Confessions Of An English Teacher

Today I celebrate having survived my first two weeks as an English teaching assistant in Spain.

Almost exactly one year ago today I sat next to a man who worked for National Geographic on my flight home from Buenos Aires. As we got to talking, I admitted to him that I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew that I wanted to travel and speak Spanish. He then suggested that I move back to Spain and teach English abroad. At first I shrugged the idea off, but here I am - one year later - working as a language assistant and helping adorable Spanish kids learn English. I would have never thought that life would take me in this direction, but I'm so glad it did.

My primary school in Galapagar

Here are some of the things that I've learned within my first 2 weeks as an Auxiliar de Conversación in Spain:

- There will always be questions kids ask you that you simply don't know how to answer. Some of my personal favorites these past two weeks have included: "What color is your motorbike?" (Such a European thing to say.) "What is your favorite sea dinosaur?" (Ummm... what's your favorite sea dinosaur?! Mine too! What a coincidence...) And best of all, "Why aren't you married???" (Good question, Juan. Gooooood question.)

- Improvisation is one of the foundations of teaching here in Spain. This is especially hard for Type A people like me who are obsessed with excessive planning and organization. Although going with the flow has at times been a challenge for me, it's also taught me to think on my feet more freely - and most importantly - have fun.

- The more teeth a kid has recently lost, the cuter they inevitably are. I'm serious. They're so stinkin' adorable.

- Pretending that I don't speak Spanish is one of the hardest parts of my job. The other day, one of my students told his classmates in Spanish that I looked like a grandma with my glasses on - and I totally called him out. Needless to say, I think some of them are catching on to the fact that I actually understand what they're saying en español.

- Something tells me that I will be making a lot of PowerPoint presentations this year.

- Teaching British English as a native American speaker is beyond frustrating. My jaw dropped the first time a student asked me for a "rubber", because apparently "rubber" means "eraser". Also, I have to teach certain grammatical phrases like "Have you got...?" instead of "Do you have...?", and vocabulary words like "chemist" instead of "pharmacy". Even telling time is harder in British English. (What in the world does "half 11" mean?)

- For every two little monsters, there are four angles that make your heart explode.

My Teaching Survival Essentials:

1. I kid you not, this is the most caffeinated I've ever been in my entire life. In the past month I've quadrupled my coffee intake, and quite frankly this is the only way I get through my mornings. (Despite the fact that school starts at 9 am, the school I teach at is quite far away. Hence, I have to wake up at 6:20 am everyday to get ready, scarf down some breakfast and make my commute.)

2. Kids will do anything for a sticker (or any other "prize" for that matter). They'll even behave! GENIUS.

3. I think it goes without saying that I need a large glass of tinto de verano everyday to quiet my mind from the persistent echoes of screaming children. I mean, when in Spain...

With all that said, I come home from work everyday exhausted but fulfilled. I'm already growing so attached to my little niños, and I love them even when they drive me crazy. Although there can be some challenging moments, at the end of the day I feel incredibly satisfied. 

Txirimiri: The Best Tortilla I've Ever Had

My favorite Spanish dish is and always will be tortilla española.

No, no - I'm not talking about those heavenly rounds of finely ground corn that we use for tacos, enchiladas and other delicious Mexican treats back home in the States. (Spain has yet to recognize the glory of what we call "tortillas" and make them mainstream. Good luck trying to find them in any grocery store.)

I'm talking about the delectable, comforting, and simple yet ever so satisfying Spanish omelette comprised of eggs, potatoes and onions.

I suppose you could call me an amateur connoisseur of tortilla española (also known as tortilla de patatas). I remember taking my first bite of tortilla española on my first night in Cádiz like it was just yesterday; one taste and I was immediately addicted. My host mom may have been a psychopath, but she sure knew how to make a mean tortilla.

Tortillas are naturally gluten free, so imagine my contentment in Cádiz when I would eat something and not get sick afterwards. What a crazy thought! It's no wonder tortilla española quickly became my favorite Spanish dish... it was the only one that didn't make me violently ill. (And also, it's delicious. Enough said.)

For the past three years, my love for tortillas has persisted. Throughout Spain, Argentina and Seattle, I've tried a lot of amazing ones... and unfortunately, I've also tried a lot of horrible ones. (I'm looking at you, ridiculously overpriced tortilla in Plaza Mayor that tasted like plaster. Shame on me for even being tempted by such a tourist trap.) Once in a while, my mom and I will even experiment in the kitchen and attempt to make our own.

But nothing, I repeat, NOTHING, will ever compare to the tortilla española found at Txirimiri.

