Dia de Accion de Gracias

Understandably, the teachers at my school love weeks with American Holidays. The weeks of Halloween, the Super Bowl, Valentine's Day, and of course this past Thanksgiving week, they hand every class over to me and sit and grade papers while I show YouTube Vidoes and gab on and on about American traditions. While this requires very little of me, it becomes unbelievably mind numbing to repeat the same 50 min. lesson on the Pilgrims 16 times in 4 days. Plus there's really only so many times you can talk about Thanksgiving and family without becoming homesick. Add on top of that the looming fear I had all week that I might not be able to find any traditional food in Spain, and I'm not going to lie, but I was beginning to dread my first Thanksgiving away from home.

But then two packages (one from my mom and one from my roommate's) arrived. Boxes of stuffing, pie mix, slim jims (sidenote to my mom: while I appreciate the gesture, Slim Jims are not vegetarian. Probably not really meat though either), mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and a tofurkey all managed to dodge customs. After procuring some fresh veggies I began to believe that Thanksgiving was a-go.

Spain, however, decided to fight me and my American friends tooth and nail and repeatedly challenged us for our beloved day. Evaporated milk for the pies was nowhere to be found in the grocery stores. Screw you Spain, I boiled down my own milk and added polenta for texture. And so what if there are no can openers here? A sharp pair of scissors will do nicely.

 So with very few pans, a small kitchen, and about 5 determined cooks, me and my friends ended up with a pretty decent spread.

But now, for your entertainment....

The top 5 Thanksgiving Misconceptions from my students that peppered my week with a little humor.

5) About 1/3 of my students believe we eat chicken on Thanksgiving. And only about 1 student per class truly understands what a pie is. Since there is no direct translation of the word into Spanish, when asked what a pumpkin pie was, the kids described everything from a pumpkin cake to a pumpkin empanada to something close to an orangish donut.

4) That Pocahontas is nothing more than a Disney character. I know this isn't directly related to Thanksgiving, but I mentioned the braided Indian princess as a reference for a group of 16 year olds in order to explain who the Native Americans were. They all laughed and said "pero ella no existe."

3) I gave my students a worksheet with multiple choice questions about Thanksgiving. One of the questions was "What was the name of the Pilgrims ship? a) Pinta b) Mayflower c) Black Pearl" One student was convinced the answer was c).

2) There is no "holiday season" here in Spain. There is Christmas. There is New Years. There is Three Kings Day. But they are not grouped into one idea like they are in the US. Therefore when shown a clip of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade with Santa in it, there was a lot of confusion about what holiday we were actually talking about. I think one student even thought Santa was trying to steal the holiday away from the Tom Turkey float.

Sidenote: I asked my students what they thought of the parade and all it's over-the-top pagentry. One boy said "Only in America." Probably the most astute comment of the week.

1) At the beginning of every class I asked the students what they already knew about Thanksgiving just so I could get a sense of where they were at with the topic. In one class a girl that speaks almost fluent English raised her hand and said that Thanksgiving was a dinner that celebrated the English settlers' arrival in America and the beginning of their attempts to kill all the Indians and steal their land. Not 100% accurate, but not really false either.

K Learns Spanish: Lesson 9

arándanos- cranberries

Pelegrinos- Pilgrims

cosecha- harvest

ciénaga- bog.


Sidenote: be aware that most Spaniards will assume a bog is a bush that produces cranberries.

Ayer

I've often been told that I was born in the wrong decade. I wore bell bottoms throughout middle school, rode in a VW van instead of a convertible as a homecoming rep, and in protest of Bush's reelection burned the bra I was wearing. (Unfortunately for my sister, mom accidentally put Ali's laundry in my drawer that horrid November morning in 2004.) Furthermore it's always been my unreachable dream to see The Beatles in concert.

Yes I know, that became impossible before I was even born. But while you may say that I'm a dreamer, I'm not the only one and this past weekend it happened, I saw The Beatles in concert.

Best. Thing. Ever.

Granted the quality of my cellphone pic does these guys no justice. And sure it was only a Spanish Beatles tribute band that had to don bowl-cut wigs and felt mustaches to look the part, but I am convinced that these talented Spaniards were the closest anyone can get to the real deal now-a-days.

It's a distinct possibility that these guys can't speak a word of English (they sure as hell didn't let any slip between songs), but they could sing not only with perfect accents, but with the same tone and timbre of the original Fab Four. Which of course leads to the question: How does such a tribute band form? How do you know if you can sing like John Lennon? Do you train for years to be like Ringo? Do these talents organically reveal themselves over wine and tapas? Or does destiny bring liked minded men together (regardless of country or native language) to form kickass tribute bands? I (of course) have a theory.

