Parque.

Park.

Park. 

I'd very much like to share the glorious spring transformation of Parque Isabel La Católica. 

Asturias is looking particularly beautiful and green at the moment. 

Good year for daisies...

Visita.

Visita.

Visit. 

Easter holidays (an entire week, the first full holiday since January) were not merely a respite for me; they were a break for my parents and my (long-suffering-on-my-part) friend Katherine. They both experienced, what Katherine has now deemed the initiation to enter Asturias, an overnight airport stay. I won't bore you with our exact itinerary, instead I will mention some of the bizarre highlights.  

Easter bunnies.

2 dog owners coming to pushes (luckily not blows) on the beach, while one's giant old English sheepdog threaded through the 2 of them following an smaller dog. 

During the first procession, one Nazareno went to light another's candle with his own and this guy in normal clothes who lighting other candles comes over, in a silent procession, and shouts 'ESO NO. NADIE SE MUEVA DE LA FILA' (don't do that, no one moves from the line). 

A Dad decided to hide behind a bin round the corner, while the rest of his family came round the corner and jumped out at them, to their non-surprise.  

Mum translating 'el juicio final' as the final juice (it means judgement).

In Avilés' Easter market, the man on the Turkish food stall kept giving us free samples and after hearing me say 'very', appeared with a glace 'cherry?' for us to try (and then a strawberry). My purchase was equally born out of guilt as my love for baklava. 

Dad exclaiming about the 'lenticular cloud!' in my photo album, rather than the view.

In the 'Toca Toca zone' (touch touch zone) at the aquarium, I went to touch a plaice which zoomed off, making me jump and yell while all the kids at the rock pool stared at me. The one Dad touch remained motionless.... 

The waiter whisked Katherine's fabada away before she finished or could stop him.  

Ringing the hotel so many times that Sonia and María the receptionists knew which room we wanted before we asked.

The insane amount of beckoning done by the Nazarenos to each other.

Attending my first mass to find the old gentleman next to me gently snoring.   

Attempting to comment on the amount of incense inhaled, but actually saying 'insect stick, no, incest stick'.

Watching our first Sporting (Gijón's football team) game, luckily in the south stand after the woman selling the tickets said it would be quieter than with 'Las Ultras' in the north stand, then finding out that 'Las Ultras' are in fact an historic group who don't sit down during the match, clearly rehearse flag waving in unison and group chanting and unveil 2 massive red and white stripes down their section at the start of the match. 

Waving at a random Spanish couple outside the hotel thinking it was my parents.  

The not-bothered face (or rather contortion, it was rather exaggerated) a moped rider pulled when we hesitated a shade too long at the zebra crossing as she drove on through.

Nabbing the free flavoured sweets from the reception desk and being caught by the receptionist, much to the mortification of my parents, who chuckled at me.

Getting up at 4:30am on Monday to take Katherine to the airport and going to work an hour early afterwards. That was hilarious...

Pascua.

Pascua.

Easter. 

You may, or may not, have heard of the famous Semana Santa (Easter week) processions  in Southern Spain, particularly Seville.  Suffice to say when Spain does fiesta, it spares no expense. 

Churches have their own Hermandads (Brotherhoods of priests and monks). During Easter week in Sevilla, these groups of Nazarenos (the name for the garbed individuals) walk through the streets carrying large wooden floats, dressed in traditional garb bearing the emblem and colour of their Hernamdad. The floats are tremendously heavy, and bear carved statues of Biblical characters in order to depict the events surrounding Jesus' Crucifixion. They are carried by several individuals; some floats have handles to support them but others are carried by head,under the float itself. They practice carrying the float using wooden planks, usually at night to the surprise of many who stumble upon them. A lot of the floats are hundreds of years old, basically relics, so if it rains, the procession is a no-go. Some processions are accompanied by marching bands,some are silent, but all are enveloped by clouds of incense. They carry on through the night into the early morning, and often seating is laid out (but not free) for the occasion. I haven't experienced Semana Santa in Sevilla but knowing people who recently have, it sounds crazy. To quote: 'the processions got old really quickly'. Half the streets were blocked off with crowds, and with about 10 processions per day making their way to the cathedral, it was pretty chaotic. Some older, and clearly devout, women even blocked them from crossing the procession even when it was stopped. 

