Update on Devil child:

So, Tony aka Antoni was again a problem for me on Monday! He said shit 3 times and I had to threaten to tell his mom and dad! We were learning the human body and I had this fun assignment where we rolled out a roll of wrapping paper and drew an outline of one of the kids who laid on the paper and the other traced (NO way in HELL I was giving Tony a marker while his kid sister was laying on the ground). So, Tony was the kid we traced and Imma and I helped him label the parts of the body. Mind you this worked for every other students that I had in the weeks previous but not this time! Tony only wanted to roll around on the ground, open and close the fridge door about 1000 times, and ask me questions in Spanish. He wanted to know how many kids I had and when I explained I didn’t have any he was then obsessed with knowing about my personal life. “Quien es tu novio?” (Who is your boyfriend) I knew he hated Iker Casillas (the number one goalie who is ubbber hot) so of course I said Iker was my boyfriend and then shit hit the fan! He went nuts speaking so fast there was no way in Hell I could figure out what he was saying so he runs in to his dad’s office and asks him how to ask me questions in English! “How do you know Iker and why do you like him?” was what Tony asked me. I had to laugh and tell him I was joking but he was pissed! He then asked his 5 year old sister to ask me what boobs were called in English and he pulled my pants down and I threatened to knock out the rest of his front teeth with my fist (I said what’s this…a hand. And what are these…fingers. What is it called when I close them like this…a fist.) Just as his mother walks in the room Tony grabs the marker out of my hand and gives our human body a penis and vagina! God bless his lil devil soul.

Guess which one Tony is in the school picture!!

Motor vehicles:

Here in Barcelona you may own and drive whatever your lil heart desires as long as you wear a helmet. You have a moped that puts out black smog..go ahead and ride that bad boy. You have a dirt bike that sounds like a umm dirt bike and you wanna ride your girl on the back…Hell why not. Oh, you have a four wheeler that you wanna weld a frame to so your groceries are safe and sound…that amazing just wear a helmet and you’re good to go! Every single motor vehicle that you can think of drives around here on the sidewalks and roads and is perfectly legal. There are also no speed limits so you better not be blind, deaf, in a hurry, slow, in a wheelchair, or not paying attention because you will die. Kate and I have this inside joke about this very situation we call it Mother duck and her ducklings. Kate is almost always Mother Duck and she crosses the busy roads only thinking about herself and not the many ducklings that are trailing not far behind her! I always yell across the street to her “Damn you mother Duck always leaving us!” She is either fearless or stupid because sometimes I think to myself there is no way she’s going to make it and then the motorcyclists revs his engine and flies right past her!

Flatmate:

When Annie decided to pack up and brave the States once again we were stuck with an open room and needed someone to fill it to help with the bills. For 2 weeks Evita, a chic from Cyprus, moved in. She was really cool and she helped Kate and I out when we needed to know if Albania was close to Russia like we thought or if it was by Iran or where ever the Hell it was before we jetted off there. She pulls out the huge map in Greek and I looked at it and said the dumbest thing possible, “Shit it looks Greek!” She really didn’t think it was that stupid. She said they say in Greece it looks Chinese to me instead of Greek! When she moved out we got a new roommate (flatmate here because roommate has something to do with sexual preference) Martin from the Czech Republic! Martin worked at Travel Bar with Jim and Paul and the lot. We met him at our new hangout called Sub Rosa. The bartender, Paul, is really cool and hooks us up with happy hour prices whenever we roll in and also free shots! So, we met him and he was like I need a house and you have a house so can I move in say in a week…and that was it. Martin’s dad came into town for a week and we had the pleasure of partying with the crazy fool! The man speaks not one word of English or Spanish, but had entire conversations with everyone at the bar! I don’t know if you’ve ever heard or seen Czech but it’s crazy to my ears and eyes! He was telling me that he played futbol for the Czech team when he was younger and drinking about 12 different cocktails at once! Martin ended up being carried out by his twasted dad that night! Luv Sub Rosa!