But to fully explain the theory let me start from the beginning. First off the show was in a concert hall that has been converted to a discotec (yes they still use that phrase here). But not just any discotec, one known for its amazing dance floor, exorbitant prices, and high hookup probability. So you can imagine my surprise when my roommates told me that a 15 Euro Beatles tribute concert was being held there.

We were probably the youngest people in the concert by a good 15-20 years. Being from Florida, this is something I'm used to. However, I am not used to a 51 year old women that is clearly tripping on acid coming up to me and pointing out my youth and then insulting my dance moves. To her credit this women did have some killer moves. She did the running man to "I Wanna Hold Your Hand", cabbage patched to "Michelle", and head-banged to "Drive My Car". She alone was worth the ticket price.

But once my group of friends moved a little closer to the stage (and a little further away from the lady who had begun to check out the dudes in our group) I realized that it sounded like the concert was in awesome surround sound. Like the quality you'd use to watch Return of the Jedi. I turned around to see if we'd moved in front of a speaker. No, something better. We'd moved in front of a group of 30-something men singing along. They knew every song, every word, every harmony. Then it dawned on me: this was how these bands were formed. The guys behind me would one day become the guys in front of me on the stage. And when that day came, another group of gents would come to the concert and while singing along in the back, find each and form a band with. A beautiful circle of life.

K Learns Spanish: Lesson 8

bigote- moustache. As in: Los bigotes nunca son buenos.

vela- candle.

ayer- yesterday, where all your troubles seem so far away.

Segovia: Beauty and the Beastly Americans

This Saturday some friends and I went on a little excursion. Sick and tired of spending our weekend days hungover in Madrid, we decided to visit a magical little town called Segovia. And honestly before we boarded the bus, that's about all we knew about the town. I suspected that it was in the north and although my Spanish Fodor's book had 4 whole pages dedicated to the city, I hadn't (and still haven't) read them. Still I'm a big learn by doing gal. Here's what I learned, saw, or deduced from my visit to Segovia.

1) Segovia is baller!

Built on a Spanish hillside there are awesome views all over the city. After getting off the bus we headed for the first thing we saw: a giant Cathedral.

This required us to hike up a buttload of stairs and I quickly realized that Segovia isn't so much on a hill, but on the geographical formation between a hill and a mountain, a formation Merriam Webster has failed to supply me the word for. But once you get up there you can see forever. There are also old castle-like walls that go around the city, but let you climb up even higher (and possibly more safely) for photos.

2) There's this one corner in the town that when you turn all the sudden you see this...

Holy hell! Who put that there? Judging by the wolf-teet sucking statue of Romulus and Remus across from these Aqueducts, twas the Romans. Apparently the Romans made it all the way to Segovia and left these behind.

2a) One thing that constantly amazes me about living in Europe is people's ability to meld their modern lives together such beautiful and historical sights. I mean honestly, how do you walk past these things everyday and go to a crappy job without feeling like an immensely insignificant part of history? And nothing I've seen before has astounded me as much as these Aqueducts. People just walk past, staring at their iPods instead of them.

3) They eat a lot of suckling pig, or cochinillo. This pork is apparently so tender and juicy that the locals cut it with a plate, not a knife. As a vegetarian I did not partake in this traditional cuisine, but I did enjoy a nosefull of the aroma every time we passed a restaurant.

4) Disney based it's Beauty and the Beast castle off the Alcazar in Segovia. The bridge, the garden, the windows, the blocked off west wing, the woods where Father gets lost and attacked by wolves. It's all there. I'm pretty sure a candelabra talked to me as well.

And the best part is that you can walk around more of this castle than any other historical building I've ever been to. Nothing is in glass cases or really protected by anything more than a "No tocas" sign.

5) Never push your luck in Segovia as there is no wood to knock on. The town is made completely of brick (not that it did the cochinillo piggies any good). So as the day continued we began to realize how much we'd lucked out on our trip. The weather was one of the few nice days that Spain has seen in the past few weeks. The people were nice. The town was easy to get around. Transportation had been simple. There were even cute little gatitos running around to entertain us. Then there was dinner.

