Taking the Fork in the Road

In my entire three years of writing this blog, this has got to be the most painful one to write. Because after starting this blog with my decision to uproot my life in Canada and move to Spain, and after having felt that I'd become immersed in Jaén and would be continuing to live there, I've actually decided to stay in Canada after all. The decision wasn't easy. It was something I'd thought about and agonized over for many months, and after a series of unfortunate events in Spain, it made sense to return to the comfort of home.

My last few months abroad were a bittersweet ending to a story. Most people who leave the auxiliaries (NALCA) program throw grandiose going-away parties, have a thousand tearful goodbyes with friends, and visit as many European cities as possible before returning home and saying goodbye to cheap airfares. That wasn't how I ended things. Many months ago I wrote that I'd been involved in a serious car accident. In the aftermath, I became a bit reclusive and did not develop as many friendships in Jaén, because I wasn't in that mindset. Of the few friendships that did blossom, almost all ended because they were auxiliaries who left once their contract ended. I stayed on and therefore spent the last several weeks in Jaén sadder and lonelier than I'd ever been in a long time.

My last night in bar Guzzi.

Of course, I visited friends in Madrid and Villacarrillo, to express how grateful I was for their support and kindness. For me, not knowing when I'll ever see them in person again is such a horrible feeling. It's hard on either side of the fence: when I left Canada, my friends here were sad to see me go. Now, it's my Spanish friends who are sad, as am I. Because of the auxiliary program, I ended up living in a pueblecito and a city "in the middle of nowhere", and met so many people with whom I had an amazing connection, despite me coming from a large, cold, Canadian city 8,000 km away.

If I'm to be honest, my re-entry into Canada has been a mixture of relief and horribleness. Relief to be with my "family", a.k.a. my closest friends, again. I missed them terribly when I was going through my difficulties overseas, and they have lovingly welcomed me (and my cat) back with open arms. The freedom to eat alone at a restaurant table if I want, not feeling like an alien walking on the streets, the career and lifestyle opportunities available to me...it's fantastic being back home. Actually, one of the coolest things that happened was back when this journey started, I was afraid of leaving my old t.v. career and not being able to return to it. When I came back this summer, I managed to land the exact same job, but with a competing t.v. station. I'm receiving a higher salary and have a better work schedule to boot!

Work work work work work....

On the other hand, many times I still cry, missing my friends in Spain, the sun, the plazas, the quaint streets to walk in, the beautiful scenery of olive trees, speaking Spanish every day, laughing with my dear friends...re-entry has been very hard for me, but I knew that my friends would help me out, which is why a return home made sense. I needed comfort, and it's here.

But coming home hasn't meant I've stopped traveling. I see Canada with new eyes. Now, I feel differently about my hometown, because I am different. Things have changed since I left, and it's been a riot seeking out new places to enjoy. In my city, I've been able to find a boatload of opportunities to practice Spanish as well. In fact, I'm studying in the Spanish translation program at the provincial university. My career goal? To work as a translator and interpreter to help those in need. Currently, I'm training to be a volunteer Spanish interpreter for the Red Cross.

Long term, I hope to take my new career skills on the road. When I moved to Spain, I got bit by a restless travel bug, and there's no vaccine for that! It's very possible I'll be moving again in a year or two. I can't help it, this world is too big not to explore. It's been an intense three years, and there's more years to go. May as well pursue all that is possible, so that when the end of the road comes, I can look back and say, "Yeah, I did that."

May the roads you take be just as satisfying.

Love,
AL

Living Without Internet

I haven't had internet at home for two years.

It started when I moved to Spain. Before that, I'd always had internet in Canada. I couldn't imagine being without it. Even at work, I was always online. When I didn't have plans to go out, I didn't mind because I could stay home and entertain myself with my computer.

Then I moved to Villacarrillo. With my limited Spanish, it was difficult as hell reading the contracts and stipulations on internet company websites. At the only computer store in the village, the clerk said he'd look for a company that wouldn't force me to sign a one-year contract (auxiliary contracts are only worth 8 months of salary). “Te llamo,” he said to me. I thought I'd understood him.

