¡Alegría!

¡Alegría!

Cheer! 

I have survived buses, planes and trains, even the tube, to post a blog from the UK for the first time in 3 months. So:

MERRY CHRISTMAS 

HAPPY NEW YEAR 

Wishing all you loyal readers some Christmas cheer and hoping the weather with you isn't as bad as here in South West England. 

¡Navidad!

¡Navidad!

Christmas! 

The holidays start tomorrow so it feels right to discuss all things Christmassy, in an organised manner of course, not like a wiggly tinsel thread of thoughts... 

*What I said English people do for Xmas* 

-Pigs in Blankets, the kids think that we name this that is quite amazing 

-Open all our presents on Xmas day  

-We have Boxing day, which doesn't exist in Spain 

-Have snow, as implied by my snowflake/man flashcard, dreaming of a white Christmas... 

-Crackers, NOT SWEETS, for the last time they are not sweets or pinatas. 

-Burn our Christmas pudding after drowning it in alcohol 

-Eat mince pies, for which there is no translation or Spanish foodstuffs similar

*What Spanish People do* 

-Have their main dinner on Christmas eve, which is called Noche Buena 

-Have giant Nativity scenes, called a Belén which translates as Nativity but also as Bethlehem; most Nativities do depict the entire town complete with it's population and animals. Both my schools have room spanning examples. 

-Open very few, if any presents on Christmas day because...

-They celebrate los Reyes Magos (Melchior, Casper and Balthazar) on the 6th January; the 3 Wise Men bring them presents on the night of the 5th (they leave out water for the Camels and cookies & milk for the Reyes). There are parades on the 5th when the 'Kings' arrive, this year in Gijón they arrived by boat and in 2014 possibly by helicopter... 

-They eat Turrón a slab of sweetness varying in texture from marzipan to nougat and in every flavour imaginable. They also eat roscón de Reyes, a circular cake topped with glace fruit, in which is hidden a figure of baby Jesus and a bean; having Jesus in your slice is good luck for the new year but the bean means you have to pay for the cake. 

-At midnight of the 31st December, the 12 bells in Madrid are shown and as each one tolls every second, Spaniards eat 1 grape per second for each month for the year for luck. My teachers said you have to be careful as you can choke...  

*What I've done for Xmas* 

-Wrapped suitably Spanish presents to take home

-Eaten my advent chocolates everyday 

-Listened to Primary school children recite their English carols (with actions) 

-Toured the city Xmas lights 

-Made my first solo batch of mince pies (thank the Lord for Lidl selling mincemeat), which the teachers loved

2 tubs of butter in that pastry, but its Asturian, so it's ok.

 

Vistas.

Vistas.

Views.

Last weekend my flatmate kindly drove us to Cabo Peñas, a 'cape' with steep cliffs reaching into the sea, an old faro (lighthouse) and wonderful views of the coastline and the surrounding campo. It also involved several precarious balances from us both to obtain photos on rocks. 

Mist over the Asturian coastline.

 

On our return journey, this being Spain, we had to stop in the middle of the road while some village residents, including a fully white-robed priest, carried a Saint over the road from the Church and back. While firework bangs were erupting, naturally.  

Puente.

Puente.

Bridge (or long weekend). 

Last weekend was 'puente', a 4 day weekend from Friday to Monday. After all the energy (and euros) thrown at my Barca birthday trip, I stayed local for the fiesta. 

I finally had a proper daylight peep at Oviedo (Capital of the region) with the help of assistant who lives there. I met Woody Allen, Jesus and the biggest Nativity I've ever seen. Woody has his own statue there, including a quote in which he describes the city as 'una cuneta de hadas' a fairy-tale; his glasses have to be replaced every year or so as people touch then and they break. Some scenes from Vicky Christina Barcelona are filmed there, including those in the hotel. Meanwhile, Jesus is perched on Monte Naranco, overlooking the city. Along the steep route are 2 UNESCO certified churches. The Belén (nativity) is a serious business here. Serious, as in it's a girl's name. Serious, as in there are competitions. Serious, as in the one in Oviedo's Plaza Mayor has life size figures in a stable AND a 3D panoramic view of Bethlehem stretching across an estimated 9m with running water and sound effects. 

