara skirt and a red wig - just for the record, I really liked this one, but it had some "logistical problems." This directly followed the attempt at pulling something together with real machetes and gold lamé lycra body suits. While these were interesting ideas, we couldn't find anything that had group cohesion, so we ended up being among the costume-less masses - LAME, I know.

My first inkling that it was not just another night came when the macabre go-go boy crew came into the restaurant where we were eating dinner to promote their 3 a.m. show.



Nothing like a little horror and go-go to go with your meal. (Or is that whore to go-go?) So we wandered the streets of Chueca and Malasaña for a while in search of fun people. My students told me that only the adults celebrate Halloween here, but early on, I saw several kids and teens dressed up pretty nicely.




I have grown tired of the endless silver and gold people that have proliferated in San Francisco in recent years, but this guy near Plaza del Sol actually really looked like a statue. When he moved, he had some sort of sound system that sounded like he was shooting his gun. The kids loved it - or ran screaming in fear - but at least he got a reaction!



The costumes ranged from the mildly scary...



...to the mildy gory...



...to the over-the-top cross-dressed...



...to just well-done...



I was just leaving as the throngs of people were streaming into the area around 1 a.m. I just could not bear the thought of another night waiting for the metro to start again. My friend suggested I come back at 9 a.m. when everyone would be congregating in the squares to show off their costumes after their night of fun. I didn't make it, but I saw enough blood and fluff for one night :)