Except I returned to his shop the next day. I obviously had no idea that he said he would call me. “Nooooo, te LLAMO.” he bellowed. Oops. I never did get that internet. The difficulty in signing up for it was too much.

But I learned to live without it. I learned to get a cheap mobile data provider, so I could use Whatsapp and check email on my phone. I used WiFi at my workplaces so that I could Skype.

Stealing my friend's internet

A Canadian friend, who taught English for years in Korea and Turkey, told me she purposely didn't get internet because it forced her to go to internet cafes or pilfer WiFi at eating establishments. In essence, it forced her to get out of the house and interact with society. I agree that not having internet makes you integrate with your community. Unfortunately, this year the internet access at my workplaces isn't great. However, when planning lessons it forces me to be creative and rely on more “organic” activities, rather than Youtube videos or fancy presentations. Recently I walked into a 5^th grade class without any planning whatsoever. I suddenly remembered a question and answer game I'd read about, and explained the rules to the kids on the spot. They ended up loving it so much that they've played it over and over again. I'm glad they love a game where everyone is obligated to speak and practice their English.

I'm sure in the future I'll sign up for home internet. Hopefully by then, I'll feel the lull of the outside world calling me, shut down my computer each afternoon, and step out into the community.

Have you ever dreamt of not having internet at home? Would you try it? Share you thoughts below.

My (friend's) Big Fat Spanish Wedding

The beauty of being integrated in a foreign country is that you get invited to intimate family events, such as my friend's wedding, which was the first I'd ever attended in Spain. It was an eye-opener, a stomach opener, and a marathon partying session.

Everyone descended upon Villacarrillo the night before, to have tapas at 10 p.m. and then surprise the bride with a 1 a.m. serenade on the street, below her window. Very romantic!

It was at this point that I discovered how crazy Spanish people are; I already knew this, but I soon discovered how much more so. After the serenade, everyone (including the bride and groom) wandered over to a relative's car garage to party some more. At 2 a.m. Despite many having to get up in the morning. Despite the wedding being that afternoon.  Despite some having to read at the mass. We sang our hearts out on the street all night and early morning, causing hoarse throats and worry about how some were going to do their church speeches (we joked that they could record it now and do a "Milli Vanilli" at the mass).

I drowsily woke up at 3 p.m. the day of the wedding, ate lunch with my friend's family, and then took a siesta (don't judge, it's practically a necessity to handle the partying in this country). I then got dolled up for the mass, which I ended up missing. I didn't realize that my friends, and many guests, don't attend the mass. Rather, they show up for the rice throwing, then head to the reception hall for the REAL party.

Photos and the "rice launch"

There were TWENTY items on the dinner menu, all delicious. The wine and beer flowed freely while we ate, although I kept it in check because we had a surprise for the bride. We hid behind a door, and after the cake was cut with a sword, the groom's sisters and I came out with our instruments and performed "No puedo vivir sin ti" by Los Ronaldos, while the groom and guests serenaded the bride.

My Nancy Wilson moment

The rest of the party was a blur of photos, caricatures done by artists, a chocolate fondue fountain, open bar, and dancing to spanish music. We then went to a different bar and, after a couple of rounds, I staggered home early...at 7 a.m. (yes, that's considered early by some). All in all, it was a fantastic party and memorable first-time weekend wedding. I'm so grateful to have been a part of it!

Living at Home with Family in Spain

On the weekend, I went to my pueblo and slept at a friend's house. In the morning, I woke up to the most interesting sensation: I felt at home. The quiet comfort of the bedroom I was in, rock music eminating from the bathroom as someone showered, the clink of spoons stirring pots as the day's lunch was being prepared in the kitchen, a low murmur in the livingroom coming from a film on the television. The sounds soothed me, and I felt relaxed knowing there were people in the house.
Quite often, when I've lived with friends or alone, I wake up to an empty apartment. I never realized, until that morning, how much I missed waking up to sounds of people in the house. The last time I heard noise upon waking, I was living with a boyfriend. Before that, with my family. All very long ago.
Sure, my Spanish friends that live with their family aren't necessarily happy about it. In most cases, the economic situation has forced them to move back home. They may see my lot in life and feel envy. But the grass is always greener. I stay at friends' houses and receive fantastic conversation and the best meals ever prepared by motherly hands.
In Canada, my friends and I had "Orphans' Thanksgiving", where instead of gathering with family, we would head to someone's house with food and wine and have dinner together. It's widely acknowledged that many single people cannot, or don't want, to be with family during the holidays. As a person who has celebrated this way for years, I look at the family situation in Spain with envious eyes sometimes. Luckily, I have friends who are willing to extend their family to include me, and I am grateful for that.

