This week I am putting in my two weeks notice.
As I've explained before, most of my classes are run through two organizations called Get English and The English Centre. In respect to these classes, I have two bosses who provide me with support and manage my schedule. Tomorrow, I am going to inform them that in two weeks time, I will cease to be available for classes, at least until the end of July.
This final decision came rather suddenly after weeks of consideration. When I first started teaching regularly in January, I had initially planned to finish out the semester, and continue teaching until mid-June, or until my students went on summer vacation.
But as I taught for a couple of months, and gained a better feel for the profession, it started to become clear that I would have to make a choice between my job and any future travel plans.
In the field of freelance teaching, there isn't much room for "sick" days. I don't get paid vacation, and there aren't many opportunities to get a sub to cover my classes. Normally, this isn't a problem because teachers usually get a portion of the summer off, and I didn't see a problem with this when I accepted my classes in January. But, as always, special circumstances arose.
First, Jon began to firm up his plans to visit me again after he graduates. And it turned out, he had a perfect two week window in between graduation and his first day at his new job. Great. The only problem was that it was in the beginning of June, which did not fit into my class timeline. But, there was nothing we could do about it. Jon and I had been talking about traveling Northern Spain together for months, even before I came to Barcelona, and we had planned on doing it after graduation. But, we had responsibly and maturely given up on those plans when I took my jobs with no vacation time, and decided that he would still come visit, but I would continue class as normal while he's here. Not the best option, but okay.
Second, in January my Dad decided to come visit me in Barcelona. He's coming to Europe on a business trip, and will skip on over to see me for a couple of weeks. On top of that, he's going to fly out my brother after finals to visit me, too. All of this will happen mid-May. Again, before my classes end. Not ideal, but okay.
One day on the metro, I was feeling particularly bummed about the way these events unfolded. I was excited to have my family visit, but sad about the prospect of missing any weekend trips with them. I was really looking forward to having Jon visit again, but depressed at the thought of giving up all hope of our grand backpacking adventure through Northern Spain.
And then it occurred to me: What am I doing? Did I really come to Spain to work 40 hours per week? Is it possible that I am allowing the work that I take seriously (but let's face it not that seriously) keep me from traveling with my family and boyfriend? Am I letting myself pass a likely once in a lifetime opportunity of experiences?
And it was on that metro several weeks ago when I decided: I'm going to quit my jobs. [cue motivational build-up music] I'm just going to do it. I am going to take advantage of being 23-years-old (an age when I can still pull off making ludicrous and financially irresponsible decisions) and I'm going to do it. Adventure is out there, and I'm going to quit all my jobs to find it.
The truth is, teaching English isn't my only priority here in Spain. Yes, I want to have my first taste of teaching, and yes I work hard at it every day. But I also came here to see new things, have fabulous worldly experiences, and travel. And my classes with my bosses are just not flexible enough to allow for spontaneous (or even planned, for that matter) travel.
And so it was. I talked it over with my Dad and Jon, and all parties agreed that it would be rather silly to miss an awesome month of travel and quality family time to work an extra couple of weeks. And so together we decided that my last day of work will be Friday, May 18th.
And I honestly couldn't be happier about it.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Return to Sevilla: La Feria
Returning to my first Spanish home turned out to be far more emotional than I thought it would be. While sitting on the bus on the way into the city, I realized I was nervous, anxious, and excited. When I finally exited the bus and stepped onto the street, a strange sensation overcame me.
It may seem like an insignificant moment, but for the first time in my life, I returned to a place that I once knew so well, after being away for more than a year. This may seem silly, but it really is a strange thing to come back to a familiar city that you haven't seen in a long time, but where your feet still know the way home.
I remembered the bus stop. I remembered the flowers. I remembered the smell.
As I began walking I was reminded of my first steps in Spain. It was September 2010, and scorching hot. I was tugging (and struggling) two large suitcases with my blue backpack weighing heavy on my back. It was now 19 months later, and I was walking down the very same street, with the very same blue backpack, but so many other factors had changed. I am now a seasoned traveler. My Spanish language skills are excellent. I have a college degree. I have a new profession. I live in a big city called Barcelona. I certainly walk more confidently down the street in my Spanish boots. In fact, this time, upon my first return to Sevilla, I could have been mistaken for a Spaniard. Things were certainly different.
I had been wondering for quite some time whether or not I would remember my way around the city. As I didn't bring a map, I was hoping that I would. So as I walked past the old tobacco factory, I didn't think. I let my feet move. And I followed my feet straight to Gloria.
