where im from

I lived out of the bus station for a few days, Andrew for a few more, until we found places to stay. That was not fun. Making solicitous phone calls is not fun. Making them from a payphone is worse. Making them in Spanish is worse than that. Early attempts at understanding the Andaluz accent compound the language barrier. Throw in Finding places when you have no idea where anything is in the city and the process is ridiculous. I got lucky.
I live in Sevilla in a neighborhood called Macarena, which in Sevillan history had been a poor neighborhood famous for its prostitutes. Sevilla’s most famous painter, Murillo, a student of Velasquez, liked to use the beggars and whores from the Macarena as models for his religious paintings. The neighborhood has improved a lot especially in recent years as the city has spread with Spain’s economic growth and the increased cost of living and now the nearby Alameda is the plaza de los hipsters. It’s like the Williamsburg of Sevilla. I live with a Sevillano and an Italiana, who are awesome. We speak Spanish in the apt. Fran has lived here all his life and if I am able to understand him by the time I’m done here I’ll be able to understand anyone; in any language. Although I’m paying a little more than I’d hoped, the place is also nicer than I’d imagined. I found a great location/roommate combo in about four days which was nice because night to night in hostels suuuucks.
Its about a half hour walk to the center where the cathedral and all the touristy stuff is. Thats also where a lot of the bars are. Botellón, the traditional practice of posting up in a plaza with a bottle of liquor and mixers until you are sufficiently intoxicated to go to the clubs without actually spending money on drinks, has recently been made illegal. I guess they will give you a fine. Everyone still does it of course. When the cops come, the bartenders tell everyone to come into the bar, or the plaza just clears out. Enforcement is as half-assed as everything else official in the country.
I'd say it’s not really safe to walk around by yourself late night. Or maybe now that I’ve been robbed I’m just paranoid. It’s not threat of violence scary, there is just a lot of petty crime. You are especially vulnerable if your genetic makeup has produced a bull’s eye on your face and a neon sign saying “tourist” above your head. While I might get mistaken for German or English, I have a slightly better chance of passing as Spanish than for Aborigine. I don’t even think my dad’s suggestion of changing my name to Pedro Lopez would help. What’s the point? There's definitely nothing to worry about if you comport yourself in a normal manner. Actually if anything there is less threat of crime than I had expected.

prologue

I started off my trip by hitting Madrid, Valencia and Alicante for one day each, the Granada for the two day orientation period before going to Sevilla. From Sevilla it is a little under an hour to Aznalcóllar by bus. Stayed at hip young hostels in Madrid and Valencia, Mad hostel and Red Nest hostel respectively.
In Valencia I had my first cultural swing-and-a-miss. A German guy I met at the hostel and I went out around eleven and started drinking beers, then around 2 moved on to drinks. It was a Friday and no one seemed to be around. By 4am the streets were absolutely packed and I had already had my fill. Oops.
In Alicante I linked up with some Erasmus students and had a good night out. They were all around 22 and Plilippe, an Austrian, told me I acted like a typical 26-yr old. Actually I got directions to a hostel from Philippe when I first arrived in the city and after checking in he just happened to come into the Irish pub I had happened upon in the center. Life, eh?
The beach was unbelievably nice. Rented a lounge chair for three euro and it was totally worth it. I think the Mediterrranean is saltier than Cape Cod Bay. I could float. Was definitely thinking about Ulysses and Phoenicians. I am such a nerd. I had a nice conversation for about 20 minutes with an enthusiastic 67-year-old topless woman from Galicia. A teenage girl drowned in a sunfish accident. It drew quite a crowd. The surf was music to my ears.
When I near to the bus station for my 330pm bus, I had my passport in my bag because my shorts were wet. Some guy asked me if I knew where the train station was and I felt like helping so I got out my guidebook. He kept asking me questions and I was like wait a minute something is rotten in Denmark. I turned and another guy had just withdrawn his hand, now burdened with my passport/visa/wallet containing 100 euro and my bank card, from my bag. He took off sprinting and so did the other guy. They were both like 40 and I could have caught up with them but that would have meant abandoning everything I had brought with me for the year to chase them, so I just cried a lot. I’m such a good traveller.
The orientation was pretty much what I expected, a mess. There were 600 people. I probably talked to about 30 and it just so happened that the person behind me in line was going to Aznalcóllar also, and she had met a third. We linked up, ditched the boring meetings, and got a free ride to Sevilla with a large photographer who sang along to Queen and Bon Jovi with intermittent headbanging for the duration of the three hour ride. It was pouring when he dropped us off at the bus station.

just the facts: aznalcóllar

Aznalcóllar is located about forty kilometers to the northwest of Sevilla. The population is about 6000. It had been a mining community until 1998 when the mine was closed. Now miners from Aznalcóllar and other towns can be seen protesting broken promises of the Andaluz government regarding these closings. If Googled, Aznalcóllar immediately turns up a number of articles on a toxic spill in the early 90’s. It looks a lot like the other towns in the area, that is, whitewashed with tile roofs, a couple of bars in the center and a supervising church tower. The area is surrounded by farmland, and there is a man-made lake nearby where the children like to fish, though you couldn’t get me to drink the water never mind eat any sort of animal with an upper echelon position on the food chain (see aforementioned toxic waste spill). According to the school’s employees, there are high rates of teen pregnancy, drug abuse and divorce.
There are two colegios or primaria schools and one instituto or secondary school. I work in one of the primary schools. There are about 200 students from ages three to twelve. There is one class at each level in each school, except second which has been split into two. Most classes have under twenty students, except for the two highest levels, the fifth and sixth, which each have almost thirty students. School begins at 9am when a tornado alarm (I am told by my Midwestern colleagues) summons the children into alphabetical lines to enter school then spits them back out at 2pm. English begins in first year or six years old.
I am an auxiliar not a teacher. I am not supposed to plan lessons or correct papers, just to go into the classroom and assist in the teaching of English and North American culture. I go in from 9-2 three days a week, right now Mon-Wed and then have my four day weekends to spend my $800/mo. paycheck. Six of my twelve classes are with split between third and fourth (8-9 yr olds).

go sox

http://fairandfoul.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/10/22/death-to-the-underdog/index.html?ref=opinion

declaration of purpose

This blog is for people who want to know what im doing, but not badly enough to ask. It´s also an attempt to keep from repeatedly recounting the same stories and answering the same questions.

Of course there will always be omissions for the protection of the wider audience. If you are interested in the gorier details, we are probably friends or related. Please contact me personally.

This is also somewhat of a foray outside of my comfort zone, as I am less than savvy when it comes to new teckmologies. Bear with me if there are inconsistencies.

Thanks for stopping by!