Is there joy in being alone?

Last year, I wrote about how hard it was to be a tourist alone in the small towns of Jaén. There seems to be a general consensus that people do everything together, and being alone seems to be regarded as the worst thing in the world. Eating solo and going to events solo is just not done in Úbeda and Villacarrillo. In a pinch, when you're hungry there's no problem standing at the bar and downing a coffee or a beer and a tapa. But it's rare for a woman to do it, nevermind an Asian woman.

Because of my new fear of going out alone, I'd been missing out on a lot: concerts, the San Isidro party in the countryside, and foodie events, just to name a few. So when the opportunity came to watch my student perform in a flamenco show, I decided to bite the bullet and go alone, as none of my friends were interested. I didn't care if I'd end up sitting alone with strangers. This was going to be my first time watching flamenco, Carmen was one of my favorite students, and I wasn't about to repeat my abysmal track record of missing out on opportunities.

When I arrived at the theatre, Carmen's mother spotted me and I told her I didn't have a seat. She prompted me to sit with the family. I detected a slight air of confusion as to why I was alone, but we chatted and the awkwardness disappeared quickly.

Carmen - always in the centre, because she was an excellent dancer.

Los niños bailando!

As soon as I saw Carmen perform I thanked my lucky stars I'd gone to the theatre. She was a spectacular dancer – maybe even the best one! She didn't look like a teenager; she had the air of a woman – her movements spelled confidence from years of training. I was awestruck.

After the show, friends invited me to a verbena - an outdoor plaza party with live music and a bar. I went to bed early – 3:30 a.m. is early for me now – while the band was still churning it out.

Vervena

 The next day, I checked out Corpus Cristi. This is a yearly event where people decorate the streets with olive tree trimmings, flowers, coloured sawdust, and pebbles, amongst other things.

Near the end of my walk, I suddenly felt hungry and was glad I'd gone alone. If I'd been with a group I would have felt obliged to stick with them, or perhaps go to a bar and spend money I didn't have. Instead, because I defied the norm and took a chance, I had great experiences that got me in touch with local culture.

Olive Oil Tour

Ever had olive oil on toast? It's how a lot of people in Spain enjoy their breakfast or mid-morning snack: a honkin' piece of bread with olive oil poured all over it. Sometimes there's crushed tomato, ham, or salt & pepper added. Me, I like it plain. I used to be a bread & butter lover – now, olive oil is my friend.

So when my school announced an oppportunity to tour the biggest olive oil cooperative in the world, guess who ran to the sign-up sheet? This tour was an exercise for some C1 level students to practice their English – a big plus for me, since I'm still having trouble understanding the tough Andalucian accent.

The location of Nuestra Señora del Pilar Cooperative is just outside of Villacarrillo proper - lucky for me, as the previous location was on my street, the next block over from my apartment. With the millions of kilos of olives processed every year, I can't imagine how hellish the traffic and noise would have been had the new factory not been built.

According to my info sheet, there are about 14,000 hectares of land, with more than 1.5 million olive trees. The modern, clean buildings were completed in 2011. It was amazing to see how spotless and huge everything was. Plus, the extraction process is contained to minimize contamination of the water table and surrounding land. They even put aside the leaves and pits, to sell as biomass fuel.

The plant is much appreciated by the coop members, because the previous location, located in the center of my community, was choked with tractors during previous harvests. Sometimes it was so busy, farmers waited in line until 2 a.m.!

A pleasant occurrence in the tour was the heady smell of olive oil. It hung in the air and made me smile everytime I noticed it. All in all, it was a very informative and fun field trip!