Poco a Poco
If I had a euro for every time someone sincerely told me I should get a Spanish boyfriend, I could probably use that money to buy Celta Vigo tickets (which I sorta did! I'm going to see a Celta Vigo game!!!). A surprising number of the adults I've met have told me the best thing I can do for myself is get a boyfriend, starting with Alfredo. When he first said that, I laughed a little bit. But the second, third, fourth, and every time after that, I just smiled weakly and thought, "Oh, he's serious." Which is interesting because he prefaces every piece of advice he gives me with the phrase, "If it were my daughter..."
The CRD (where I live will henceforth be called the CRD) has taken some getting used to. I'm 'de beca,' meaning I have a scholarship of sorts, but because I only half-heartedly paid attention during my original tour of the place (I really didn't want to live there), I didn't know what I had to pay for and what I got for free. For instance, breakfast, lunch, and dinner are free for me. Laundry and dryer services are also free. Coffee in the little cafeteria across the hall...not so free. And I learned that by becoming a criminal. Oops.
Also, as far as I can tell, they lock the doors at random. There is no discernible pattern to when or why they lock which doors. Maybe there's a guy with the master key sitting in his office throwing some darts at a board and deciding that way.
My first week was really lonely. I didn't know anyone and any of the students I met were intimidated by me the moment I told them I wasn't a student, but rather a 'professor' of sorts. They looked at me with a look that said, "Please don't confiscate my cell phone" and from that moment on kept me at arm's length.
So instead I made friends with all the staff: the administration, the cafeteria workers, the security, even the cleaning lady was my best friend. I can't tell you how many times I explained "Soy la chica de inglés. De la enfermeria," "I'm the girl who speaks English. From the infirmary." (Side note: Yes, I actually live in the actual infirmary. As terrifying as that might sound, it's not a big scary ward with a morgue and jars of body parts floating in mystery liquid. It's just a ward with a small office with a room for medical assessments, and 10 bedrooms. Many-probably all-of these people have looked at me like I'm crazy when I say this until I assure them there are bedrooms in the infirmary)
Every night at meal time, I went to the cafeteria and sat down at the smallest table I could find. I didn't want to take up a table for 8 for just myself. I thought about selecting a table at random and asking to sit with whoever was already there. I was certainly capable, and who would be rude enough to say no, right? "Puedo sentarme aquí?" I'd say. But then what do I say? Words failed me after "Can I sit here?" and so, for the first week, I sat by myself and hoped against hope that someone would invite themselves to sit with the lonely American girl who was trying to make herself look as available as possible (for someone as painfully shy as I am, the policy on making friends is 'make yourself look as available as possible and hope someone walks up to say hello.' That's about as outgoing as it gets).
ANYWAY this pity party ended one Thursday when I sat down at a table that was next to a girl sitting by herself-a big step for me. I hadn't had water for dinner for days because I could never find it. I always looked on with jealousy as others took satisfying gulps from the water goblets (when you look with jealousy, others suddenly drink from goblets while you have a mere glass). The girl finished eating and on her way to return her tray, she stopped at my table and we had the following conversation:
Spanish girl: "Do you want water?"
Me: "Oh! Yes, please!"
SG: "You're new." (It wasn't a question)
Me: "Uh, well, yes. Is it obvious?"
SG: "Yeah, all the new people are in here eating without water."
Me: "Yeah well where the eff is it?! It's like they hide it."
SG: Says nothing, laughs and points to a cart about 15 feet away filled with pitchers of what I can assume is water.
Me: "Oh."
SG: "So where do you live?"
Me: "In the infirmary."
SG: Confused, are-you-crazy type stare.
Me: "Uh, yeah I live in the infirmary. There are, uh, beds. I'm not a student. I'm going to give English classes."
SG: "Huh. Okay. Well...see you later."
This particular Spanish girl's name is Christina. The next day she insisted that I can't eat alone anymore. This was unfortunately a Friday, and because all the students go home on Friday afternoon, our friendship would have to wait until Monday to begin.