As I turned the corner onto my old street, I was overwhelmed with emotion. Excited, nervous, nostalgic, almost in tears. I remembered our front door exactly.
I buzzed the apartment, but Gloria was already coming down the stairs. I had known for some time that I would be staying with her for the weekend--I was the one who arranged it. But I still somehow was not prepared to see her again. I watched her walk slowly to open the door. She looked exactly the same. At a loss for words to accurately express my feelings, and how happy I was to see her, I simply bent down and hugged her. She immediately said, "Come on. We're gonna eat breakfast!"
It was like I never left.
She began talking immediately. I had almost forgotten about her ability to talk about anything and everything. She at once began with the questions. She asked about Barcelona, about teaching, about my students, about boys, about friends. Then she handed me a cup of cafe con leche and a large package of cookies and asked, "Three pieces of toast, or four?" Some things never change.
We sat down for breakfast and continued catching up. She told me that she thinks she has to close down her jewelry store because of the economic crisis. That was sad to hear, and I hope she'll be okay. But, with her usual wisdom, she said that's just the way things go sometimes. I was then reminded of my constant urge to write down everything she says.
I had also forgotten the way she bursts out laughing at random moments. I smiled through my entire breakfast. It felt really good to be with my Spanish grandma again. I had missed her so.
After a nice and quite long chat, with all things caught up, my focus shifted. Suddenly, all I could think about was... lunch.
I sat down at the table with the other students she was hosting (a girl from Japan and a brother and sister from Brazil) with the usual heap of paella on my plate. I suddenly remembered how much food she serves. But, no matter, I was starving and craving her delicious specialties. So I scarfed it down. Well, that was a mistake. Because as soon as I took my last bite, she started scooping a second plateful for me. Which was okay, because it's tasty and I still had room in my belly. But when I finished my second plate, she only scooped more, and only stopped when all of the paella was gone. (By the way, the other people at the table were staring at me the entire time, not sure whether to laugh or feel sorry for me. I just showed them how it's done). And when the familiar feeling of being so full that I thought I could explode (or at least vomit) finally sunk in, I remembered: There is a second course. But before I could even raise my eyebrows Gloria handed me a plate full of croquetas and salad. And then I really remembered how much food she serves, and thought hard trying to remember how I conquered these lunches 19 moths ago. I finally took a breath, and started stuffing my mouth with homemade and delectable croquetas. I ate 10. And the whole while Gloria sat in her chair, beaming at her favorite student (her favorite being the one who eats the most), and I couldn't help but be merry.
And so kicked off my first weekend back in Sevilla. A seamless transition back to my old, spoiled Spanish life in la casa de Gloria. I was ready to sink into my afternoon siesta (which is absolutely, physically necessary after a meal like that), and then begin the next main event of the weekend: La Feria.
La Feria was the whole reason I planned to come to Sevilla on this particular weekend. It's one of Andalucia's favorite festivals, and I just had to see it. Particularly because I studied abroad in Sevilla in the fall, and therefore missed out on all the spring fun last time. And I have to say I still remember being bummed about that because I had heard so many amazing things about it. So this was quite an exciting opportunity for me to finally be able to see it for myself.
Here's a bit about it:
Additionally, another awesome bonus of my weekend visit was that I have friends studying in Sevilla. And not only friends, but VIP Boss Lady friends LindsayRolls and Cara (who also came to visit me on my birthday). Perfect feria companions.
And so the three of us set out in the afternoon to the fairgrounds to check it out.
The only downside to the weekend was the rainy weather, which is actually pretty typical in the end of April in Spain. But we managed a few hours of clear skies, and ventured to see the party really get started at sundown.
The thing about La Feria, is that you really need to know someone. Almost all of the casetas are private, and unless you know someone in one, you cannot enter and join the fun. But, as tourists, we simply accepted that we are not Spanish, and just enjoyed walking around and taking in the general atmosphere.
After wandering around for a while, we did manage to find a few public casetas. We of course entered and were immediately mesmerized by the party.
To the foreigner's eye, the Sevillana dance seems complicated. I am a pretty good dancer, and I couldn't find a pattern in the movement. The rhythm and technique is just simply in their blood.
Needless to say, between our confusion and embarrassment, we didn't accomplish much Sevillana dancing. All the same, it was fun to sit back with our rebujitos and watch the show.
At the end of the night, we wandered by an almost empty caseta with some lonely Spanish girls dancing in it. They saw us peering inside (like creepy tourists), and generously invited us to join.