The Scotts:

So, the night of Jim’s Birthday celebrations the gang decided to start at travel bar and try to do some sort of bar crawl. I was being a brat and was sitting in the house for like 5 mins when I started laughing (mind you I was by myself so this was a lil weird) anyways I then texted Kate as said I was going to stop acting like Annie and I’d be at the bar in mins. As I walked in Travel Bar I was accosted by a huge group of men who were crazy drunk and had accents! I proceeded to find the group, mainly Kate, and tell her what happened as I walked in! Then a brilliant idea occurred to me. “Hey Kate you wanna play a lil game with the Scotts? It’s called how many free drinks and shots can we get before we move on to the next bar!” She was like well duh! So, I pranced up to the bar in the middle of the Scottish men’s group wearing a lil pink dress with black hoes and heels. All we had to do was stand there for about 2 seconds when three of the older men came over and asked what we were drinking. I explained that it was my 22nd Birthday and Kate (my big sister…she came up with that part) and I were celebrating! Shots and beers and drinks later one of the men said that I shouldn’t be talking to the “old farts” and meet his son. Let me see what do I say about the son other than he is a personal trainer and smoking hot! So he came over to me and asked if I was a stagatrious (or that’s the sound that I thought was coming out of his mouth) and I was like what??? He meant Sagittarius. Then I was busted because I forgot I WAS a Sagittarius and not an Aquarius because it was my birthday today in November. I told hottie it wasn’t my birthday and that his dad must have thought I said that because it was my boys b-day who was in the back of the bar! Anyways, I love not paying for drinks and having the crazy Scotts pay for em! Hey learned form the best, thanks Nik! So, why you ask were there 5,000,000 Scottish men in BCN?? Well, the Scotts and BCN played futbol that night and BCN was overrun by the drunken Scottish futbol fans. It was all over the news and Las Ramblas was like a crowed club full of moshers. The stores ran out of beer because the Scotts kept buying it, drinking it, throwing the trash in huge piles, and doing it all over again! I made the mistake of taking the Metro near Ramblas at Catalunya. In the underground there was a drunk gang singing and chanting and they were surrounding me…I kept thinking God I hope you mess with me because I can totally cuss you out and you’ll know exactly what I’m saying unlike the Spanish people they were messing with! Luckly I got out there with no problem but the news reported many disturbing things that the men did while staying in BCN. This is just a taste of European futbol fans and I’ll tell more stories I’ve heard from the Brits later.

Our Hood:

We live in Poble Sec which we have dubbed Lil India because everyone that resides here is from East India, Pakistan, Morocco, or The Dominican Republic. We are not just the only blond hair blue eyed humans in our area but we are also the ONLY white people in our area. We walk down the street and everyone just stares. I mean I’m used to it because I’m cute as Hell but damn it’s everyday and every person here! There are a lot of families who live around us and many old half dead souls. Someone told me that near Montjuic is where a lot of old families live. These families have been in this area for centuries and since people don’t die they are still kicking in their flats. Montjuic is this awesome park that covers almost as much land as the rest of the city. There is an old fort that was used for shooting enemies who came by sea, hundreds of gardens, museums, a hotel, clubs, and spectacular city view. The Olympic village is also located in Montjuic. Kate and I were walking through Montjuic toward Placa Espanya when we saw a dude wearing an Ohio State Buckeye ball cap petting the grass near the museum! We talked to him and found out that college was too hard for him and he didn’t go, but that he was a fan of the Buckeyes probably because they win and he’s an asshole fair weather fan. His posse was touching the grass to see if it was real…yeah there’s gonna be fake grass in this million year old park next to a couple decades old fountain! Smart.

