General Life Update or Why I Stopped Writing this Blog and Wrote a Dissertation Instead!

So, we meet again.  Long time since I've written here...and I sort of left in the middle of things.  If I get some time I will finish the series on being an au-pair as it was a wonderful experience and I want to re-visit it and remember.

Day to day life plods on the same.  A lot of studying and essay writing was undertaken, and my dissertation was handed in in December after a lot of hard work!

Finally, it was done!  

However, time is most definitely of the essence.  I have just finished my last ever semester as an undergraduate at the University of Glasgow.  Five exams, starting at the end of April and lasting until the 17th May, a Grad Ball (which took up a bit of time as I was helping to organize it) on the 26th May and then *dun dun dun* Graduation on 26th June!
 

Then I say goodbye to it all...very strange feeling as I know I want to travel, I don't want to settle down and start a career without properly thinking about it and 'tengo muchas ganas' about seeing the world, but...and here's the rub...I don't want to disappear and lose my life again.        

Since returning home at the end of my year abroad, I have found new friends and rekindled old friendships which were affected by my previous journey.  I know how hard it is to keep in contact with people when you don't see them regularly due to being across the sea, and how easy it is to just move on.  The thing is I don't want to take the easy option.  I want and need these people in my life, not as part of the background but as friends whom I see and talk to regularly.

My last ever music club concert with the GUBB - I'm 2nd (or 4th) smallest

Hispanic Panic! with some of my best friends who all happen to be students of Spanish!

Selfie time!  

On the other hand, I know that my future, at least in the short-term cannot be here.  I have already applied to go back to Spain as a language assistant, hoping and wishing that I get placed in Barcelona in order to improve my catalan alongside my castilian.  I feel more at ease using Spanish as my everyday tongue and part of my resolutions for this year was that my 'Spanish persona' - a more confident, fiery and extroverted form of my personality - could translate over into my Scottish self.  I'm still very much an introvert (although technically I fall on the scale as an introverted ambivert) and find social situations daunting, the ball of anxiety knotting in my stomach, but I can see the difference, and others have commented on it, since coming home.

Another pic of the Big Band!  Look at Team Trumpet in the back!  

 

I think this has gotten a bit rambly...so perhaps it is time to wrap it up.  The future is a very big, scary, daunting place which I'm heading to on a daily basis.  Change is inevitable as I attempt to figure out the next step.  The next trip I take is actually going to be closer to home as I'm off to Leeds on Saturday to meet my imaginary friends for the first time and then I'm still trying to plan a jaunt to see my sister who is on ERASMUS in Maastricht, Netherlands.  Summer is rapidly approaching and my vague plans are to go to France for 6 weeks whilst studying a language course in order to have the requisite time to apply for teacher training.  And then, well, hopefully it'll be on yet another plane destined for my adopted homeland - *fingers crossed* for somewhere in Catalonia!  Preferably near a Ryanair airport so people can come visit!        


       

Au-Pair - 1 - Back to Espana

After a long hiatus, mainly due to the stresses of Junior Honours and the fact that this seems to be more of a travel blog than anything else, I will be trying to write some more on this blog...at least during the summer as I'm back living in Espana :)   Well, for two more weeks...

So why am I back?  And what am I doing?  To answer this we need to go back a little in time...

*wibbly wobbly effects*

At the end of my year abroad my Spanish level was pretty good, I rapidly improved and I understood just about everything that people would say to me.  But I still felt that my oral skills were sorely lacking, and even though I spoke in my oral classes I always felt that my fluency should be higher and that my confidence when speaking, which lacks even in English as I'm quite introvert, needed to be higher in order that my final language exams could reflect what I feel like I can achieve.  So I started looking for a way to get myself back to Spain, in order to A) immerse myself in Spanish and B) if possible to attend Spanish language classes to reinforce the grammar and correct/academic language use.  The answer came in the form of being an Au-Pair.

