Things I will miss....

As my departure date rapidly approaches I’ve been thinking about all the things that I will miss about living in Toledo, and so I decided to write a list (some of these are a little sarcastic, can you guess which?)

• · Being able to go out of the house without a big jacket most of the year.
• · Free tapas with your drink
• · Buying beer in a litre bottle for a euro
• · Not having to decide if I want to go out until 2am because none of the parties have started until then anyway
• · Outside clubs, ‘nuff said
• · Coming home at 7am after dancing all night and passing out when you get home
• · Being able to speak Spanish with people!
• · Dodgy Spanish hair-dos (more like hair-don’t’s)
• · Nosy neighbours
• · The tiny streets (beautiful, but they mean you’re very likely to get run-down)
• · Reggaeton
• · Camelot (a club bearing more than passing resemblance to a cave which hosted the majority of the Erasmus parties)
• · Erasmus people
• · Erasmus parties
• · Botellon
• · Running by the River Tragus (Rio Tajo)
• · How short the men are
• · The long walk along the river which gives you the most amazing panoramic views of the city (Camino de Don Quijote)
• · Being able to go food shopping at half 8 because Carrefour doesn’t close until 9
• · Not being ID’ed every five seconds when I go out, or even when I want to buy alcohol
• · How beautiful Toledo is and how lucky I feel to live here
• · How relaxed the professors are, to the point where they always turn up 20 minutes late for class
• · How the banks are only open until 2 and never on weekends......
• · Being able to turn up an hour late to everything and no one even bats an eyelid
• The sunset
  
• · Being able to say “Oh I’m living in Spain at the moment”.....

Seriously, the closer I get to leaving, I realise how much I will miss EVERYTHING here, even the things that at the time really p me off....But by the same token, I am very ready to go home to England, and to continue on with my life, wherever it will take me. I’m hoping the road leads back to Spain, even back to Toledo, who knows? I would love to live here again.

Toledo, you will always have a piece of my heart.

:D

It's raining underwear....

I had an exam this morning. I then went to the shop to buy some food. When I got home, I saw my neighbours, a woman and her husband, by the front door, so I rushed forward so I can go through the door with her, to save me using my own key.

Her: Oh, hija, you have a thong that fell down, I pinned it on the bars of the window in the courtyard for you.

Me: (confused, thinking about how I don’t hang my underwear on the line) Erm, ok, but I don’t think they’re mine...

Her: NO! No, you will see that they are yours when you look at them, come and look at them!

Me: (walking to courtyard, and see the pants) Erm, no, it's not mine....

Husband: Look, it’s your underwear!

Her: (to husband) She doesn’t understand! (to me) TAKE THEM! Take them with you, if they’re not yours then they’ll be your flatmates!

Me: Erm, I don’t feel right taking someone else’s pants...

Her: TAKE THEM! Goodbye....

Are we at that point in society where we’re forcing pairs of underwear onto each other?
The mystery continues....

P.S. They still aren’t my underwear, no matter what she tries to tell me. If anyone out there knows whose they are, please get in touch!

Ode to Toledo

I don't often write any more, but this was something inspired by Toledo....

You walk down the cobbled street,
The sun beating down, heat seeping into your skin,
Warming you, flowing through your body into your bones.
You look up, up at the buildings, built in the days of before,
The representation of the past and the promise of new beginnings.
Signs tell you the road, but you don’t care.
You don’t need names. You know where you’re going.
You keep walking, people passing; you are alone.
You are lost in your mind, only accompanied by your thoughts.
Such a beautiful place.
How did you end up here?
You reach a river, the light bouncing off the surface; shimmer.
The bright blue sky, the burning sun, the glimmering water.
How did you end up here? Such a beautiful place.
Buzzing, sounds of insects, gliding their way through life.
How nice to have the whole sky as your destination.
The warmth is still with you, sweat beads glisten on your skin.
How did you end up here?
Sounds of cars, people driving by; you are alone.
Alone with your thoughts.
Such a beautiful place.
No road signs now, you know where you’re going.
How many people have walked this road before you?
How many will walk this road after you?
The infinity of this unique moment. A moment which is now, and forever.
You arrive.
Such a beautiful place.

My Erasmus songs....

These are a mixture of personal favourites that I've listened to a lot whilst being here, songs that are played a lot in clubs, or have simply come out since I've been here....and some are a mixture of all three :) Enjoy!

Rainy Spain!?!