 

I took a trip to Ribadesella, 2 hours of winding roads and coastal views to a coastal pueblo stretched across an estuary. Along the promenade the town has a series of wonderful tile murals depicting its history, ranging from 'prehistoria' to 'modernidad'. I walked up the cliff to the viewing point next to an old chapel. There are caves with cave paintings and a museum here but he caves are close until Easter, so I will be returning. They also have a walking route along the coast where dinosaur footprints can be spotted. The river is the site of an annual Eatser regatta, the names of the winning teams are etched on a stone tablet on the riverside next to a sculpture of 2 men in a kayak; there were several rowers out and about on the day too. The beach of Atalaya, hidden away between cliffs was lovely, but the highlight in the casco viejo was the Iglesia de Santa María Magdalena. The church contains the most stunning murals I've seen in a while. 

 

When traveling to Ribadesella there was one coastal view that rendered me gaping, nose against the window. Lastres is another coastal pueblo, similar to Cudillero in that they're both build leading down a hill to a port. Only this was steeper (and there was less rain). I stopped off on the way back for 2 hours and trekked my way to the viewing point: 

 

After a day of rest on Sunday, I caught the 8:15am bus to Llanes, another seaside town. I'm only sorry I couldn't spend more time there as it was lovely. There were medieval castle remnants and a lovely old town, throughout which traditional loud speakers trilled Christmas songs (while wearing my sunglasses, this was a surreal experience). The Paseo de San Pedro is a strip of green along the top of a cliff that snakes round the edge of the town before entering a wide Dartmoor like plain to the mountains in the distance; it is also very beautiful. Llanes is home to Los Cubos de Memoria by the Brazilian artist and sculptor Agustín Ibarrola along the pier. They are giant cubes of rock, placed like breakwaters around the pier and painted with patterns and images, some of which are supposed to represent events in Llanes' history. 

 

A rather enjoyable penultimate weekend staycation.

  

Espumillón.

Espumillón.

Tinsel. 

This is the craziest word I've come across. It's so strange that some of the year 6s couldn't spell it. As the Spanish word for 'it is' is 'es' I spent the week thinking that tinsel was just pumillón, and that the teachers were just being obvious.

¡Luces!

¡Luces!

Lights! 

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, 

Plaza Mayor

 

Eeeeeverywhere you go, 

  

Take a look in the Five and Ten, 

 

Glistening once again, 

 

With candy canes and silver lanes aglow. 

 

Pastel.

Pastel.

Cake.  
I made a birthday cake. 
Then I set it on fire. 
My first attempt at baking here didn't go as planned, not when the baking paper caught fire and all I could to say to my flatmate was 'hay fuego en el horno' (there is fire in the oven), which one would after all expect from an oven... 
She helped me chop the burned bits off, while I scooped charred paper from my mixture. 
However, it turned out well (I covered the burnt top with chocolate) and my new heart shaped tin has been christened.

¡Cumpleaños!

¡Cumpleaños!

Birthday! 

I celebrated my 21st with my 1st visit to Barcelona! 
I am lucky enough to count the Catalan speaking Katherine as a friend caring enough to mother me for the weekend (she had to, at various points, hold my can of Fanta, do up my coat buttons, find me an advent calender, check if I was hungry/tired/cultured enough for one day). 
She also adeptly dealt with Barca's attempts to deny me such a birthday. First the hostel website said she'd booked for only 1, she emailed, they confirmed it was for 2. Then they said that dorm wasn't available, so we were put in a different one. Then they said they were being shut down by Barcelona's council and that we were being moved to a skate hostel. Luckily, said skate hostel was lovely, free internet and computers, organised activities and free nights out. They even had an international money wall and a special skateboard wall. Oh, and we were 10 minutes from this: 

Sagrada Familia (yes they're still building it)

I will attempt to summarise our many exploits with appropriately witty captions to hopefully humorous photos.  

 

Here I am outside the Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya in front of a waterfall with the city behind me; the 4 pillars in the background, in front of the fountain, represent the stripes on the Catalan Flag. I am wearing my rain poncho, a going away present from Katherine and Nada that inspired the name of this blog. 

 

Inside, we lay on the floor to gaze at the ceiling mural.  

 

Then we stood on top of a shopping centre and watched the sun set. 

After which we watched the magic fountain show, whose sound track is 'Barcelona' by Queen. 

 We rambled along La Rambla, where my paranoia that my bumbag, its contents and I would be separated by a pickpocket was, thankfully, not realised. 

 

We shared an icecream at 10 degrees and I shouted a panicked NO at the icecream man as he was about to scoop smurf flavour into our pot (we had asked for vanilla, coconut and chocolate), he looked highly unnerved. 