After a long and boring weekend, I went to go check out the laundry situation on Sunday night. I ran into one of the administrative workers whose name escapes me, and she invited me to her office so we could figure it out together (nothing's easy here in españa). Her office was over in the boys' dorm. On the way, she pointed me out to just about every guy we encountered. I mean, every guy. I just smiled and waved timidly and didn't make any attempt to commit the many names to memory as they were thrown at me.
About an hour later, I went to dinner and sat at my usual small table to eat. About 5 minutes later, someone approached my table. It was one of the boys who had been "introduced" to me before in my search for laundry machines. He told me his is Alejandro, and he, his brother, and his friend Ivan sat down with me. The conversation actually went pretty well considering my crippling shyness and inability to speak Spanish. They advised me to stop calling myself a "profesora" because it's off-putting and not entirely accurate (damn! It sounds so impressive, though!). "Auxiliar" is much more fitting, and it doesn't imply that I'm above, or an authority figure to, any of the students. It means "assistant to the professor" more or less.
My new friends are all from Madrid. Alejandro sings in his own band and can play four different instruments. His brother is learning to be a pilot. I exaggerated my connection to California to make myself sound interesting. We chatted until we were the last ones in the cafeteria. After we were done, I hammed up my pathetic-ness, pointed down the stairs, and said "Well...I live down there, so...." and trailed off. The boys promptly invited me to the common areas to hang out. It worked!
"Te enseñamos" they said, which means "we'll show you." It appears they thought I was newer than I was. I'd seen the game room and the TV room and the common areas before, a detail I conveniently left out so that I could have more of a reason to keep hanging out. Alex's brother left and returned some minutes later with a deck of weird cards. They taught me a game that was really similar to Asshole, only there are no face cards and you stay sober the whole time.
At 10:30 the administrative worker from before came in and told us that it was time for the girls to leave. Yeah. The girls and boys can't be in the common areas together after 10:30 at night. *Eye roll* It's worse than being in Belk dorm. At least then you could have boys over until midnight.
Anyway, all in all my regression from being 22 and living on my own to living with 18 & 19 year olds in a segregated dorm with an administratively imposed curfew has been okay. It is certainly (still) taking some getting used to, but I'm staying positive and trying to take in all the Spanish that I can. Poco a poco, bit by bit, right?
El mundo es un libro y ellos que no viajan leen sólo una página.
The CRD (where I live will henceforth be called the CRD) has taken some getting used to. I'm 'de beca,' meaning I have a scholarship of sorts, but because I only half-heartedly paid attention during my original tour of the place (I really didn't want to live there), I didn't know what I had to pay for and what I got for free. For instance, breakfast, lunch, and dinner are free for me. Laundry and dryer services are also free. Coffee in the little cafeteria across the hall...not so free. And I learned that by becoming a criminal. Oops.
Also, as far as I can tell, they lock the doors at random. There is no discernible pattern to when or why they lock which doors. Maybe there's a guy with the master key sitting in his office throwing some darts at a board and deciding that way.
My first week was really lonely. I didn't know anyone and any of the students I met were intimidated by me the moment I told them I wasn't a student, but rather a 'professor' of sorts. They looked at me with a look that said, "Please don't confiscate my cell phone" and from that moment on kept me at arm's length.
So instead I made friends with all the staff: the administration, the cafeteria workers, the security, even the cleaning lady was my best friend. I can't tell you how many times I explained "Soy la chica de inglés. De la enfermeria," "I'm the girl who speaks English. From the infirmary." (Side note: Yes, I actually live in the actual infirmary. As terrifying as that might sound, it's not a big scary ward with a morgue and jars of body parts floating in mystery liquid. It's just a ward with a small office with a room for medical assessments, and 10 bedrooms. Many-probably all-of these people have looked at me like I'm crazy when I say this until I assure them there are bedrooms in the infirmary)
Every night at meal time, I went to the cafeteria and sat down at the smallest table I could find. I didn't want to take up a table for 8 for just myself. I thought about selecting a table at random and asking to sit with whoever was already there. I was certainly capable, and who would be rude enough to say no, right? "Puedo sentarme aquí?" I'd say. But then what do I say? Words failed me after "Can I sit here?" and so, for the first week, I sat by myself and hoped against hope that someone would invite themselves to sit with the lonely American girl who was trying to make herself look as available as possible (for someone as painfully shy as I am, the policy on making friends is 'make yourself look as available as possible and hope someone walks up to say hello.' That's about as outgoing as it gets).