On our way out of the fairgrounds, I remained in awe of La Feria. The traditional flamenco music, the elegant dancing, and the fabulous outfits all combine for a treat for the senses. I have never seen anything like it.
Each caseta is extravagantly decorated. Some are small, quaint, and romantic, lit by paper lanterns with photos on the walls. Some have chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and tables dressed in white linens and flowers. Others are shockingly large with a full kitchen, stage, and dance floor.
Music pours out from every caseta as you walk by on the dirt road. They appear warm, cozy, and magical.
And although I wasn't wearing a polka dot dress with a flower in my hair, and didn't dance la Sevillana in a dimly lit tent, we still had a lovely time.
Yet it's all still a bit hard to describe, and photos don't quite to it justice. So perhaps a couple of videos will give you a better idea of the experience:
See? Even kids know how to do it...
As if a weekend in Sevilla wasn't enough, I was fortunate enough to spend it LindsayRolls, Cara, and Gloria. There's nothing like another weekend spent with close friends to put a big smile on my face and keep the homesickness at bay. And to top it all off, I got to experience La Feria de Abril, which had been on my Spanish bucket list since I first came to Sevilla.
When it was all over, I said goodbye to the girls without much heartache, as I would be seeing them in just a few months. Gloria pushed me out the door early on Sunday morning with a cookie-to-go and a "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'll see you again soon."
And just like that, the spell was broken, and I returned to my everyday life in Bacrelona.
It may seem like an insignificant moment, but for the first time in my life, I returned to a place that I once knew so well, after being away for more than a year. This may seem silly, but it really is a strange thing to come back to a familiar city that you haven't seen in a long time, but where your feet still know the way home.
I remembered the bus stop. I remembered the flowers. I remembered the smell.
As I began walking I was reminded of my first steps in Spain. It was September 2010, and scorching hot. I was tugging (and struggling) two large suitcases with my blue backpack weighing heavy on my back. It was now 19 months later, and I was walking down the very same street, with the very same blue backpack, but so many other factors had changed. I am now a seasoned traveler. My Spanish language skills are excellent. I have a college degree. I have a new profession. I live in a big city called Barcelona. I certainly walk more confidently down the street in my Spanish boots. In fact, this time, upon my first return to Sevilla, I could have been mistaken for a Spaniard. Things were certainly different.
I had been wondering for quite some time whether or not I would remember my way around the city. As I didn't bring a map, I was hoping that I would. So as I walked past the old tobacco factory, I didn't think. I let my feet move. And I followed my feet straight to Gloria.
As I turned the corner onto my old street, I was overwhelmed with emotion. Excited, nervous, nostalgic, almost in tears. I remembered our front door exactly.
I buzzed the apartment, but Gloria was already coming down the stairs. I had known for some time that I would be staying with her for the weekend--I was the one who arranged it. But I still somehow was not prepared to see her again. I watched her walk slowly to open the door. She looked exactly the same. At a loss for words to accurately express my feelings, and how happy I was to see her, I simply bent down and hugged her. She immediately said, "Come on. We're gonna eat breakfast!"
It was like I never left.
She began talking immediately. I had almost forgotten about her ability to talk about anything and everything. She at once began with the questions. She asked about Barcelona, about teaching, about my students, about boys, about friends. Then she handed me a cup of cafe con leche and a large package of cookies and asked, "Three pieces of toast, or four?" Some things never change.
We sat down for breakfast and continued catching up. She told me that she thinks she has to close down her jewelry store because of the economic crisis. That was sad to hear, and I hope she'll be okay. But, with her usual wisdom, she said that's just the way things go sometimes. I was then reminded of my constant urge to write down everything she says.
I had also forgotten the way she bursts out laughing at random moments. I smiled through my entire breakfast. It felt really good to be with my Spanish grandma again. I had missed her so.
After a nice and quite long chat, with all things caught up, my focus shifted. Suddenly, all I could think about was... lunch.
 |
| Gloria whipped up my favorite meal: Croquetas and Paella |
 |
| Gloria in the kitchen, laughing at who knows what |
 |
| Her famous Paella. You've never had shrimp until you've had fresh Spanish shrimp. |
And so kicked off my first weekend back in Sevilla. A seamless transition back to my old, spoiled Spanish life in la casa de Gloria. I was ready to sink into my afternoon siesta (which is absolutely, physically necessary after a meal like that), and then begin the next main event of the weekend: La Feria.