We found a great pasta place with super cheap food and sangria and had a nice meal. About half-way through another group of Americans walked in and sat at the table next to us. From the parts of their conversation that we overheard, it's a fair assumption to say that these were not nice people. Then when they left one of the girls went up to the waiter (who had been taking care of the restaurant all by himself) and asked him, "Do people make fun of you when you try to speak English?" The waiter said something we couldn't hear and the girl asked him again, "Do people make fun of you because you can't speak English?" The waiter answered in Spanish and the girl turned around to her friends and said "See that exactly proves my point," and then strutted out of the place.

Now granted I have no idea what this girl's "point" was or why she was even asking such a ridiculous question of a man in Spain, but as Americans everyone of us at our table immediately went rigid. We could tell from this girl's tone, posture, and ponytail flick that she meant to embarrass and talk down to this guy. And to think, until then I wondered why the rest of the world dislikes Americans.

K Learns Spanish: Lesson 7

moretón- bruise

constipado- Not what you think. It actually means to be congested from a cold.

tirita- bandaid

Sidenote to Mom: No I was not sick, nor did I fall down a flight of stairs this week. Rather it was health vocab week in my classes.

GoGos- As in the dancers. Still rockin it out around here. They've lost the boots though.

You Might Be an American If....

Last week was a banner week for this Americana; I was only pegged as an American twice before speaking a word of English. The first time it happened I was walking down an only mildly touristy street when a Nigerian man (he had to tell me this because I unfortunately can not deftly identify nationalities) tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Hello, you are American, no?” When I asked him how he knew, he shrugged his shoulders and said with a questioning tone, “You’re smile. No European smiles like that.” I’m fairly certain I was not smiling while walking and listening to Nirvana on my iPod.

The second time, I was at Cien Montaditos, a restaurant that only requires you say a number to order. I’d like to think that during the course of my Spanish education I learned how to properly pronounce something as fundamental as numbers, but alas, apparently this is not true. The man smiled at me and said, respectfully in Spanish, “Where are you from?”

Clearly I still have more assimilating to do, but nonetheless this is a huge improvement from my first few weeks when people automatically spoke to me in English (which was always worse than my Spanish) or talked loudly and with grandiose gestures, something I thought only Americans were famous for.

Here are some signs I have learned for identifying (or avoiding being identified as) an American.

1) Speaking English- Duh, right? But it’s not just about walking into a grocery store and saying, “Where da ya’ll keep the cheeseburgers?” What I hadn’t realized until recently is that the human ear has evolved to pick out unfamiliar sounds. So even when a group of friends and I are in a crowded plaza speaking (not yelling) English, people are easily able to turn and find us because the odd words stick out more readily to them.

2) The Pitbull Inversion Effect- I’m sure there has been a time when you’ve heard a song featuring Latino rapper Pittbull around other people. Either in a car, at a club, or even when someone is singing the song because it’s stuck in their head. Invariably, when singing along, native English speakers know all of the English lyrics, but the moment Pittbull switches it up with some Spanish words. the singer can only sputter a few words and the rest turns into a jumble of unrolled r’s and vowels. The inverse happens here in Spain. So if you’re out a club shouting lyrics when everyone else is mumbling, chances are you’re American

2a) As long as we’re on the subjects of clubs… Having spent time in Europe before I already knew that they really can’t dance over here. Because of this all American dancers, no matter how well they can actually drop it like it’s hot, seem like Beyonce here. Therefore Americans can almost always be found towards the center of the dance floor, with the most eyes watching them.

3) Finding Safety and Comfort in Crosswalk Signals- As a rough guestimate, I’d say about a third of all intersections in Madrid have pedestrian crossing signals. When there is no signal, it is just assumed that cars will yield to pedestrians. Raised in a society that encourages everyone to look both ways without the green walking man, American’s will pause on the curb, lean way out to check for cars/alert them of someone crossing, and then wait until the car stops to go into the street. And they will also give a grateful wave and a nod to the car as they go past.

Interestingly, Spaniards seem to have as little comfort with crosswalk signals as we have without them. Americans know how to sense when the lights will change and will always be the first people to cross, without looking, when they’ve (officially) got the right away. Spaniards, however, will wait. Probably wanting to make sure the Green Man won’t suddenly turn red, inviting cars to hit the tricked J-walkers.