Up in the North, León is probably the only city can come close to the grandeur of Sevilla; but as I've discovered here in Asturias many smaller towns have their own processions. Gijón had a procession every day from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, bar one day, but one of my teachers told me today that they've only been doing the processions for about five years. Still, it was an impressive sight! 

 

And don't say they look like that ridiculous American Racist group, please....

Resumen.

Resumen.

Summary. 

There's been a lot of chat (and type) recently about years abroad; I've read 2 reflection style blog posts from others. I'm guessing this stems from our university assignment ( a 'web blog summary', what ever that actually means, which was apparently kept deliberately vague to inspire our creativity )to evaluate our year thus far. 

I still don't know if I would have done a year abroad if it wasn't a compulsory part of my degree, but I do doubt it. I also don't think that everyone should do one or that it's a great opportunity for everyone. 

It's hard to leave behind friends, family, the security of university life, the support of the university and its facilities and, in many cases, your native language. I'm missing seeing friends I've lived with for 2 years graduate, spending time with my family who aren't getting any younger, and as a joint honours student, I'm missing everything related to the other half my degree. At times it has been isolating, incredibly tiring (which, for my hypochondriac self, has been stressful and even more tiring), expensive and frustrating. I'll keep my examples brief, so's not to tire you. 

-Splitting time between 2 completely different schools and levels of teaching, where one school doesn't make any initial effort to inform you of events you could be involved in and whose teachers don't talk to you in the staff-room (gave up on that, I live in the computer room now, cosier) and who gave me a patronising response to my compulsory university report with a 2/5 for Spanish (the primary school gave me a 4) when no one even spoke to me, after which I was told to speak in English to everyone so they could practise.

-The pressure of doing, visiting and seeing it all in one year. Especially when all you see via social media is everyone else having an amazing, if not generally better time than you. This is NOT true, everyone looks good on facebook, even I do, but that's not to say it doesn't affect you. 

-Having group of English speaking auxiliares, which can be supportive and useful, however can become cliquey, leading to isolation.

-The expectation (from yourself and your university) to become fluent or fairly close in 8 months. It more than likely won't happen. If anything, I feel I have regressed, without having to speak and engage with the language for several hours per week and study/use detailed grammar points, with a tutor on hand to force me/support me.

-The frustration of foreign bureaucracy and university paperwork. You know, like that time the Spanish department only emailed half the students about the application for an extended essay (step down from a dissertation, ideal for joint honours students) in final year. Four of my friends abroad also didn't receive it. How hard is it to link an email with the folder containing 3rd year email addresses in?? Still no apology for a mistake they must have by now realised they've made.

You get out what you put in, it's true.I know I could have put more effort in this year, but that's easy to say with hindsight. I'm working for the same if not slightly more, hours than I would normally be in university, then preparing for my classes outside of that time, as well as generally living and navigating life in a foreign country. 

Having said all that, I would do again. I've learnt far more about Spanish culture than I've ever been taught, had a paid-for opportunity and time to travel, gained valuable work experience and met some lovely people. I feel more independent, even more headstrong and I value my friends more than ever now they're not as close.

Even if I do sound a little bitter sometimes...

Más.

Más.

More. 

An update about the name situation; this was an Easter gift from Sergio (a year 4).  

 

An update re the orchid: I have been entrusted with watering duties while my flatmate is away for Easter. I really hope the flowers don't decide to fall off or something...

Pan.

Pan.

Bread. 

That moment where you buy a 60 cent stick of bread with a 50 euro note and no one bats an eyelid. 