La Feria was the whole reason I planned to come to Sevilla on this particular weekend. It's one of Andalucia's favorite festivals, and I just had to see it. Particularly because I studied abroad in Sevilla in the fall, and therefore missed out on all the spring fun last time. And I have to say I still remember being bummed about that because I had heard so many amazing things about it. So this was quite an exciting opportunity for me to finally be able to see it for myself.
Here's a bit about it:
Every spring, the city of Seville throws a week-long party and one million people show up. The Feria de Abril began as a cattle trading fair in 1847, and over the years has evolved into a round-the-clock spectacle of dancing, bullfighting, and fun.
In the city, the special fairgrounds (which is a mile long and 700 yards wide) is totally covered in rows of casetas, which are individual tents decorated with brightly-striped canvas and thousands of paper lanterns. They are used by families and friends to dine, dance la Sevillana (a traditional Flamenco-like dance), and party it up until 7:00 AM. Some of these casetas belong to prominent families, and others to groups of friends, clubs, schools, or political parties. Each tent has its own atmosphere and traditions. Most are very private, invitation-only affairs, but some are open to the public and have commercial bars.Another important part of La Feria is the clothing, of course. Some men get decked out in traditional suits, and almost all of the women wear Sevillana dresses, which can only be described through photos, of which I have plenty to show you:
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| Caught this gem on the bus on my way into town |
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| Sevillana dresses come in many bright colors and different designs, and the girls wear them all weekend long. |
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| The exact style of the dresses changes from year to year, each Feria making its own fashion statements. |
Additionally, another awesome bonus of my weekend visit was that I have friends studying in Sevilla. And not only friends, but VIP Boss Lady friends LindsayRolls and Cara (who also came to visit me on my birthday). Perfect feria companions.
And so the three of us set out in the afternoon to the fairgrounds to check it out.
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| How cute is this little girl? |
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| And even cuter with her matching mom! |
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| Another mother/daughter Sevillana |
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| The entrance to the Feria grounds. They construct a new spectacular facade every year. |
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| More Sevillanas |
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| Entering the fairgrounds |
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| Buenuelos, a traditional Feria dish. Basically fried donuts dipped in chocolate. Delicious. |
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| Relaxing and chatting with some rebujito, a traditional Feria drink. Basically wine and 7up. |
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| LindsayRolls, Cara and I |
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| Excited to be reunited once again! |
The thing about La Feria, is that you really need to know someone. Almost all of the casetas are private, and unless you know someone in one, you cannot enter and join the fun. But, as tourists, we simply accepted that we are not Spanish, and just enjoyed walking around and taking in the general atmosphere.
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| There is also a large carnival next to the fairgrounds, complete with arcade games and sketchy rides |
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| More Bunuelos! Couldn't resist. |
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| Bouncers regulating the private casetas |
After wandering around for a while, we did manage to find a few public casetas. We of course entered and were immediately mesmerized by the party.
To the foreigner's eye, the Sevillana dance seems complicated. I am a pretty good dancer, and I couldn't find a pattern in the movement. The rhythm and technique is just simply in their blood.
Needless to say, between our confusion and embarrassment, we didn't accomplish much Sevillana dancing. All the same, it was fun to sit back with our rebujitos and watch the show.
At the end of the night, we wandered by an almost empty caseta with some lonely Spanish girls dancing in it. They saw us peering inside (like creepy tourists), and generously invited us to join.
 |
| In the end, we did dance in a caseta! |
Each caseta is extravagantly decorated. Some are small, quaint, and romantic, lit by paper lanterns with photos on the walls. Some have chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and tables dressed in white linens and flowers. Others are shockingly large with a full kitchen, stage, and dance floor.
Music pours out from every caseta as you walk by on the dirt road. They appear warm, cozy, and magical.
And although I wasn't wearing a polka dot dress with a flower in my hair, and didn't dance la Sevillana in a dimly lit tent, we still had a lovely time.
Yet it's all still a bit hard to describe, and photos don't quite to it justice. So perhaps a couple of videos will give you a better idea of the experience:
See? Even kids know how to do it...
As if a weekend in Sevilla wasn't enough, I was fortunate enough to spend it LindsayRolls, Cara, and Gloria. There's nothing like another weekend spent with close friends to put a big smile on my face and keep the homesickness at bay. And to top it all off, I got to experience La Feria de Abril, which had been on my Spanish bucket list since I first came to Sevilla.
When it was all over, I said goodbye to the girls without much heartache, as I would be seeing them in just a few months. Gloria pushed me out the door early on Sunday morning with a cookie-to-go and a "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'll see you again soon."
And just like that, the spell was broken, and I returned to my everyday life in Bacrelona.
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