Big City Living:

So, as everyone knows I grew up in Greendale IN population: everyone knows everyone and their mother, brother, and who their dating. Moving across the world I must admit is a little overwhelming, but nothing compares to the differences in living in Cincinnati/Greendale and living here in BCN! This city never sleeps, well it sleeps during the day when I’m out and about trying to run errands, but I’m not counting that because it’s only a catnap not real sleep! As I’ve told most of you people get up late, work a couple of hours, eat and nap, go home, eat again around 11pm and then stay out all night drinking and socializing. It was so weird to Kate and me when we first moved in our apartment because at 9-11pm when we were tired and wanted to relax and sleep the city comes to life! The cars start whizzing by, the motorcycles and dirt bikes start their engines, people from every crevice crawl out from their nap and party. The night is blocked out by all the lights from the houses, restaurants, bars, and dance clubs. There are children running up and down the streets playing and screaming at 12am!
There are so many people here in BCN. Someday I’ll have internet and I can quote the correct amount of fools living here but let’s just say it’s a Hell of a lot! There are people everywhere at all times of the day and night. When Kate and I are strolling in around 4am there are people. When Kate has to teach on Fridays at 8 in the morning there are mass amounts of people. Some people live here and work here but there are tons of people that are just here for whatever reason taking up sidewalk space! I’ve never been to a really huge city before such as New York and I imagine it’s the same way there but its nuts. Las Ramblas is the clusterfuck of the world and there is no nicer way to put it. All Ramblas is is a huge street with mass bodies, restaurants, street performer freaks, more tourists, and people selling crap. At first we were like this street is crazy and cool but after living here I know better than to walk down it if I can help it. I would suggest that everyone see Las Ramblas because I telling you stories can’t compare to the real experience. I was told that “tourist season” was over after the first month we lived here and that everywhere would calm down and clear out…mentrosas (liars).
Another aspect of Big City Living I’m never going to get used to is the smell of a Big city! Having 5 bazillion people in one city, 70 bazillion dogs, no trees or grass, and mass amounts of garbage makes this place reek to high heaven! Every time I leave my casa I walk outside and immediately hold my breath. We have one small twig like tree that is planted right outside our door that is known as the piss tree for every animal in a 100 foot radius. What I would give for some concrete to fill in the hole so that NO dog could call it their personal urinal! Next, I walk across the street and every so often I hold my breath as I walk past the many garbage bins and recycling bins. I’ve gotten so good at holding my breath that now I challenge myself everyday to see how many thousand bins I can walk past without taking a breath. I do believe I would be a much better swimmer now than I ever was because I can now hold my breath for like a min! Sara can appreciate where I’m coming from on this part because she has a smeller like mine. I was blessed with the most sensitive sense of smell, touch, hearing… and because of this I can’t eat spicy foods, I smell everything and sometimes it makes me ill, I remember everything by the way it smells, can’t get deep tissue massages and can ease drop from far away. The only problem I have with these super senses here in BCN is the smell sense (I can’t ease drop cause I can’t speak Catalan!) Rotting garbage, animal smells, seafood, garlic, saltwater, body odor, exhaust, and KFC are all the smells of the Big City that I can’t live with.
I have decided that I do really love Europe and like Spain, but cannot live in BCN for longer than a year. I feel as if I’m being slowly poisoned by some unknown gas (thanks Kate for the idea) and that’s the reason everyone from the states is getting sick here and why I feel like shit all the time. At first I thought I was getting poisoned from our stove in our apt. or from another apt. near us, but now I believe that it’s the Metro that’s getting me. The Metro is what other places call the subway, an underground tunnel way for trains and people to get around the city. There is no fresh air in these poison filled underground tunnels and there are so many people with sniffley noses and death coughs that I am SURE that I am getting germs, diseases, and poisoned from these tunnels. There was an entire week that I couldn’t fully wake up. I had my eyes open and I was walking around awake, but I wasn’t fully awake. I felt like I was on drugs like that time I had my teeth out and was on Codine (the devil’s drug) and couldn’t function, was tired, couldn’t focus, and just felt like shit. After that week I started airing out my room daily no matter what the temp was outside and practicing my breath holding techniques in the Metro too!