ANYWAY this pity party ended one Thursday when I sat down at a table that was next to a girl sitting by herself-a big step for me. I hadn't had water for dinner for days because I could never find it. I always looked on with jealousy as others took satisfying gulps from the water goblets (when you look with jealousy, others suddenly drink from goblets while you have a mere glass). The girl finished eating and on her way to return her tray, she stopped at my table and we had the following conversation:
Spanish girl: "Do you want water?"
Me: "Oh! Yes, please!"
SG: "You're new." (It wasn't a question)
Me: "Uh, well, yes. Is it obvious?"
SG: "Yeah, all the new people are in here eating without water."
Me: "Yeah well where the eff is it?! It's like they hide it."
SG: Says nothing, laughs and points to a cart about 15 feet away filled with pitchers of what I can assume is water.
Me: "Oh."
SG: "So where do you live?"
Me: "In the infirmary."
SG: Confused, are-you-crazy type stare.
Me: "Uh, yeah I live in the infirmary. There are, uh, beds. I'm not a student. I'm going to give English classes."
SG: "Huh. Okay. Well...see you later."
This particular Spanish girl's name is Christina. The next day she insisted that I can't eat alone anymore. This was unfortunately a Friday, and because all the students go home on Friday afternoon, our friendship would have to wait until Monday to begin.
After a long and boring weekend, I went to go check out the laundry situation on Sunday night. I ran into one of the administrative workers whose name escapes me, and she invited me to her office so we could figure it out together (nothing's easy here in españa). Her office was over in the boys' dorm. On the way, she pointed me out to just about every guy we encountered. I mean, every guy. I just smiled and waved timidly and didn't make any attempt to commit the many names to memory as they were thrown at me.
About an hour later, I went to dinner and sat at my usual small table to eat. About 5 minutes later, someone approached my table. It was one of the boys who had been "introduced" to me before in my search for laundry machines. He told me his is Alejandro, and he, his brother, and his friend Ivan sat down with me. The conversation actually went pretty well considering my crippling shyness and inability to speak Spanish. They advised me to stop calling myself a "profesora" because it's off-putting and not entirely accurate (damn! It sounds so impressive, though!). "Auxiliar" is much more fitting, and it doesn't imply that I'm above, or an authority figure to, any of the students. It means "assistant to the professor" more or less.
My new friends are all from Madrid. Alejandro sings in his own band and can play four different instruments. His brother is learning to be a pilot. I exaggerated my connection to California to make myself sound interesting. We chatted until we were the last ones in the cafeteria. After we were done, I hammed up my pathetic-ness, pointed down the stairs, and said "Well...I live down there, so...." and trailed off. The boys promptly invited me to the common areas to hang out. It worked!
"Te enseñamos" they said, which means "we'll show you." It appears they thought I was newer than I was. I'd seen the game room and the TV room and the common areas before, a detail I conveniently left out so that I could have more of a reason to keep hanging out. Alex's brother left and returned some minutes later with a deck of weird cards. They taught me a game that was really similar to Asshole, only there are no face cards and you stay sober the whole time.
At 10:30 the administrative worker from before came in and told us that it was time for the girls to leave. Yeah. The girls and boys can't be in the common areas together after 10:30 at night. *Eye roll* It's worse than being in Belk dorm. At least then you could have boys over until midnight.
Anyway, all in all my regression from being 22 and living on my own to living with 18 & 19 year olds in a segregated dorm with an administratively imposed curfew has been okay. It is certainly (still) taking some getting used to, but I'm staying positive and trying to take in all the Spanish that I can. Poco a poco, bit by bit, right?
El mundo es un libro y ellos que no viajan leen sólo una página.
Yes, little-by-little, you will fit in and have lots of friends.
ReplyDeleteThanks, interesting
ReplyDelete"They taught me a game that was really similar to Asshole, only there are no face cards and you stay sober the whole time."
ReplyDeleteWHAT IS THE POINT?!??