Hola,
This is a particularly English post- it's about the weather. In case any of you reading this are not English, the stereotype about the English obsession with weather is very much true. If there's ever a lull in the conversation, the silence is often filled with, "Oooo what a nice/horrible day it is today!"
Anyway.
The English have this idyllic picture of Spain, of a country made up entirely of beaches, and one that is sunny all year round. Well, for a start, I live in the centre of Spain which, unless you are a bit rubbish at geography, means that there are no beaches around here.
But also, it is RAINY. The past few days it has been stormy, we've had thunder, lightning, torrential rain, the works.
This lead me onto discovering that the Spanish have a saying which goes, "hasta el 40 de mayo no te quites el sayo", which literally translated is "Until the 40th of May, don't take off your raincoat", and so which really means, until the second week of June there isn't good weather all the time. How bizarre is that? Who would've thought Spain had normal weather?
The truth is I realised pretty quickly, after the September sun wore off, that Spain was a bit like England in that it too had rain sometimes. Granted, not as often as England, which is something that I have been SO happy about. I really do hate rain, and it rains far too often at home for my liking.
But anyway, I guess this is a post to highlight to all those people who just assume that I'm out tanning on a beach, that Spain does have places to live away from the coast, and that the sun does not always reign supreme.

I'm still pretty pale actually. Well, for me anyway.
:D

The beginning of the end...

Hello,

This is another post that I’m writing instead of revising like I should be....procrastination ftw....

Anyway, this post is about my leaving Toledo. The end of my Erasmus. Today I have officially a month before I set off for the colder and more rainy climes of Inglaterra. A month may sound like a while, but when you’ve been here for ten months already like I have, it’s a drop in the ocean.

I can’t even begin to explain how long I’ve wanted to and looked forward to living in Spain. I think it must have been since I was 14 that I decided I wanted to live in Spain, and then once I started university and had the prospect of a year abroad in Spain dangled in front of me I was ecstatic. I was nervous as hell, don’t get me wrong; I didn’t sleep for the two weeks before I moved out here, I was so scared. I’ve lived on my own before, and in Spain before, but not for as long. It was scary. I’d have to find somewhere to live, make new friends, speak Spanish all day every day....I would say it has been one of the hardest things I have ever done. But I settled in quickly, became accostumed to speaking Spanish every day, even made the huge leap into buying very Spanish food to cook and eat by myself. It has been a huge learning experience.

The thing is, I’m not sure I want to leave. But I’m not sure I want to stay. I don’t know if you’ve ever been torn between staying somewhere and moving somewhere else; if you have, you’ll know how I feel.

I am ultimately a very English girl- I was born and bred there, my whole family is English, I have a network of friends both where I live with my family and where I study. I am English by culture. But I also adore Spain, the language and the culture. And I especially love Toledo- I fell in love with it here as soon as I came. Even on my darkest days, just being here in this beautiful old city, surrounded by gorgeous scenery has made me realise how lucky I am to have the experience of living here.

The studying part of it....well, the least said about that the better. But the other great part about Erasmus is the social life- I don’t care if teachers tell you to concentrate on studying and to not go out that much, you just can’t do that if you really want to get the full experience. Sure, I moved out here to meet Spanish people, but in the end I got a lot more than that- I’ve met people from all over the world. People I never thought I’d get to meet, people that I never thought I’d find a common ground with. But I have met some very interesting and overall funny people. This experience wouldn’t have been the same without a single one of them.

A lot of people have already started to leave. Whether it’s for trips that they’re doing before their long journey home, or whether they have just gone straight back home, it’s official- it’s the beginning of the end.

I hate goodbyes. Especially to people whom you don’t know when, or whether, you will see them again. I try to stick by the old adage “Don’t be sad that it’s over, just be glad it’s happened”, that is to say, to be glad that I got to meet these people in the first place, and to not be sad that I might not see them again. The world is every smaller these days anyway, what with technology, and the fact that travelling across the world is getting easier by the year!

I know that when I go home, I will be sad because my Spanish experience (for now) will be over...whether I live here again or not is to be decided. I always said that this year would be the real test to see if I could live out here my whole life. And the truth? Well, I can obviously do it. You get used to the culture, and my Spanish improves the more I stay here. I think eventually I could make a life for myself out here. The question would be whether I would ultimately want to do it. Who knows. I can’t bear the thought that I will never get to see Toledo again....but I do believe that a place is really the sum of the location, and the people that are here, the people you spend your time with. Even if I were to return in the future, would it be the same?

I doubt it.

I have so many memories from here. I can’t believe that soon it will be over...However, I am excited for the future. And whatever it may bring.

