Abrigo.

Abrigo.

Coat. 

I was given one this week! 

My favorite mum (aside from my own I hasten to add) is preoccupied with my body temperature, especially since I have a cold, and this week after commenting (again) on my actual coat, she handed me one of her's saying she didn't have room for it in her wardrobe. It's a cream coloured number with slight padding a a matching belt. It is very similar to the standard Spanish coat that the majority of the teachers wear; their's are puffed/padded in horizontal ribs and have a clasp belt. Intricacies aside, it is warm. 

She is my favorite mum for other non-warmth related reasons: 

-She picks me up form the bus stop and drops me off at the next lesson

-She gave me first pick from a box of chocolate her husband brought back  after working in Sweden 

-She gave me a chunk of turron at Christmas

-Last week she gave me biscuits made by her mum  

-On the 5 minute return drive this week we discussed the feminist issue of the  double shift and lack of wage equality 

My favorite private lesson, however, is just before my language exchange, purely because I'm allowed to hold their guinea pigs (Spike, Dina and baby Chispe, which is like Chip in Spanish). 

Resfriado.

Resfriado.

Cold. 

Estoy enferma y soy extranjera. 

I am ill and I am foreign. 

Where are the 15 cents paracetamol in the supermarkets????!!!

Hora.

Hora.

Hour. 

I spent an hour talking in understandable Spanish with my exchange partner. 

VICTORY DANCE!

It also transpires this will be more of teacher-pupil session. She doesn't actually speak any English...

Embarazoso.

Embarazoso.

Awkward. 

When you and the teacher are wearing almost matching long, wrapped, yellow knitted scarves. 

Mine was bigger.

When the tobacconist (and stamp seller) can't understand your pronunciation of Gibraltar, says so to his friend next to you, then guesses 'English?' and loudly teaches you how to say it the Spanish way.

HEEEEEE-BRALT-TAAAA. 

When you drop your berliner glace (glazed doughnut) on the floor, squeak at this loss and have to sweep the icing up, disrupting your unimpressed flatmate's view of the TV. 

¡Nutria!

¡Nutria!

Otter!

During a wander around the park, I noticed that none of the ducks were venturing into the water, the banks of the lake looked like a mass, late, pato siesta. I met a man on my circuit round the lake, I was watching a duck who couldn't get out of the cage that's open to the water not the bank where the poor thing wanted to go (it did get out eventually), who told me that his friends were looking at 'una nutria'. Having no idea what he was talking about I circled round and stood by them. The 2 guys in their 50s lent me their binoculars and one even translated otter into English for me. We followed it around the lake as it frolicked. They told me that otters can eat ducks, and every-time the otter got too close to the bank a herd of ducks would run off to the path, some were even sleeping in the trees and on posts, just in case. After making it all the way back round, the otter came up to the bank and popped its head up at us a good 4 or 5 times before swimming off into the now darkened lake. 

 

They invited me to come for coffee with them, I did admit to not having any money on my person, where Luis and José Luis (cute buddy names!) talked about their travels in France, Italy (JL said about seeing Sammy Davis there) and Southern Spain while I drank Colocao and ate the free biscuits.It was a lovely evening and I did something I would, sadly, never do in the UK; despite not speaking the language anywhere near fluently I feel safe enough with strangers here. 

It is true what is said of Spaniards, they're a warm and welcoming bunch. 

Primero.

Primero.

First. 

The past 2 weeks has been full of first-times! 

I got something dry cleaned. My vintage leather coat is now not such a bargain...  

I ate at Tierrastur. It's a restaurant that specializes in Asturian food. We had the 45 e meat platter, which basically equated to 5 gammon steaks, 4 beef steaks, 3 giant pork ribs, more pork, black pudding, 2 types of chorizo with half a pepper on the top, which, like a lone vegetarian in a butchers, was rather out of place. Suffice to say not even 5 hungover girls could finish it. 