An Au-Pair's job description varies from playing with kids in English and generally baby-sitting them whilst their parents are working to being a full-on Mary Poppins complete with house work and cooking.  By using the website aupair-world.co.uk I found an ideal family...they were Catalan and lived next to the beach...the downside, they have two little boys, one of whom is still in diapers...After a long hard think, I had to turn down their offer as my Castillian language skills have to take precedent, although I still plan on living in Catalonia one day .  I then returned to looking and found another gem of a family.  After a few Skype sessions where I met the family and the little boy, I bought my tickets and set my sights on living in Tres Cantos (a satellite town about 30 mins on the Cercanias from the centre of Madrid).  Tres Cantos has a very good economic level, and the people here are not worrying about La Crisis.  For example, my family have two cars, own their house and their child goes to a semi-private school where he learns English, Chinese and Arabic...have I mentioned he is 6!

So family found, flights booked, cases packed and my sister was also staying in Madrid as an Au-Pair. Summer was off to a flying start.


I left the UK on the 15th of June and finally met my host family face to face...or cara a cara.

Year Abroad: Highlights of the Week 14th – 20th April

Saturday 14^th – Went out for a walk and sat in the sun.  Read Mockingjay again because I’d gotten it on ebook before my kindle broke and now with my kindle had been replaced.

Sunday 15^th – Lazy day.

Monday 16^th – Went with Jenna to Jaen to see her wedding dress and so that she could get it fitted.  It is gorgeous.  She will be such a beautiful bride in August. 

Tuesday 17^th – Found out that I was going to be a “judge” for the Cultural Olympics.  General good times in the school.

Wednesday 18^th – Jenna came up for her dinner.  We were both laughing about the daft things our schools were getting us to do.  I had been volunteered to be a “judge” for the Cultural Olympics.  She had to go to Madrid and give a live-action demonstration of the bombing of Guernica inside the Reina-Sofia art gallery…she wins.

Thursday 19^th – Cultural Olympics!  This turned out to actually be fun.  We had to check the quiz answers that the kids gave us and whittle the groups down until there was only one winner.  The questions were in all sorts of categories based on what they should have learned in class. 

We all got given wee presents for our part – I got a t-shirt and a sun dial.  Alejandra asked Moises if he’d explain to me how a sun dial works….we just exchanged looks and laughed…I had to explain that yes we have enough sunlight to make sun dials work, oh Spanish people!

After it was over we all went out for drinks and chatted.  Fali kept doing mimes and since I laughed at them he has taken to doing one whenever I see him.

Friday 20^th – I was given my first hour off because I’d been at the Olympics…and the rest of the day passed without incident.  I had been re-thinking trying to go home the following weekend for my dad’s birthday and managed to find a cheap enough flight to justify it.  Problem was I’d need to miss and hour of class in order to get to Malaga in time.  Thus commenced three long days where I had to wait for a teacher to get back in touch to confirm or deny this.

Year Abroad: Highlights of the Week 7th – 13th April

Saturday 7^th April – I played a concert with the band, but it was a tad unusual.  It was at a Bullfight.  A once in a lifetime experience that I’m glad I had the opportunity to do, but I don’t think I’ll be viewing another bullfight any time soon. 

Sunday 8^th April – Another amazing opportunity thanks to the band.  I was playing in two full-blown processions on Easter Sunday.  First time I have marched and played at the same time.   

Monday 9^th April – Went to Ubeda with my mum to show her the other town.  Walked around in the nice sunshine and then went to a café for a nice roll.   In the evening we went out with Jenna.  It was so funny when my mum didn’t really know how to introduce herself.  She started off with “hi I’m Mary Ann’s mum” then after a pause “you can call me Ann”.

Tuesday 10^th April – My mum came down to the school with me and sat in the staff room whilst I did my classes.  During the interval when we went to eat breakfast she got churros and I re-tried them.  I am still not a churro fan but *meh* they are all right.  She was obsessed with finding out why the different cofradias have different sized pointy hats.  We still haven’t gotten an answer.