:)

"I would prefer even to fail with honour to win than by cheating"

Hello,
So I had my first exam of this term today. I won't go into how I did in that exam....that's too painful.
I did however want to share how lax the Spanish are when it comes to their exams.
In England, at least where I go to university, you're not allowed to take anything bar a pencil case (clear), any books you may need (novels, legislation etc) and maybe your phone, but that is to be left underneath your chair, so there is no way you could use it.
Here? Oh, you bring anything and everything in. Your bag, your phone, your kitchen sink, whatever. Well, they don't quite allow you to use your notes in the exam. That would be too good.
The teacher clearly said at the beginning of the exam, "Don't have your mobiles in clear view", as she went around handing out the papers. None of this, "Don't turn over your paper until it's time to begin" nonsense. Everyone sits there flipping through the paper as the rest of the class recieves theirs. There is no "Start NOW!", you start whenever the hell you want.
Now, I did not see this, my classmate did, but apparently one clever Spanish student decided to get his phone out, take a picture of every single page of the exam (with flash) and then, we assume, proceeded to send it to a classmate/friend to give him the answers. All this, and the teacher was walking up and down the classroom, and we'd all been told specifically not to have our mobiles out.
Oh well. I hope he passed, because I'm not sure I did! Maybe he can give me his contact number for next time?
:D
P.S. I am of course joking, I don't condone cheating in any way. Oh, and it's scorching hot here at the moment, I literally feel like I'm melting. I only tan when I go out for my hour long walks around the river (which I do about twice a week) so I'm not even *that* tanned. And I'm living off salad because anything else is too heavy. It's a good life!

"Children are just like, miniature people!"

Hey guys,

I was going write about this aaaaages ago, but for some reason I never got round to it (read: I am extremely lazy and procrastinate from EVERYTHING).

Basically, it’s about my experience of being a babysitter here in Toledo. If you’re reading this and you know me well, you’d know that I was an au pair in Barcelona for two months during the summer of 2009. I’m not going to write about that right now because that would be, well, not even another blog post; there are far too many stories from that time....

Anyway, as I’d had that experience, I thought it would be good to do something similar here in Toledo, even if it was just a boost of cash (which God knows we all need!)

Sadly, I only did it for a month. I started early January, and it finished early February. Nothing to do with me (I hope), just that they only really needed me to fill in the gap between Mummy leaving for work and Daddy getting back from work. As a lot of people have experienced during this hard time, the Mummy no longer was working and therefore there was no need for me.

However, my time there did add to my Spanish experience, and my experience working with children. I was with them for a couple of hours twice a week, and attempted to teach them some English.

This is my observation for Spanish parents (I can’t say parents in general because I only have experience with Spanish parents trying to get their children to speak English)- they expect a LOT from their children. Most parents want their children to reach their potential, obviously, mine did too. However, when it comes to languages, it takes a very specific attitude to actually want to learn it. Unless you have been raised in a multti-lingual household and it’s second nature to the point where you don’t really realise that you’re speaking different languages, it’s going to be hard for you to learn another language.

Coming from the UK, where there is such a poor attitude to learning other languages (although, not quite as bad as the Spanish attitude, as I have come to realise), you have to really push to get yourself into the position where you can speak properly. I’ve loved Spanish since I started it in my first year of senior school, but I barely learnt anything until year 10, where I had taken the iniative and started listening to what my mum calls “eurotrash”- basically foreign music, a lot of which was Spanish. Then I started college and I actually started to learn how to conjugate verbs, and within the next two years I’d progressed to watching Spanish telenovelas and actually understanding them (well, most of the time). Although my mum doesn’t always approve of my music taste, I can definitely say that it helped me to learn Spanish and to speak with a proper Spanish accent.

Anyway, back to the Spanish parents. These children were being raised in a purely Spanish household, and the only English they were hearing was that taught in the school, or from learning Cd’s. When they brought in someone like me who speaks English fluently and with a (British) English accent, the children couldn’t really understand. They didn’t want to try to repeat the words to gain the proper pronunciation.

Perhaps it is simply that I am a poor teacher (which could well be, I’ve had no training for it). But I know how hard it was for me to learn Spanish and I WANTED to learn it. Most of these children just want to play; they don’t want to come home from school and have to do yet more classes.

I love children (in theory), although seeing as children are quite simply miniature adults, there are going to be some that are going to be difficult to handle. It’s also very hard to handle children that are in no way related to you- I am very good with my two brothers, and helped with the youngest a lot as he was growing up, but when it’s blood I think it’s a lot easier be involved. If I did something wrong my mum would tell me off and that would be it. I wouldn’t be fired or, worse, arrested or sued. In Barcelona it took a lot of my patience to not snap at the children, I’m not quite sure how I survived that....xD

Anyway, the two that I babysat for here were characters. A 9 year old boy and a 7 year old girl, they behaved well (most of the time). When they weren’t trying to wrestle each other, the girl wasn't shoving things down her trousers and the boy wasn't avoiding doing his homework (which was every single time). They both loved Spongebob, which was a great topic of conversation and was one way I incorporated English into the conversation without them really realising it- draw pictures of the characters and then write down the English names, and explain what the different parts of Spongebob’s world were called in English. To be honest, I’m not quite sure who enjoyed that part more, me or them. They had some of the best Spongebob things- even a Spongebob cheese-toastie maker.