 

Admittedly, it would have been a more fantastically diva-ish moment if I hadn't sheepishly apologised for my lack of change to the unbothered cashier.

Tiza.

Tiza.

Chalk. 

So, a boy pretended to snort ground chalk off a text book today after gatecrashing the second group's turn to speak with me while everyone laughed, and the only girl in the group and I exchanged lamented looks and discussed our Easter plans. 

Substitution lessons are definitely only fun for students.

¡Comida!

¡Comida!

Food! 

Last week I received my first visitor!

Obligatory Gijón sign photo with Richard

Despite me still working, we fitted a lot in: Oviedo, Avilés, Gijón's aquarium, coastal walk and shopping. 

But mainly we ate our way round Asturias like the very hungry caterpillar....

One the first day we had empanada and pimientos de padrón. Empanda is pastry filled usually with meat/cheese and ham/tuna; some are slices from a giant tray baked one, some are like pasties. Pimientos de padrón are small green peppers which are fried while sprinkled with lots of salt, often served as a tapas. 

On the second day we ate tortilla and a sartén. We made our own tortilla! The Spanish omelette is easy to make, the secret is to mix the fried potatoes and onions in the bowl of beaten eggs, before frying it all together. A sartén is a frying pan, but it also refers to a mix of fried potatoes, eggs and meat (jamón or choriozo) which is served in a black high sided frying pan. It's the best form of comfort food ever.

Tortilla

On the third day we had a menú del día. Almost every restaurant in Spain offers one; it's a large lunch, normally consisting of 3 courses, a drink, bread and maybe a coffee as well if you're lucky, for between 8-15 euros. Believe me it's worth every cent. We had the Asturian themed one. We started with fabada, a special Asturain stew with fabes (large white beans) and chunks of morcilla (black pudding), lacón (pork shoulder) and chorizo in a kind of stock. It's very filling. We continued with pork in a cabrales sauce; cabrales is a rich spreadable Asturian blue cheese. We finished with arroz con leche (a kind of rice pudding which was cold) and a frixuelo (the Asturian word for crepe/pancake), which are both traditional desserts here. Suffice to say we didn't eat dinner that evening. 

Fabada

On the fourth day we munched cachopo. Cachopo is huge, first of all, and some restaurants advertise the size of their's. It's veal steaks layered with cheese and ham, bread-crumbed and fried, served with chips and sometimes a small salad. Very filling and tasty. 

The waiter spilt the water not us. Honestly!

On the fifth day we ate a Regma ice-cream. Ibense is the Asturian brand of ice-cream, which is lovely, but once we tried a Regma there was no going back. Regma is a Santander based brand and despite the limited flavours, and its shop's winter closure, it reigns supreme. A single (with 2 flavours) looks like this: 

I can't imagine how big a double is...

On the sixth and final day we ate some bakery goods. Magdalenas are typical breakfast muffins (only 1 flavour and that's Magdalena plain flavour, though mine had apple on the top), a palmera that is a heart shaped pastry sometimes covered in chocolate or glace icing, bizcocho is a Spanish plain sponge cake and a milhoja, which is a custard/cream slice. 

Then Richard turned into a butterfly and flew back to London and I remained a chubby Asturian caterpillar.

The end.

Orquídea

Orquídea.

Orchid. 

It turns out we're not alone in the flat. We are sharing with a giant 2 foot tall white flowered orchid. 

One of my flatmates had borrowed my measuring jug (I was desperately searching for it to do some hand washing) to water her 'plant'. A few days later I walked into the kitchen early in the morning, switched on the light to be startled by a being on the table. Our kitchen is quite sparse and the orchid looked like a tall person sitting on a chair. A week and a half later I came back from work went to the bathroom, only to find the orchid was already sitting on toilet seat (for the post-shower humidity apparently). 

It hasn't appeared again recently, but when my flatmates leaves her door open when she has left for the weekend you can see it bathed in the moonlight on the window sill at night. 

Eerie.