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!

   

Karma.

Karma.

Karma. (Yes I know, it's an obvious cognate) 

Decides to skip 'obligatory' meeting to do pre-arranged private classes. 

Nearly gets decapitated by a football at break-time. 

¡Chiste!

¡Chiste!

Joke! 

What happens when an alien, an ancient Egyptian, Harriet Potter and a clown walk into a bar? 

Halloween!!! 

This year I put more thought and effort into my costume than ever before. Armed with 36m of tin foil, eyeliner, 3 face paint crayons and a skype collaboration with Katherine, I became an alien. For anyone who wishes to try this, be careful and don't bother with sellotape (useless, my legs kept falling off) and make sure you can remove the face paint easily (mine took a lot of scrubbing). 

Not too many other people were dressed up and it was quite quiet on Halloween, but more lively the next day (a holiday in Spain) as on the 1st November is Día de los Santos. This is the Spanish version of perhaps the more widely recognized Día de los Muertos in Mexico; the difference between the 2 is obvious. Spain's is more of a sombre remembrance of the dead, visits to grave yards are made with flowers and families are 
together, while in Mexico it is generally a celebration of the lives of the dead and  while also family centred it 
is more celebratory in tone. Both eat sweet treats; here all bakeries have been selling Huesos de Santo, small marzipan textured sweets in the shape of bones, while Mexicans eat sugar skulls (the very recognizable decorated skull symbols that now adorn many a t-shirt). 

The weather did it's best to be sombre and we got soaked walking back on the second night (dressed as Frida Kahlo, my only concern was that my mono-brow did not run down my face), Having crawled into bed at 4:30am and 6am (after putting the washing machine on for my wet clothes) for the past 2 nights only to wake up at 3pm and 5pm, I am now ready to return to the the daylight hours of the living.

Calabaza.

Calabaza.

Pumpkin. 

My word of the week (and everyone else's).

I'm beginning to understand how you're suppose to accumulate vocab while on year abroad. After having spent 12 hours of teaching Halloween over the past 2 weeks I've cottoned on to a few words. I'm now fully equipped to dress up as/identify a fantasma, bruja, hombre-lobo, la muerte, gato negro or vampiro.

I also have learned more about its origins than I ever knew previously (ie. nil); it originates from the Celtic festival of Samhain, which later merged into All Hallows' Eve before All Hallows' Day or All Saints' Day. This is particularly interesting for Asturias, which is rooted in Celtic heritage yet does not officially celebrate Halloween. I was therefore particularly dismayed when, upon asking if anyone knew where it came from, one girl replied with the USA.  

Despite carving 2 of my own, I had a peep in the Jardín Botánico for its 'Calabazas y Calaveras' (pumpkins and skulls) exhibition. Perfect autumnal weather with bright sunshine and crisp air and every pumpkin variety that ever graced the Earth. 

They also hold a pumpkin competition (the biggest looked like they were on steroids and the 'most original' looked like they needed a bit of help). I also saw strawberry plants bearing fruit despite the season. 

It has been a week for good pumpkin related deeds also. An old couple asked me if I could take photos with a smart phone (I don't own one...) and gave me their's which I restored to photo instead of video setting, to both their and my amazement, so they could photograph the pumpkins hanging on the wall. While walking back from school with my carved pumpkin a young couple caught up with me to ask where I got it from; I later saw them walking away with 2.  

By the time the 31st arrived I was pretty Halloween-ed out to be honest.