I’m 20 years old and I’m impressed by those things.....I’m a bit worried.

Anyway, even though it came to a pretty abrupt end, I’m glad I had the experience. It’s experiences like those that make me realise what I really do (or don’t) want to do when I’m older. I’m not sure nannying is quite my thing. Going to Barcelona was without doubt one of the most challenging things I’ve ever done, but in turn it was one of the most rewarding- it was the longest I’d ever been out of England for at that time, the longest I’d gone without seeing my family, and the first time I’d ever lived abroad. All at 19. Working with these two children here in Toledo just cemented the fact to me that I couldn’t do that as a full-time job. I’m not totally rejecting the idea of teaching a class of young children, because I think there are a lot less pressures on you (that might sound paradoxical, as there are many more children and many more parents, but at the end of the day the parents have a lot less control over what you do, or what they want you to).

I’m sure this seems very unorganised, and that would be because it is.....

xD

A show of bravery or the ultimate cowardice?- The Spanish Bullfight

I haven’t posted for a while. I am sorry.

This blog post could be quite.....controversial. I know there are a lot of people out there who are very against bullfighting, and I understand all the reasons why. It is not a humane sport, by any means.

However, whenever we had to do the obligatory debate about bullfighting in whatever Spanish class I was in at the time, I could see both sides of the argument.

Bullfighting has been, and still is in some parts of the country, a big part of Spanish culture. Whether for the fights themselves, or purely for the stadiums, the pictures of bulls everywhere, the cry of “ole!”

I went to my first (and most probably my last) bullfight ever on Saturday. When my flatmate told me that there was a bullfight coming to Toledo, to be honest it didn’t cross my mind that I wouldn’t go. When else am I going to be able to experience something so Spanish, apart from whilst I am here? Love it or loathe it, it embodies for many people Spanish culture (along, of course, with flamenco dancing, siestas and tapas). Good or bad, this was going to an experience.

I write my next sentence tentatively. I can’t say that I enjoyed it per se, but I must admit that I felt a huge sense of excitement, adrenaline, being swept up with the crowd watching these magnificent beasts charge around the bullring until their untimely death. And they were magnificent beasts. You could see their muscles moving underneath their shiny coats as they ran.

Some were more angry than others, some more strong. Generally it went from the first bull being the weakest until the last (in this case the sixth bull) which was the strongest, the most angry, the most likely to give a good show. And that last bull.....well, that last “fight” blew me away.

I don’t think you can really call it bull “fighting”. True, bulls and man were not born equal; bulls are an awful lot stronger than a man and have a much higher capacity of being able to kill (without having to use weapons such as knives or guns). However, this aside, when the bulls get into the ring, of course they are pretty quickly stabbed in the back with a lance by a man (a picador) on a horse. Later on he is stabbed again. These lances are left inside the bull, so that gradually, the bull loses it’s strength.

So then, a fair fight? Absolutely not. Of course, they have to weaken the bulls to be able to perform the “dances” with the bulls, but this is supposedly a show of man’s power over the bull. Except, of course, the bull has been weakened so much that it doesn’t really have a chance. And that’s where the element of cowardice comes in.

Not to say that I would be able to stand in a bullring with a bull and not run away screaming. I’m not sure I could ever look a bull in the eyes knowing that he could disembowel me with one flick of his head. But then, of course, that is one of the many reasons why I would never be a torero.

The last fight, as I mentioned before, was the one that stuck with me. I knew the torero was crazy when he knelt in front of the gate from which the bulls entered. On his knees, he had the pink flag in his hands. As the bull entered, the torero used both arms to pull the cape around his body, making the toro follow it. Later on, after a scuffle, the torero ended up on the floor. After getting up and recovering, he knelt in front of the bull, and blew it a kiss. All for show of course, but I have to admit that in that moment, I understood why people would want to attend bullfights.

It’s something that I am never, ever going to forget. I wish that the bulls didn’t have to die, that there was some way they could do this whole thing without killing....but of course, that is the whole point of these things. It’s like the Romans who used to attend gladiator fights; partly for the show of skill, and partly the excitement of knowing that someone at least was going to die that day, in front of their eyes.

I am in no way glorifying what I saw that day. I am glad I went, if it only means that I can better form my opinion about it. That I’m happy that six bulls had to die that for me to do so? Absolutely not. But before this I had never understood why bloodlust was so entrenched in human nature; now I have a much better understanding.

(I'm sorry for the poor writing, I only slept for one hour last night :()