Then I posed with a giant lion at the foot of the Columbus statue, with my fanta can.

 

The next day we visited Encants market under a cool reflective roof where I tried on numerous clothes in the freezing cold with behind an old curtain pulled across a rail of clothes. I got my arms stuck in a dress. Embarrassing.   

 

But then I touched Matt Smith, which made everything better. 

I even had a Tardis painted on my face, even if I tore my paper one (turns out 'controlled ripping' isn't a thing...), at least mine didn't have the tabs sticking out when finished though. The Doctor Who convention was well worth it.

We wandered around the Cathedral (I stress outside as it was too expensive to go in and if I can't be a cheapskate on my birthday, when can I?) 

 

Then Katherine told me these slightly scary logs are a Catalan tradition. They hit it with a stick (I don't think this promotes good values, personally...) and at Christmas presents are put at the back end which is hidden under a sheet.  

 

She added that in Catalan nativities it's traditional to have a famous person going to the toilet in the corner...

 

In preparation for my birthday's approach, we went to a shot bar (500+ varities, crazy names, all 2 euro each). I had a teletubby, Cómeme el coño (google it, I dare you), beso and a boyscout, where they set the bar on fire and I had to toast a marshmallow and dip it in my shot. Katheirne had a snoopy, Sant Jordi (patron saint of Barca, but it was horrid, very strong), cocochoc and Lacasitos.

 

Then I sat in a glowing shell, just because I could. 

 

Before I blew out the candles on my wonderful cake from El Corte Ingles (the Spanish equivalent of John Lewis) which Katherine bought me and also provided the foc (fire) for, while looking like a 60's Big Bird. 

But alas, all good things come to an end! I departed and spent most of my birthday in transit via plane and bus before arriving home to a host of cards and a lovely unexpected gift from my flatmate. 

¡Gracias a todos para tus felicidades!

Huevo.

Huevo.

Egg. 

I recently went to Avilés, another city in Asturias; Gijón, Oviedo and Avilés form a kind of triangle whose sides measure 30 minutes by direct bus. 
Avilés, like much of Asturias, is known for its industry and the factories on its outskirts are visible from the city, but the sad fact is, it is treated as the ugly duckling (Oviedo  is the swan and I'll say Gijón is perhaps the peahen, impressive and big but not quite a peacock). My students warned me against it, they said it smelled, said it was boring and small.
I was pleasantly surprised! 
Ok, the factories are visible, the river can smell and the fumes can be headache inducing at times but it is on the whole a lovely place. 

It has one of the best and biggest casco viejos (old towns) I've ambled around, with tiled floors, column-supported covered walkways under the buildings and beautiful building frontages, a park with a pond and a lovely theatre and ayuntamiento (town hall). 

And, for reasons unknown, this statue of a seal. 

The great contrast to this take the form of the Centro Niemeyer, a futuristic structure by Brazilian architect Oscar Niemeyer placed just in front of the factories, over the river. It comprises of several parts: a rainbow bridge, a tower, a dome a long building made of glass and white brick and an auditorium which looks like half a boiled egg with provocative biro scrawl. I felt like I was in a space station, maybe while hallucinating. It is used as a kind of media centre for exhibitions, film screenings and education and Woody Allen (more on him later) has openly declared his support for it. I felt like a smug local upon seeing the current exhibition was one I'd already seen for free in Gijón.

 

 

This is an interesting article I read before visiting: 

http://www.theguardian.com/travel/2011/jul/01/aviles-asturias-northern-spain-niemeyer 

 Well, we all know what happens to the ugly duckling in the end don't we?

Perdón.

Perdón.

Sorry. 

I humbly apologize for my absence. I assure you that I have been busy doing blog worthy activities (and working, I mean those 12 hours aren't going to teach themselves are they?)during this interim.  

I should have at least used a sign... 

Película.

Película.

Film. 
It's Gijón's 51st International Film Festival this week; all very exciting! 