Wednesday 11^th April – Mother’s last day.  I went to work and then met my mum during the break.  It was freeeeeeezing cold.  We bought some of the statuettes of the Cofridias, one as a present to my sister and the other for my mum’s school.  We went out for dinner in the evening and then chilled out and sorted stuff for my mum’s travel home.

Thursday 12^th April – Mum left.  Emotional.  Slept for a lot of the day.

Friday 13^th April -

Year Abroad: Semana Santa Part 6 – The day I played in two processions

After the excitement of the bullfight, and it was exciting or at least it filled me with adrenaline and nervous energy, it was time to start gearing up for what would round off my Semana Santa experience – Easter Sunday marching with the band.

When I first found out that I was going to be able to play in a real life Semana Santa procession I was bouncing off of the walls.  To me these are one of the truly unique Spanish traditions – lo Español -, at least to the extent that they go to.  And to take part in one in my town which is relatively devoid of foreigners was just amazing. 

The night before we found the correct church…in fact it was third time lucky…just goes to show you how many churches there are in such a small area.  So we knew where we were going.  My mums job was to take my picture as I marched so that I had a keep-sake of my once in a lifetime experience.  I found the area where my band were getting ready and got my music folder.  They were all asking me about how I enjoyed the bullfight and what I thought of it and I was interested to hear their opinions as well since this is an accepted tradition in their culture.  My answer was in the middle, so that I didn’t come across as hating what seems to be an integral part of their culture but also that I didn’t come across as advocating it.   One of the girls who is about my age said that she hated bullfights and how could anyone enjoy a feria of death.  This was the strongest opinion I had heard from a Spaniard, although one of my friends Reyes also really does not like bullfighting, but we haven’t really spoken about it much.  Then one of the old guys (I’m friends with all the really old men in this band whose names I don’t remember since they are the ones who talk to me) started telling me and some of the kids that after the bull dies they butcher it and eat it.  I’m still sure that he was making fun of us.

The hermanadad leaving the church

Martin, our conductor.  One of my favourite people in Baeza.

Marching

On Calle San Pablo in the centre of Baeza

Finding the next piece of music.

Me playing with the band

 

We were at the tail end of the procession as the drum and coronet band were at the front.  We waited until they had gotten far enough ahead of us and then we started.  This was the first time I’d ever had to march in time, play my trumpet and keep my eyes on the streets just in case there were holes (the only time I had walked and played had been the day before at the bullring).  It was hilarious trying to match my stride to the two guys next to me because there was a small 11 year old on one side and a giant 20 something on the other…our strides do not naturally match up.  The next challenge came whenever we had to change music because since we didn’t have a set list we had to try and hear Martin shouting the names.  I’m proud to say that there was only one piece that I couldn’t find in time to play it. 

We marched for a total of three hours with plenty of breaks in between, standing waiting on the streets as the people watched the slow procession.  By the time we got to the park we were all hot and a little bit fed up.  When one of the old men leaned over to get a drink out of the fountain, another turned it all the way up and soaked him.  Luckily he took it in good humour and we all had a good laugh as Antonio had to walk the rest of the way a bit damp. 

Being that Baeza is such a small community, it was no surprise that some of my kids would be in the crowd.  It was however a surprise for them to see me playing.  When I went into school on the Tuesday they were all really excited that they’d seen me and one little boy went into a huff because he’d missed it.  That was adorable. 

My uniform without the jacket.

After the march I went and sat in the centre of Baeza with my mammy.  I was exhausted but far too hyper to even consider sleeping.  And anyways I had to do the whole thing again in just a few hours. 

The second procession was El Nino.  It involved both a trono carried by adults but also a special one carried by really young children.  The music we played was much more upbeat and it had more of a party atmosphere to it.  This was shown when the trono carrying Mary began to dance…well sway from side to side and bob up and down.  People on the balconies threw rose petals and flowers onto it. 

