Wine not

There are a lot of lucky things about being a second year, and one of them is having friends in different regions of Spain to visit. Eliminating the possibility that Javier Bardem would see me and invite me to be his lover in Oviedo, I went anyways with home base in Gijon; a lush green coastal city with sidra, playa, Nicole, and getting fat all fabada long.

Fabada-dadada

Every time I leave Logrono I get jealous that I don’t live in a city with a Corte Ingles, cooler buildings, more exciting nightlife, Mexican food, etc..but then I remember that I really like the school that I work at, my friends, and my easy simple life in La Rioja.

Contest: Logrono has really yummy wine, Gijon has yummy sidra. Wine not?! It’s a draw at this point.

I first tried sidra in San Sebastian, or at least somewhere near it. I remember a bus ride, walking up a hill, eating a dead animal, giant sidra barrels, hoping the bus would come back, napping on the bench and asking bus, bus? at the cafe nearby, and then doing a powerpoint about it and how I noticed Spaniards can’t not have a loaf of bread at any given moment. Basque sidra is different though. You don’t have to be a professional pour-er to drink it such as me….

I have terrible aim

Gijon was also nice and festive for us with lights, poinsettias, SANTA, and the Reyes magos.

santaaaaa

 

Melchor, Gaspar, Balthasar!

Pomme cuite cafe! The cutest place with yummy breakfast items.

I’m not usually an impulse shopper. I’m not usually a shopper at all which sometimes shocks people since I’m pretty into fashion and cute stuff.  If i’m with my mom and sister, I find a seat next to the dads, boyfriends, and little brothers because I always like the idea of shopping more than the reality of it.

When I saw this hat in Corte Ingles, I had an immediate connection. As soon as I tried it on in the store I knew I would buy it. Then a man came up to me and I thought he was going to yell at me for wearing it around and taking pictures in it but he just wanted to know If I wanted a corte ingles card….I said I’m from Logrono….no hay corte ingles. Triste.

Just ignore my claw like hand and it’s not a bad picture.

 

 

These photos below are from Oviedo.

 

 

Woody Allen (boody, voody…)

 

Incredible colors

And back in Gijon a photo shoot for tourism.

 

I wish I had taken a few more pictures,  and written this blog sooner after the trip since I forgot a lot of details such as when we went to Oviedo …but I know I was too busy soaking up all the fun and beauty.

The funniest pictures might have been from our night out dancing where I was flailing so much that I could only drink water to keep myself going. Then when Gagnam style came up one boy brave enough to approach our group asked me where we were from….”because I know you’re not from here.”

Not trying to blend in by any means good sir.

I’m now in the final stretch before vacation and I’m so ready for Sevilla and some time with my parents. 2012 has been a nice year, but i think 2013 will be even better.

 

un beso

 

 

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Never boring

Do I belong in Spain, Chicago, eating on a rock, a chocolate factory, Sweden, Costa Rica??

This year in Logrono has been a lot different for me for many reasons.

1. It’s my second year so I’m not that same fresh faced, eager dorky adventurer.

2. I’m at a high school now, and I actually get to teach instead of read horrible stories in a semi-British accent.

3. I’m 99% sure that I won’t be doing a 3rd year here.

 

That third reason freaks me out. I love Spain, and teaching, but I don’t feel so certain that Logrono is for me forever. It’s too small and I’m too big figuratively and literally….people still ask me if I’m on a basketball team every once in a while. I thought maybe if I had a special someone here that would convince me to stay a little longer, but I’m an independent woman and I have to think about my future more seriously.

All I know for certain is that I like teaching, writing, and eating.  I also find it difficult to imagine myself so far from the people who love and understand me the most in this whole world, and have given me the world by letting me travel.

If I’m a teacher back home I won’t be able to pull off showing up at the time that school starts, but that will be easier considering the sun rises at a much earlier time making it seem like it’s the day when it is.

This is at 8:20 in the morning on my walk to school which starts at 830….so difficult to wake up.

I’m slowly composing those essays that ask you to explain what an outstanding teacher is, and how do I teach to a range of abilities, and why the F do I want to teach anyways.

I’m reminded each day both why, and perhaps why not. I had a class that had such a successful debate I don’t think they noticed when I just went back to my desk and stared at them all talking from a distance with my mouth wide open semi smiling.

Then I had some other jerk shoo me away when I asked if he had a question. As if I was a fly.

I have one class who thinks i’m in insane in a good way, and another in a bad way.

I have kids that look at me like I just crawled out of a pile of dead rats, and others who look at me like I’m a celebrity.

I have kids that look like they are 11 years old, and 27 years old sitting next to each other.

I teach because it’s never boring.

This summer I asked my mom why she married my dad, and she said because she knew she’d never be bored.

I hope I can find a love like that in my life, and a person who thinks i’m the juiciest peach even when I’m rotten.

 

un beso