4) The Presence of Child-bearing Hips (or any hips)- Big-boned: I always used to smirk at this euphemistic phrase, but now that I’m in Spain I feel like it can have actual meaning. Relatively speaking, apparently any one from the Land of Free, Home of the Brave is big-boned. Everyone knows America is the most obese country in the world, but it would seem we also have different and larger frames. No Americans that I know here are overweight, yet when shopping we all have to buy larges, simply to get the seams to line up correctly on our shoulders and hips. Although I’m sure my height also gives me away (at 5’ 8” (no I still haven’t figured out what that is in centimeters) I tower over most of the population) I think it’s also the curves of my frame. Now if you know me dear readers, you are probably laughing. You’re aware of the fact that except for my rear, I have the body shape of a plank of wood. But compared to the slender ladies lilting around here, I’m a freaking Amazon with curves more dangerous than a Californian coastal road.

Note: This one can only be used to spot female Americans.

5) Crossing of the Arms- This was the first thing I noticed. I was waiting to cross the street (without a crossing signal) and noticed I was the only one around with their arms crossed. “Self,” I said, “this is odd.” Then I continued noticing it at other times: talking to people, sitting on the metro, standing anywhere. I was the only one crossing my arms. I asked other more Spanish-experienced Americans if they’d noticed this. They quickly informed me that here arm crossing is a sign of aggression. So while we cross our limbs out of habit, discomfort, or boredom, in Spain it’s kinda like… well like no gesture we really have, but it definitely signifies that you’re a little tee-ed off. However if you absolutely can’t keep your arms at your sides, one arm across the chest is acceptable.

6) Acknowledging the Existence of Non-neutral Colors- I read Cosmo, I know that this season earthy tones are in, but here that’s all they wear. Brown, black, grey, beige, camel, charcoal, taupe, dusty sand. I never knew there was another rainbow made up of such muted tones. If you throw in some purple, red, or heaven forbid a bright blue, they will know you’re an American.

K Learns Spanish: Lesson 6

podrir-to rot; podrido-rotten

calabaza- pumpkin
As in: La calabaza de Halloween ya esta podrida
(double word use bonus)

Note: This can also be used to refer to any yellow squash

ingresar- to deposit money

El Arte de Aparcamiento

The first time I saw someone park a car in Madrid it was my elderly landlord. So as he repeatedly hit the bumpers of both the car in front of and behind him with his European-sized SUV, my Florida upbringing and elderly prejudices kicked in. I assumed this was just a consequence of age.

But then I started actually looking at the fine work Madrileños do when parking their cars. Now as someone that has looked many a doubter in the eye and said "Screw you. I will fit my car in that tiny spot," I must say here they have it down to an art form.

Not only do the Spanish fit their cars into the tiniest spaces possible, but they also get liberal, if not creative, in their interpretation of the term "parallel park."

Enjoy these following exhibits of Fine Spanish Parking...

You can't see it from the photo, but this car is equally close to the one behind it.

I like to think that these few are artistic pieces affronting Spanish Society. Of course I'm unsure what it is the pieces are taking on. Perhaps they are speaking (or parking) out against the economic catastrophe created by the government,

or against conformity,

or simple against material excess by refusing to recognize these bricks that are clearly being wasted and taking a perfectly good spot.

And while 3 European cars can fit into a spot built for 1 American car and driver, this car covers 3 regular spots, proving double parking is double the fun.

Now dear readers, I'm about to share with you something I have never told anyone because society has taught me to be ashamed of this particular action. When I was 18, I got my first (of admittedly many) parking tickets. I was running late to work and saw an open spot on a one way street. Now I was coming perpendicular to that street and the spot was on the right hand corner. Although all the other cars were facing the other direction, I took the spot because in my mind I knew I could just back out of the spot returning to the non-one-way street without ever technically be in a traffic lane going the wrong direction. The Stuart Police Department disagreed. Now I know that I was not in the wrong, but rather in the wrong country.

SPD, you can send a written apology and the refund of my $10 fine to my address here in Madrid.

Now I give you the pièce de résistance of the Spanish Parking Art Movement. A parking masterpiece so treasured that when I tried to get a picture of it, a man came out of an alleyway and yelled at me to get away like I'd tried to take a tracing of the Mona Lisa.

Yes ladies and gents, that's car on a stairwell. And don't think that this is a one time thing, I pass this alley everyday and each time there is a different car descending (or sometimes ascending) those escaleras.

K Learns Spanish: Lesson 5

escaleras- stairs

parachoques- bumper. Literally translated as "for crashing" but apparently in everyday use and on the streets it means "love-tapping the crap out of another cars until the allow you to park between them"

topo- mole, of the animal variety.

vampiro- vampire as in "Buffy: La Cazavampiros".