And then it was all over.  I had taken part in, and completed, another once in a lifetime event.  That made two over the course of two days.  I loved being able to take part in such a Spanish tradition along with my band.  And I definitely enjoyed the marching much more than the bullfight.  This was definitely a highlight of my year.  Made so much more special by the fact that my mum was there to see it…it meant that it definitely wasn’t a dream.  

Year Abroad: Semana Santa Part 5 – The day I played at a bullfight

            Saturday of Holy week rolled around and it was time for me to go and play at a very special event with the band…a bullfight.  I’d been humming and hawing about whether or not I was going to go and do it, but I decided to go mainly because when would I ever get the chance again.  The answer to that is never.  And I could not let myself not go just because I was squeamish and didn’t agree with what was going to take place. 

            So my mum and I walked down to the bar next to the bullring where the band were meeting and we talked to them about bullfighting and how we do not have anything like this in Scotland, and no we don’t even show it on TV.  My mum was going to wait in the bar for me to finish because a) the bullfight tickets were so expensive because there was supposed to be a celebrity matador who ironically had to pull out because he injured himself whilst on his cattle farm and b) she had already seen a bullfight and didn’t want to do it again.  So off I went with the band into the ring.

            The kids from my classes were explaining all the different things that I was going to see and what each part meant.  Then one of the old men from the band came over to me and asked if I wanted to get my picture taken with a Matador…again, when will I ever be able to do that?!  So we ran over and got a picture with Sergio Aguilar the best of the matadors who was there that day. 

Me and Sergio Aguilar the matador

            We then made our entrance into the arena.  We marched around the ring for a couple of laps and played some music, then we had to climb up to the very top of the seating area and wait until we had to play.  The bullring was about half full, but because of the date and weather conditions it was only the hard core fans who came out to see it. 

            Bullfights are very ritualised and each stage can only began after certain conditions are met.  The start of the fight involves two men on horseback saluting the president (the judge who makes sure each part is completed and who makes the decisions as to whether the bullfighter is awarded trophies, if the bull gets pardoned etc.) and who then take a circuit of the ring.  Then all the men who will participate in the event come out and salute the president and the crowd.

The men who salute the president

We played whilst all the toreadors came into the ring.

            Then a trumpet blast signals the start.  The bull comes out of the holding pen, often being forced to come out with people banging on the cage.  The toredors start baiting the bull to charge at them by waving their capes.  This is to see how dangerous the bull is and where it wants to run to in the ring.  After the necessary number of passes it is time for the picadores to enter the ring.  These men are on horseback and their job is to stab a group of neck muscles on the bull causing it to be weakened and to start losing blood.  The horses are blindfolded and are covered in padding so that they are less likely to be injured. 

The first picador whilst the other toreadors act to keep the horse from being in danger

Sergio "dancing" with his bull before killing it

Using the cape 

            The second stage involves two men sticking flags into the bull.  These also weaken the bull’s muscles and causes more bleeding.  The bull is angry but exhausted and is dying already and so it is time to bring out the matador.

            The final stage is the killing of the bull.  This is also the stage where the band comes in.  A good matador can use the cape to “dance” with the bull and so the band played pasadobles.  And then he goes for the kill.  If it is done well he may be awarded trophies like the ears and tail, if not then he will be booed by an angry crowd.  They may have just watched a spectacle of death but they do not actually want to see the bull in pain, by this point they want it to be put out of its misery with dignity and as little pain as they can.  Once the bull is dead it is dragged from the ring by two mules.

            Throughout the whole evening I had a knot in my stomach.  But I tried to distance my personal opinions from what I was seeing and to attempt to see it as part of the culture I was surrounded in.  This was definitely helped by the fact that I was surrounded by the band who were all locals and many of whom are fans of bullfighting, although not all of them are.  Over the course of three hours I witnessed the death of six bulls. 