Located in the barrio of La Latina in Madrid, not a single tourist is to be found in this Basque tapas bar. That's how you know it's really good. Small slices of tortilla española are served as pintxos on top of bread - and although this restaurant is constantly bustling, they still found the time to serve me many tortillas sin pan (without bread).

The tortillas at Txirimiri are melt in your mouth crazy delicious. This is not your average tortilla de patatas, my friends. I'm convinced that the chefs add some sort of magic in these, because the flavors and consistency of their tortillas are out of this world. I can't even.

Before:

After:

Yeah, okay, so technically this was after my third slice. What can I say, it's literally impossible to stop at one.

Suffice it to say, this place is heaven. If you live in Madrid or are just planning to visit, a trip to Txirimiri should be at the top of your list. I promise you will not regret it.

Txirimiri

Calle del Humilladero, 6

Metro: La Latina, Puerta del Toledo or Tirso de Molina

La Vida Madrileña

Now that I've found an apartment and started my job as an English teacher (more to come on that later!), it's finally starting to all sink in. I live in Madrid. 

Umm... what?

You guys. I live here. This ridiculously gorgeous city is my home now. I'm still having difficulty wrapping my mind around that fact, because at times it seems too good to be true. 

If you know me at all or have followed this blog in the past, you probably know that three years ago I studied abroad in Cádiz for five months... and hated it. Okay, "hate" is an exaggeration, because in actuality Cádiz is a stunning city with gorgeous beaches, vivacious locals, picturesque Spanish architecture and hands down the prettiest sunsets I've ever seen in my life. I'm actually dying to go back for a visit. But that's the thing - for me, Cádiz was the ideal town to visit, not live in.

Cádiz was way too small for me; at times, I felt claustrophobic and suffocated. I couldn't understand a single word of el accento andaluz, also known as the world's most confusing Spanish accent. I rushed into studying abroad when I wasn't ready, and as the youngest person in my program, I cried every single day because I was so homesick. (Yes, I just confessed that to the entire world. No shame, folks.) My first host mom was an Franco-worshipping psychopath, and my second host family wasn't much better either. At this point in my life I had no idea that I had Celiac disease, so I was getting violently ill after every meal and had no energy to partake in the vibrant Spanish culture.

I had many romanticized and idealized notions about life in Spain. When reality fell short of my expectations, I felt disappointed and depressed. It was easier for me to project my dissatisfaction onto Cádiz as a whole than deal with it myself.

Coming to Madrid, I was prepared for the worst. I anticipated my first few weeks in Madrid to be filled with unshakable homesickness, frustration with a lack of gluten free food, an inability to understand the Spanish spoken here, loneliness and culture shock.

Thank God I was wrong. In fact, I could not have been more mistaken. 

First of all, the Spanish spoken here is beautiful. As in, I can actually understand people. And when I respond in Spanish, they understand me. What a concept! The best part is when I tell them that I studied abroad in Cádiz and they respond, "How did you understand them there?! Even we can't understand them!" Yes. Instant validation. 

As for the food, Madrid is surprisingly gluten free friendly. Everybody here knows what Celiac disease is, and it's awesome. Initially, I was shocked. Gluten free beer at normal bars? Gluten free burger buns at McDonalds? Custom made gluten free tapas? Yeah, okay. I can deal with this.

Madrid has a vibe that I naturally connect with. It's not too big, but it's not too small. There is always something to see, do or experience - but there are also plenty of opportunities to relax and just be. There are endless bars and restaurants to try, world class museums to visit, beautiful parks to stroll through, eccentric neighborhoods to explore, and friendly people to connect with - Spaniards and expats alike. Dare I say, it's everything I could want in a city. (Minus a beach. But let's not get too picky, shall we?)

Considering this is my third time living in a foreign country, I'm well aware that there is always a "honeymoon phase" of moving abroad, filled with euphoria and blind infatuation with one's new city. (I remember when I first arrived in Cádiz I boasted, "I'm never leaving! I want to stay here for the rest of my life! I'm like, totally a Spaniard!" Little did I know I'd be counting down the days until I could come home in triple digit numbers. "102 days to go, you guys!") This time around, I'm trying not to fall victim to that naive idealism, I'm just trying to take it in realistically and mindfully. As much as I love Madrid, I am fully capable of acknowledging its flaws and my own personal frustrations with certain aspects of the Spanish culture. (For instance, excessive PDA in metro stations. Why do some people find that necessary?? It smells bad, everyone is staring at you, and it's arguably the least romantic place in the world. Take it outside, amigos.)

This year will inevitably have its ups and downs, but it's becoming increasingly clear that Madrid is a good fit for me. I am really happy here. I'm talking about that natural, genuine happiness that you don't even have to think about or force upon yourself. It's just there.