Tickets are only 3,50 euros each and a complete pass is 40 euros; compared to Leeds' £5 per ticket, this is the best excuse for square eyes I've had all year. I queued for 35 minutes to buy tickets last week in the cold and drizzle but it has all been very worthwhile. As an English speaker I'm particularly fortunate as the international (ie. not Spanish) films shown here are automatically subtitled in English on the screen, while Spanish subtitles are added underneath the pantalla (screen) on small strip screen. The festival has also organised many introductions and post-peli Q&A sessions with directors and lead actors. 
My week has been defined by: 
Belle Epoque: Penelope Cruz is blacked up for a fiesta, one man sleeps with 3 sisters before marrying the youngest, wrapped up in highly coveted period dress. The female editor, Carmen Frías, of this film won the Women in Cinema Award for her contribution to Spanish cinema, and so introduced it.  
Baby Blues: A Polish offering about the life of a group of teens, centering around a young single mother in Warsaw. Crazy, vibrant, amazing wardrobe and a very sad ending with moral message about our consumer and consciousness society.  
An Oversimplification of Her Beauty: I got a bit lost in this American film, so no wonder some 10 people walked out before it finished; man makes a film about being in love with a girl friend and then when he shows her the film she still rejects him. Filmed in real time and including lovely animation, 2 films are alternatively shown, AOOHB and How Would You Feel?, making a bit hard to follow. Jay Z is also mentioned on the credits...  
Pelo Malo: Set in Venezuela, Junior a nine year old has pelo malo, incessantly curly hair, whose dream is to have straight hair 'like a singer' for his school photo. His obsession with taming his hair makes his mother attempt to straighten him out, considering it unhealthy, and against gender norms, for him to be doing so. Heartbreaking final scene where he shaves his head. It was the winner of the Concha de Oro of the San Sebastián (big deal). 
Pluto: South Korean film where lots of smart teenagers kill each other and drink rabbit blood. 
A Horse on the Balcony: Austrian film about a boy with Asperger's Syndrome who bonds with a horse that appears on the balcony opposite his flat. Gambling, heart-attacks and bad guys, ending with a happy Christmas scene. 
Get The Picture: A documentary focusing on John G Morris, a photo editor for Life magazine and The New York Times, who at 96 years old presented the film himself. Including  famous images, responses and quotes from renowned war photographers such as Robert Cappa, the documentary presented a brilliant view of warfare and its documentation across the years, as well as life philosophies from those who have lived through it.  

Only salted popcorn though, bit disappointed.

Naranja.

Naranja.

Orange. 

My flatmate recently received a surplus of oranges from work (she's an accountant??) and told me to have some. Don't tell her I've been using them in school for my English games week as the 'hot potato' (I don't own a ball or a suitable potato) and then placing them back so she can juice them. 

Nuestro secreto...

Ver.

Ver.

To see. 

I saw a kingfisher last weekend at the park! I'm telling so I remember myself and for the record. I may not get to see another; it was so quick I couldn't take a photo.

Amagüestu.

Amagüestu.

Ok, there is no real translation for this Asturian word (sorry), but it is an autumnal fiesta. 

A similar festival is celebrated in Catalunya, Cantabri and Galicia. It is, from what I can gather, a kind of chestnut harvest celebration. Castañas (chesnuts) are roasted and eaten along with sidra dulce, sweet cider which is basically strong apple juice. Most schools hold a small fiesta in celebration and some include traditional dancing as well. The primary school hired a gaita (bagpipe) player, as its the traditional Celtic/Asturian instrument and the children had made black paper hats in the traditional shape. There was also a train shaped oven for roasting the chestnuts. 

 

We all huddled under the roof of the sheltered court before the Asturian weather took hold (i.e. it bucketed down). I have discovered I don't like chestnuts, roasted or otherwise, their only pleasant aspect was their warmth from the cone made out of a Lidl flyer. 

Yesterday, I stumbled upon some traditional dancing and music in the plaza outside the old palace, next to the Plaza Mayor. 

Robar.

Robar.

To steal. 

The primary school is part of the Comenius Project, where schools in various European countries exchange culture, forge links as they visit and send things to each other. I'm playing a starring role in the Christmas video where the year 6s are prompted to say merry Christmas and a happy new  year, so the other schools can hear it in Spanish. 

There is a small stand by the staff room with flags and various colourful paper decorations, upon which are some small gifts from the other school's rep's recent visit. There was a bottle of Cypriot liqueur, some rose flavoured gummy bears and a bar of striped chocolate. One of the teachers told me that the chocolate bar had been stolen. Fair enough, it's a school, children like chocolate. However, when mentioning the incident to another teacher she replied "we don't know if it was the nuns or one of the teachers...".

Those 2 naughty nuns that (apparently, I've never seen them) live on the top floor of the school behind a door guarded by many hefty ceramic plant pots; who'd have thought it?

¡Precioso!