           

            One of the matadors, a local boy from Linares, was not good at all.  He is a younger brother and son of two very famous bullfighters but he does not seem to be all that talented.  He botched the killing of both of his bulls and the crowd booed and hissed at him.  He also received a time warning as he took far too long to kill the bull.  Another was gored during the killing of his first bull.  He was kicked to the ground, kicked in the head, had some broken ribs and ended up with a gash in his leg.  He was dragged from the ring but got back up and killed his bull while holding his side.  He was applauded but he didn’t get any trophies because he did fall down and that means he is not worthy.  He was taken to Ubeda and was operated on overnight.  The last matador was the man whom I got my picture taken with – Sergio.  He was a good matador.  He was the only one with whom you could see the argument that bullfighting is an “art”.  He used the cape to get the bull to move to the music.  After his first bull he was awarded both of the ears, but during the killing of the second bull he tripped and so was only awarded one ear.  Three in total.

Carrying his trophies.  Two ears cut off of the dead bull.

Sergio after being awarded his trophies which he threw into the crowd.

            Two of the bulls were very pathetic creatures according to the people I was with.  They fell over and the crowd starting laughing.  I felt really ill at those points and by the end of every round I just wanted them to put the bull out of its misery, and to be taken away from that place.  The biggest and best bull was saved until last, and after that was done it was time to go home.  I went over to the pub to see my mum and the first question I was asked was “Cuantas orejas?” (How many ears?) as this indicates the quality of the match.  Three as it turns out is not good.  I sat down with a drink and recanted the tale to my mum.

            As it turns out Sergio was awarded another honour.  He left the ring salida en hombros which means on the shoulders of his admirers. 

            I am not in favour of bullfighting but I am not advocating that it should be banned.  It is not our place as foreigners to say.  I don’t think I am likely to go to another corrida but I am glad that I went to this one.  I saw this bullfight in the best way that it was possible for me to see it and it has taken me a while to reconcile my thoughts and views, although they will remain privately with me.  I can understand why some Spaniards enjoy it, and why others hate it. 

            If you have the opportunity to go to a bullfight with local people with local knowledge then go.  You will certainly experience another facet of Spanish culture.         

Year Abroad: Semana Santa Part 4 - Madrid and back to Baeza

We arrived back in Madrid in the early evening on the Wednesday of Holy Week.  We had to go and check in to our new accommodation, the room we hastily booked after our upset earlier in the week.  The room was basic, but clean, and the woman who ran the hostel was very nice.  We then headed out into the city to find some food and to stretch our legs after the train. 

 

We headed towards the other side of the Puerta del Sol in search of food and eventually stumbled upon a bar which had a decent looking menu del dia, just as the rain began.  We sat in the bar for a while, eating and watching a really bad Spanish comedy show.  We headed back out into the city just as the rain had stopped and as we were walking back across the Puerta del Sol we saw a large crowd assembled and heard drumming coming down one of the side streets.  We had inadvertently stumbled onto a Semana Santa procession.  The first one my mother and I had ever seen in real life.  She did her usual of getting over-emotional…oh mammy…and we watched the different cofradias marching with the different tronos and bands.  I couldn’t wait for Easter Sunday so that I could join in one. 

Solid wooden trono.  Decorated with fresh flowers.

The Cofradia carrying the crosses.  some were even barefoot.  All done as penance.

A representative of each of the groups who marched.

This outfit was the most impressive of them.

That trono is very heavy.  It takes up to 80 people to carry one.

The following day we got up at a reasonable time and we decided we would go and see the NASA exhibition which was going on at Casa del Campo at the other side of Madrid, just outside the city.  The trip to get there was interesting to say the least.  We got the metro and when we came back out into the city we were not in Kansas anymore…we were out in the rough part of the town.  We had our google map directions and headed through the dodgy looking flats.  We got a little confused and we had to ask someone for directions…she was definitely a few screws lose….she flagged down two policemen who were there to get the crazy homeless guy with a bat away from the residential area…but anyway we made it in one piece to the exhibit.

