Photo...picking out teas at the teteria8 Octubre 2007, Lunes
This morning, I woke up early to go volunteer at el Sagrado Corazon de Jesus, a small primary school where one of my teachers works. I arrived an hour early and had café con leche nearby while reading a newspaper to pass the time. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when I walked into the loud classroom filled with the chatter of 13 year-old Sevillanos. On the side wall there were banners of English phrases, just like the Spanish ones in our school in the states. One of them said, “Can I borrow your rubber, please?” (with a picture of an eraser…poor misguided children) It was another one of those moments when I wondered how, with so many Americans traveling all over
We introduced ourselves to the class of about thirty or so, and then we divided up into groups to read a story and basically just talk. I had eight or nine kids in a group, and it was so interesting to hear them read in their thick, thick Spanish accents. One of the words we had to practice saying over and over was “favorite…” they kept wanting to say fah-vorit like in Spanish it’s favorito/a, or they could not say “my” it was always, “mi.” They obviously did not want to do the work allotted so we went around and spoke in English (though just like Spanish class in America, these kids DID NOT for the life of them want to speak English, I had to keep yelling at them to stick to ingles) Their favorite singers were Rihanna and “cincuenta cent” which took me a minute to figure out that that meant 50-cent, and then, I tried to explain that if you wanted to be “chullo” (cool) you say “fiddy” which they tried to imitate. I actually learned a lot of Spanish because there were a lot of words that they didn’t know how to say in English and we had a few moments where we didn’t understand each other at all, but overall it was fabulous. There were some cultural things that did not match up, like I asked them what they did over the weekend and some answers were “mi amigos y yo salimos a la calle” (my friends went out into the street, which is something really common in Spain, just hanging out in the streets, but you can’t do that in the states, obviously) or these kids could not remember that futbol in Spain doesn’t equal football in English. I can’t wait to go back, it was so much fun…
During my break between class and class, I went and signed up for an intercambio, a student to practice Spanish with, and was distracted by some very Russian handwriting. It was a girl named ‘Tatiana Smirnova,’ of course I called her and we arranged to meet. I was really excited, but also wrote down a Spanish girl for posterity. (Cristina Perez or something)
After class, dance class (which I decided that is not worth my time because it’s just a bunch of Americans trying to learn from a Spanish teacher who cannot teach very well in a small room, apparently this teacher just believed in somehow knowing the rhythm of things without counting, something that was frustrating…but I will search for authentic classes with other Sevillanas so I cannot be tempted to speak English)
9 Octubre 2007, Martes
Wow. Wow. I just cannot believe what just happened. I met my intercambio today, Tatiana Smirnova. We met up at the university, she didn’t know what I looked like and I had no clue what she looked like, but we decided we would recognize “our own people.” Which we did. I didn’t know what to think when I first saw her, she obviously looked Russian, she had dark dyed hair, was wearing a see through shirt and Capri pants, and also looked quite mature. It’s just mind blowing to think that we really cannot relate to each other’s worlds at all, but in a way there are some common threads which allow you to share your experience with others. Anyway, I digress. She met up with me and we decided to speak Russian, which she commented on my American accent…damn. She told me she is in her first year, but is 31 and had been working before, and had lived in
She described herself as a simple worker, working as a waitress and cleaning lady as apparently many Russians here do. And according to her, there are a huge number of Russians here, who all aggregate in the local park and drink vodka. Like her, they are here without any sort of paperwork and work as illegal immigrants. Many of them have very high levels of education, but cannot find employment in
She is from
As we walked down Avenida Constitución, we decided to go to Café de
“How about here? I’ve never been here before. Do you have Starbucks in
“Of course, Starbucks is an American company. There is a shop on every corner in
Anyhow, we passed the time by speaking in Russian, then Spanish, then English. She complimented me on my Spanish, but was very timid to speak English with me. I always feel so ridiculously American when I speak English with foreigners. It’s something about the ugliness of the accent, I don’t know. She told me that most Sevillanos are too timid to talk to Americans, but like them. It was interesting because she had a pleasant Russian accent when speaking Spanish, something I had never heard before.
Sometime around here, some random Spanish man came up and offered to sell Tatiana earrings. She said no, but he would not stop bothering her, so she told him she would call the police. He, obviously crazy, started yelling at her like a madman, until the man sitting at the next table intercepted. The crazy man began to yell and threaten the unassuming gentleman. At this point, the frazzled Starbucks baristas ran out to see what was going on. (Tatiana and I retreated to the safety inside of Starbucks) They called the police while the man yelled some more, and threatened to throw a chair into the Starbucks. I got a great lesson in Spanish curse words. He walked away still yelling while everyone shook their heads in dismay, and Tatiana told me she had never, ever experienced anything like this in her life, especially in Sevilla, which is known to be safe. Rather shaken, we retreated back to our tables to charlar (chat) some more.