¡Precioso!

(exceedingly)Beautiful. 

Last weekend I visited Cudillero, a small Asturian fishing village which is so precioso it's on the front of my guidebook. 

Official vs Amateur  photo

Despite a return bus ticket costing 10 euros and Sunday morning rain, it was most definitely vale la pena (worth it). The village of orange tile roofed houses is built in a bowl surrounded by green mountains, and to make it confusing the overlapping narrow streets appear to follow a circular spiral. I have no idea how anyone gets their post delivered here. Even the white lines supposedly leading to viewing points often cut off under a house or a wall. I found many old and abandoned houses, just left to cave in and several young and feral cats slinking around the narrow alleys. To make it even more picturesque, vintage cars were passing by en-route to a local rally.

This isn't tumblr but to better explain the allure of this magical maze I will bombard you with images. 

 

 

 

iBasta!

iBasta!

Enough! 

It was bad enough this weekend that I peeled 2 fingers, as well as my potatoes, and then cut a finger last night while chopping carrots, after being told by a lady at the Correos that my envelopes were too small after I´d been sending them for 2 months. No rest for the wicked. Yesterday, just before my class began, a woman I had never met before introduced herself as the head of the languages dept. She proceeded to tell me, in a friendly way, that I needed to cover-up more when working with younger secondary school pupils as I'm "exotic" enough being foreign, and they may "fantasize" about me. Secondly, that it is not acceptable to sit in the (massive) corridor when working with a group of 3 students right outside the classroom on an assigned actvity, as people's bags are kept there.  

1) I do not dress like a vertical fitness practitioner, my skirts are knee length minimum, I usually wear a big scarf and my primary school has no complaints. I do not like to be made to feel like an exotic 'native' to be gawped at; just because I do not wear skinny jeans and jumpers like the majority of the Spanish population here does not mean I dress inappropriately. I do not deserve to be made to feel self-conscious or to change my image. Some may call it superficial (or stubborn), but my image is mine and it's important to me, I'm not changing it. 

2) What does she think is going to happen? One of the kids is going to walk up and steal a bag while we're practising the first and zero conditions by an open classroom? 

Thanks for the belated welcome.   

Desconcertante.

Desconcertante.

Unnerving. 

There are many things that have unnerved me since I arrived. I will enlighten you. 

- An unknown neighbor, while in the lift, asked me when my bathroom was being decorated (???), a  few days later the painter arrives and my housemates inform me. 

-A group of year 7s insist on clapping after my powerpoints; well mannered awkwardness ensues.  

-Being English is an acceptable excuse for being terrible at Spanish.

- Every morning the primary school children cross themselves before reciting, by heart, The Lord's Prayer (in English as well!)

-Good dubbing, The Simpsons are fluent in Spanish, who knew? 

-Children can be cute. It's that uniform-colour-coordinated-bow-in-hair-look the girls have going on, I think...  

-The (light) speed at which my change and receipt  is thrust into my palm while attempting to pack, walk away and keep it together at the supermarket.

-The never-ending echo of 'hello' that follows me throughout the Primary school corridors   

-How quiet I've become without being able to babble on (and on) in English. 

-Sophia the terrier that resides in my favorite charity shop who hates me (and everyone else apparently) and sounds like she wants to bite my lower leg off.

-The amount I'm spending on postage

ONCE.

ONCE.

National Organisation of Spanish Blind People (eleven when not an acronym). 

Today I bought my first ONCE ticket. I have been harbouring a secret desire to do for the past month, increased by the wonderful adverts for their up and coming 75th birthday. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OGkpTkFPxCs  

ONCE is a Spanish charity for the blind founded in 1938 (also founding the ONCE Foundation in 1988 to aid the inclusion of those with disabilities other than blindness). They have a highly visible presence here in Spain, not least because of their charity lottery, for which they have daily and weekly draws. Around nearly every corner here in Gijón you'll find an ONCE employee (all those employed by the charity are blind or are seriously visually impaired) or a ONCE kiosk selling 'cupones' (tickets).  

The ONCE kiosk next to my school.

The ticket I have bought is for their 75th birthday draw on Monday, which includes 1 prize of 11 million euros and 11 of 1 million euros; like the daily draws the lowest prize is the price of the ticket itself

6 euros in this case, 1.50 euros normally). You win by matching as many numbers as possible in the order they appear on your ticket, you win more if you also have the correct series number. All for a great cause!

 

¡Buena suerte a todos!