The exhibition was NASA: A Human Adventure and it was all about the beginnings of the space race up to the present day and into the future programmes of NASA and their partners like ESA.  We were given an audio-guide which was divided up into sections and had a lot of information broken up into sections: The Dreamers (the visionaries and sci-fi writers who inspired so many to try to get humans into space), Go Fever! (about the Space Race and the first astronauts Yuri Gagarin and Alan Shepard), Pioneers (people like Konstantin Tsiolkovsky and Hermann Oberth whose work helped invent the first rockets), Innovation (the machines and technology used), Endurance (space suits and the food taken on board), The Next Generation (NASA’s future projects) and a special memorial for those astronauts who died trying to reach their goals.

An early space suit design

The entrance to the Dreamers section which focused on sci-fi writers such as Jules Verne who inspired so many to reach for the stars.

My mum and I both loved the exhibit.  I have always been fascinated by space and if I had even an inkling of physics ability I’d be working for a space agency when I graduated…alas I don’t so I’ll need to make do with hoping to be an interpreter of the aliens ever land, xeno-linguistics anyone.  There were loads of model rockets showing the scale and evolution of design.  It was interesting to see the different types of fuel which could have been used etc.  The website about the exhibition has more info if anyone wants it http://ahumanadventure.com/exhibition

After the exhibition it was time to head back into the city centre and grab a coffee.  We headed to Starbucks just as the rain came on again.  So we sat there a while whilst our Rick Steve’s guidebook came up with suggestions on where to go next.  It told us that the Royal Palace was free to EU citizens on Thursday afternoons, and since neither of us had ever visited it we gritted our teeth and headed out into the pouring rain to visit the palace. 

We stood in a line outside the palace for about fifteen minutes and managed to get royally soaked (pun intended).  Using our newly acquired guidebook we wandered through the palace and found out a lot of things that weren’t on the official plaques (which were also very interesting).  Most of the rooms were so intricately designed and beautifully decorated.  And our guidebook told us how some of the more elaborate reliefs had to be dismantled during the civil war and how if you look closely you can see the joints.  And it was interesting to see a foreign palace, even though I haven’t seen Buckingham or Holyrood anyway. 

My mum at the placio real

I'm one of the guards now

Across the courtyard is the cathedral

After the palace we went back to the hostal to dry off, get changed and the headed out for dinner.  Another day another menu del dia.  Good hearty Spanish food.  I’m pretty sure I had roast chicken which I love when it is made in Spain because it is always so juicy. 

On the Friday we were getting ready to head back to the bus station and back to Baeza.  A very leisurely day.    

  

When we arrived back in Baeza as we were walking back to the flat with all our travelling stuff we ran into a problem…or rather into a procession.  We had of course timed it so that our arrival coincided with the end of a Good Friday mass and one of the largest processions of the week.  We stood on the main street and watched it, with all our luggage before we went the very long circuitous route to the apartment.  My band was due to play at nine o’clock so we got ready to go and see them.  We stopped off to watch the end of the previous procession as they were doing the final round and got to witness one of the defining features of an Andalusian Semana Santa – a seata.  The old man who had sung at my concert the previous week started singing in the street as the rain drizzled down.  The seata is when Andaluz people sing/talk to God.  It is very powerful and it is taken with a lot of respect.  For example, the people carrying the trono needed to get it inside because of the rain but because this old man was singing they couldn’t/wouldn’t move forward.  After he stopped they double marched into the church. 

The trono showing Jesus being taken down from the cross after his death.

Whilst we normally associate this look with the KKK it started out as a way to give penance to God anonymously. Here in Andalusia there is normally at least one member of every family doing this every year.

One of the brotherhoods walking in the main street of Baeza.

Once you have done this once you will be buried with the robes as an indicator when you get to heaven that you have done it.

Solid wooden trono, intricately designed.

The old man singing his saeta.

We arrived at the starting place where the banda de Baeza were supposed to be starting from.  Unfortunately due to the rain their procession was cancelled but at least my mum got to meet Martin and Pepe and some of the other band members.  Then I took her to go and get some drinks at one of the pubs.  We returned to the flat exhausted and ready for bed.