Tatiana is engaged to be married to a Sevillano construction worker in about two weeks. They aren’t having a wedding now because cash is tight and they are working on their piso. (apartment). He called her a few times during our little cita, and it was interesting to hear her talk to him. She hopes that it will be easier to obtain Spanish citizenship when she is married, though I think she doesn’t care too much. Her mother and sister both have moved to Sevilla in search of a better life and have adjusted well. Whenever she talked about her old life, I could tell it was very hard.
She walked me to my bus stop and we said goodbye. Before leaving I mentioned that (OK I haven’t really told anyone this, but I have been seriously giving thought to doing a consulting internship in Russia next summer…it would be easy to get one at a top consulting firm as Russia is a developing country and not too many people speak the language) I might work in Russia next summer, to which she advised me not to. She mentioned that nobody really respects the police and it’s not too safe.
Conclusion:
I got on the bus to go home and called Natalia to relate everything that happened, being in Russian mode, I explained in Russian. As I got off the phone, I didn’t notice that there was a woman sitting next to me. She turned to me and in Russian said something like, “Yes, that’s right, everything she said is true.” I was SHOCKED, now let me tell you, I have never, EVER run into Russian people besides once hearing a loudly yelled phone conversation on the bus, and Tatiana, and here was this woman, not only Russian but oddly choosing to sit next to me. I felt shame creeping up as I tried to remember everything I had said, then realizing I hadn’t said anything to be embarrassed about. She told me she was an economist from
10 Octubre 2007, Miercoles
Today I met my actual Spanish intercambio, Cristina. We met in the bar-cafeteria, me recognizing her by the peach-colored scarf she said she would wear. She had darker olive colored skin, and long, dark curly hair…and braces. She introduced me to her friends and we sat down to talk. She is seventeen and just started the university, wanting to be an English teacher when she finishes. She lives in a pueblo not too far from Sevilla and takes the bus each day to study. Her parents are also teachers and her whole family, grandmothers and aunts included, live in a house together. We talked about everything you can imagine, she showing me pictures of her siblings while I shared pictures of my sobrinos (nephews). Later, her friend Imma came up and joined the conversation. This first time we spoke Spanish the whole time, but the next time it will be English. She complimented my Spanish which was nice, but there were a lot of things I said incorrectly, which I´m glad she corrected me on.
After lunch and a long siesta, Natasha and I met up to explore a part of the city we hadn´t seen before…the Macarena. This neighborhood is quite old and proud of its traditions which date back hundreds of years. The most famous aspect is it´s virgin, the Virgen de Macarena, a porcelain statue of Mary that´s supposed to create miracles. Later, I asked my señora what the story of that particular virgin is, (there are like a million of them all over Spain and Europe, and they all have interesting stories about why the dolls are so sacred) She didn´t know exactly but told me that one time a while ago, a borracho (drunk guy) threw a glass bottle at the virgin´s porcelain face, which should have broken, but instead, developed a bruise. Does that make you holy? I need to Wikipedia the true story…
Photo...the float the Virgen is carried on, the costeleros, or men carrying the darn thing have to practice because its quite heavy
Anyway, so the tradition in Sevilla is that during Semana Santa, the holy week during Lent that Sevilla is so famous for, where all the people walk in processions wearing those creepy conehead outfits the KKK is modeled after and carrying huge, ridiculously heavy floats through the winding streets. The floats all flaunt a virgin that has a veil that is decorated to match the age and prestige the church represented has obtained, for example, the oldest churches carry virgins that have veils yards and yards long, with gold threads weaving through intricate designs, which describes the Virgin of Macarenañs veil. The float is also all gold and crazy decorated. The men carrying the float (usually 50 or so) have to practice for months at a time how to carry this monstrous contraption in unison through all of the turns in the ancient streets of Sevilla.
It cost some nominal fee to enter the museum dedicated to the Virgin, but surprisingly, Natasha crept her way inside, me following her a little shocked, I mean it is a church, right? We tried to join a guided tour, but realized quite quickly it was in Portuguese. Afterwards, she wandered around the Macarena, stopping at a modern tea house so Natasha could satisfy her tea craving and continued on, through the little streets and hundreds year old shops. We passed the Rinconcillo, which I cannot wait to go back and try. It is the oldest tapareria (tapas place) in Sevilla, dating back to 1670, meaning that people here were eating patatas ali-oli and drinkining vino more than a hundred years before my country even began thinking about independence. Speaking of patatas ali-oli, we went to the best tapas place, El Patio Sevillano, and had some, along with this seafood cake, following the promise of trying a new tapa each time which we made a few days ago.
11 Octubre 2007, Jueves
We had film class today at 9 AM, and finished watching Belle Epoque, an Oscar winning film about the
After lunch, Natalia and I walked around Nervion plaza for a bit, and then I went to go work out in my gym. In the evening we went to see a Spanish film called Mataharis about three female detectives in
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