I found the local cemetery.

I made worksheets, not even worksheet but worksheetS, for my private classes. Despite listening to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory chapter 1 three times in 2 days, it's the most productive I've ever been!  

I've introduced a paper recycling system into the flat (ie. behind the bin, under the sink there's an old bran flake box waiting), broke the news to my flatmate today. 

I've drooled over the first strawberries of the year (to be bought by the caja, box). 

I saw cormorants in the park. 

I discovered XXL Cornettos exist.

I got the shot I've waited months for: 

Aborto.

Aborto.

Abortion. 

This may be an issue sensitive to some, but it's an important issue that I support. During the past month or so there has been growing controversy over a potential (and probable) abortion law reform. 

The current law made in 2010 meant "women were able to end a pregnancy for any reason whatsoever up to 14 weeks – including merely because 'the time was not right' to become a mother or to have more children – or up to 22 weeks in the event of rape, disability or deformity of the foetus or up until the last day of gestation where the mother's or child's health was in danger, the only two scenarios in which a termination will be possible are those of rape or threat to the mother's or baby's life."  

(From: http://www.thinkspain.com/news-spain/23715/france-condemns-spains-abortion-law-reform)

The new reforms, under President Mariano Rajoy and his Partido Popular government, would mean a drastic regression: 

-If you are raped you can only have an abortion in the first 12 weeks 
-If the pregnancy could harm you or your child (physiologically or physically) you can only have an abortion up to 22 weeks 
-If your child would be severely handicapped (maybe even needing 24 hour care) or would not live to adulthood, you will be refused an abortion.  

The current limit in the UK is 24 weeks for any of the above situations, including personal circumstances.  

I asked my flatmate about this reform and she told me that it is, to an extent, politically motivated and that most of the population don't support it. 

I have signed a petition (here is the link if you would like to also: http://www.change.org/es/peticiones/pide-al-ministro-de-justicia-que-no-reforme-la-ley-del-aborto) but more than anything I would like people to be AWARE that this is happening. I have a sinking feeling I would not be aware of such a drastic change in an neighboring EU country if I wasn't hearing about it here, first hand. This is pretty awful on the part of the media (and my own unawareness), especially given the current boost to feminism discussion in the past year. 

I hope this has been food for thought.

Intercambio.

Intercambio.

Exchange.

I've finally manged to get my mitts on a language exchange partner!! Let us celebrate with my recording of ducklings!

Reyes.

Reyes.

Kings. 

They arrived!! Melchor, Gaspar and Baltasar personally arrived in Gijón by helicopter on the beach to greet everyone with their flag waving entourage. It was pretty exciting, especially when the tiny children started exclaiming 'MELCHORMELCHORMELCHOR!!!' at this guy, draped in an ermine coat, long white beard and topped off with a crown. I have to admit it was all very convincing and that Spain most definitely puts the effort in.

Santa doesn't have an entourage this well garbed does he now...

I didn't visit the Kings at the ayuntamiento (town hall), but I was pretty certain of not receiving anything from them. I did however see the evening parade. A 25 minute spectacular that snaked through the streets of Gijón, where everyone threw glitter confetti and streamers everywhere, people leaned out of their flat windows and lined the streets. There was a police escort at the start and a fire engine at the end. In between there were at least 3 marching bands, including one of bagpipes, a small herd of cows, sheep, and goats, a float for each King pulled by a giant red tractor, a train filled with fake presents, teenagers in Tudor dress on roller-skates, roman soldiers, people in fezzes,  Egyptians and a nativity scene.  

I don't know if they're meant to be jellyfish or minarets... Gaspar's too busy being fabulous to care.

That is why Spain should organise all street fiestas. 

Huella.

Huella.

Footprint. 

There were many things I didn't wish to think about after being awake for about 23 hours, at Stansted Airport for 8 and in transit for 5. My carbon footprint was certainly one. 

(With added loops)