Time flees. It has been some time now since my last posting to this blog and I think it is about time that I got back in the saddle and bring my friends up to date with my Spanish experience. The weather is more like Ireland now; it is cold and wet most days. Christmas is in the air, shops are starting to put up decorations and festive lights are beginning to appear overhead on most of the main streets in the city. One of the reasons I didn’t post much sooner is that I was sick with a chest infection that just would not go away. I tried all the usual remedies; I attempted to flush it out with beer, I smoked more than usual, I even had a few hot whiskeys in Paco’s but to no avail. After two weeks of coughing incessantly in class and feeling embarrassed when people asked me why I continued to smoke I eventually decided I needed antibiotics. A quick trip to the chemist confirmed my fears; no prescription means no antibiotics. I went to the health centre in the city centre with hopes of seeing a doctor. A woman with a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp and a temperament to match practically threw my European Health Insurance Card back at me over the counter and told me I had to register with my local neighbourhood health centre. With a smile and a painful cough I thanked her for her help. I returned home to google my local health centre. The next morning I arrived at the Centro de Salud de Barrio Naranco. As my chest wrenching coughs echoed up and down the steep streets of Naranco I held in my sweaty hand all the paperwork I could possibly imagine they would ask for. It turned out to be relatively easy; my Spanish is definitely improving. I was seen by a doctor (no charge) who gave me a prescription for a week’s worth of antibiotics (7 euro) and the infection cleared up very soon after that. I am now registered with the health centre and I can ring to make an appointment anytime I am in need of a doctor. Olé!
In saying that I must admit that to date I have not yet made any phone calls in Spain, too nervous, I fear the confusion that is bound to occur. Either the person on the other end won’t understand me or I won’t understand them and then there will be awkward silences as they await an answer and I fight the impulse to hang up. Someday, soon, I will do it.
Life continues in an amazingly boring and isolated way in the flat. My flatmate Moises continues to not make any real effort to talk with me and at this stage I have basically given up trying. When the bills arrive he leaves them on the kitchen table, I leave the money on the kitchen table. The next day the bills and the money are no longer on the table. The only time he talks to me is when he asks me not to stand so close to the mirror in the bathroom when I clean my teeth as he then has to wipe off the tiny splashes on the mirror. Or if I use the washing machine too often he reminds me that the electricity bill is due soon. There are no lights turned on in the flat unless it is absolutely essential. Sometimes I have to use the light on my mobile phone in order to get to the light switch on the other side of the common living area so that I can make my way to the bathroom or kitchen without tripping over the dog who lies on the floor in the darkness. The common living area is a waste of space; neither of us use it. That is because he stays in his bedroom 24/7 and I won’t sit out on the couch because I am made to feel uncomfortable. The last time I did so to watch a DVD he walked past me with the dog to go for a walk, not a word spoken, he returned from the walk with the dog and again had to walk between me and the TV, still not a word spoken. At least the dog came over to me and rubbed his head against my knee. We now have internet and a landline. The internet makes it a bit more bearable when I am in the flat as I can watch things online in my room. Though as I have said the situation is quite uncomfortable and isolating so I will have to remedy that. It is quite likely that I will be moving out of here in early January; I have been asked to move in with a Spanish family. The parents, who are both teachers, would like me to live with them so that their four children can practice speaking English with me. It will of course improve my Spanish too. I will keep you posted on how this works out folks.
I now have some part-time work as a teaching assistant in one of the local schools. Six hours a week, four on Monday, two on Tuesday. The name of the school is Colegio Santa Teresa De Jesus and caters for children from four years of age right up to eighteen years. The college is up the road from where I am living at the moment. When I say up the road I mean ‘up’ the road. It is on the way to the Christ statue on the hill and no matter how cold a day it is I am still sweating after negotiating that incredibly steep gradient. The school is nestled at the foot of the hill of El Cristo and looks out upon the city of Oviedo. In the distance, beyond the city, the encroaching snow-capped mountains are an impressive sight and I get genuine pleasure simply standing on the road and drinking in the view.
I work with nine different classes. Four of them are infant classes and they each get half an hour. They are basically four and five year olds and I have stood in front of them and sang ‘One finger, one thumb keep moving’, ‘Old MacDonald had a Farm’ and ‘If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands’. Then, while they sit on the floor I sit on a tiny little chair and read them a story, pointing at the pictures asking them to name different objects such as a dog, or a table. I ask them if the duck in the picture is happy or sad, that kind of thing. It is all in English and so it is pretty easy for me (I can speak English fluently). It is however highly embarrassing and if anyone I knew were to walk in while I was flapping my arms and clucking like a demented chicken I would feel obliged to kill them before they had the chance to notify the outside world what was going on.
The other classes are kids aged six to seven and eight to nine. I can get away with the ‘one finger one thumb’ gig with the six year olds but the eight and nine year olds are studying science and when I asked one of them to explain to me distinctive features of a mammal I was told that it was viviparous. Dumbfounded, I lowered my finger and thumb and nodded knowingly. "Well done young man", I said. I had to look the word up when I got home. Over the past few weeks the kids seem to have taken a shine to me and as I walk through the corridors I am greeted from all directions with ‘Hola Colin’ or ‘Hello Colin, how are you today?’ Some of the girls insist on hugging my leg when I arrive at the class. Love hearts have started to appear on the blackboard with the words ‘I love Colin’ written in them. Some of them think it is hilarious that when they ask me a question in Spanish I reply to them in Spanish saying I can't speak Spanish and therefore don’t understand what they mean and that they will have to ask me again in English. I separate the classes into teams and hold quizzes based on what they have been studying. They seem to love that.
Yesterday I was invited to have lunch with the staff in the canteen. I walked into el comedor a couple of minutes too early, before any of the staff had arrived. The canteen was still full of kids eating their lunch. Immediately I was met with a chorus of ‘Hello Colin, how are you today?’ Each of them asking individually and expecting an individual answer. As the children shouted and waved I noticed the catering staff looking at me, wondering who the celebrity was. Each child is given a hot two course lunch and healthy dessert such as fruit or yogurt. There is a playing field outside and a small running track. The facilities are very impressive indeed. All the staff have been very welcoming and helpful and there is always a real teacher present when I am with the children. They all wear white coats and remind me of doctors or dentists. You can see some of them in one of the photos. The lunch was a two course meal consisting of pasta and chorizo with a large helping of pickled vegetables for el primer plato, el segundo was a large slice of tortilla with tuna. Two large salad bowls sat on the table with olive oil in a bottle so that you could add according to taste. A few of the teachers have practically no English but they are friendly and try to engage me in conversation. The teachers that I work with appear to be pleased with me and tell me that I am doing very well with the kids. As long as I can come up with songs with lots of actions for the little ones and can think up new games and quizzes for the older ones everything will be fine. One finger one thumb will get old soon enough so any suggestions for keeping them entertained would be most grateful folks.
I think that is enough news for this posting. I am involved with an informal language exchange that has been set up in L’esperteyu, the pub next door to Paco’s. It is on every Wednesday night and it has really improved the social aspect of my stay here in Oviedo. Perhaps my next blog will be about that.