Fountain of Youth with many wrinkles:

So, as I said earlier people here don’t freaking die they just rot away in their skin until their skin becomes one with the concrete that we have to walk on every day which is why we freak out when we get “dead people”on us (what we call dirt or any substance that gets on us when we’re outside). Kate seems to get tortured by the “squirting stones” every day. Since every sidewalk and street here is made of cobblestones or bricks that are irregularly laid out, water and dead people collect under the stones and if you’re a lucky bitch, you step on the stone and it juices your leg. On the other hand, if you don’t get squirted by a stone you could always be dripped on from above. I say its people’s laundry dripping dry but we’re not sure, and it always seems to drip on Kate’s face. Our neighbors, old man winter and his wife scraggly throat and the questionable third voice we sometimes hear are prime examples of death walking. Old Man Winter takes his daily stair climb to go to the market in the morning, and we usually are lucky enough to get stuck in the stairwell with him during his climb back up (which takes a minimum of 2 hours). Finally, when he gets to the top we have to listen to old black lungs hack and spit and die a little until he eventually has enough strength to eek out “hola, bon dia” to us. His wife, Scraggly Throat, rarely faces the stair climb but is quick to scurry out to the balcony we share if she hears one sniffle from Kate or me as we hang our laundry. She then proceeds to ramble in Catalan even though she KNOWS we only speak English. So far, from what we’ve gathered from her soliloquies she thinks there are a lot of stairs in our building, she covers our hanging laundry with plastic when it rains (bless her old carcass for that), and her single dead flower needs to be watered “thiiiis much” (in Catalan of course) every day. Old Man Winter is a tiny skeleton of a man with a semi-youthful looking face. He smokes like ten packs of cigs a day and hacks, snores, spits and any other nastyass dying sound effect a human can possible make. I of course am on the same schedule as OMW when it comes to using the bathroom. I get to have the pleasure of looking in his saggy face every time I walk into MY bathroom because our windows look into each other. This reminds me of a crazy true story that happened while I was hanging out with Ed in Ohio. He had this apt and this cat. One week or maybe two he left the cat and I was sort of cat sitting for him. When he got back he said he walked in his apt. and the cat was nowhere to be found! I knew I had fed the damn thing and saw it so I knew it was there the last time I was in the apt but Ed couldn’t find her. Later he tells me the crazy story about how his neighbor crawled through the laundry shoot that was between their apts. And stole the cat (because it was crying) and how she looked after the cat at nights and forgot to bring her back that day before he got there! I almost freaked the Hell out when I heard this and had to see this laundry shoot for myself ! This shoot was literally a hole to the basement but I guess she put a board across it and shimmied into his apt. The reason I recall this amazing tale is because I have nightmares of OMW sliding a board across our windows and crawling in my bathroom!! Ewww.
Mrs. Scraggly throat could be over a hundred years old and loves to dye her hair a wonderful shade of red and let her gray roots shine through. She can’t stand completely upright because her skin and skeleton don’t align anymore and because her daily activity consists of sprinting out her door once a day to scream Catalan to us. Last week Kate got to witness a seriously disturbing sight…OMW and Mrs. Scraggly throat in the shower together! All I heard was “Vale Vale Vale Vale.” (Pronounced ball-eh) So, we’re guessing Mrs. Scraggly throat is Vale. Every time I walk down the streets of Poble Sec I have to dodge left and right to miss all the dying souls that live near us and are venturing out to buy fruits and veggies. The sidewalks here are slanted, cobblestone, and downright skinny lil places to walk. In the states if someone is walking towards you on the sidewalk or on the street you see them, move out of their way, and then continue on your way…oh no not here! I am the freaking invisible woman here in BCN. I walk down the streets and people just run me over, knock me down, and all together don’t see me. I decided that I was going to yell something sarcastically at them like “DO you see me?’ But, then I remembered they probably won’t speak English so I learned the phrase “No Me Ves??” It literally means do you see me in Spanish and it doesn’t exactly translate but Javier said they would know EXACTLY why I was saying it so I’m excited to use it. Wait, I’m about to go to school so I’ll get to use it today! Oh, one more old person story. There is a blind man who has a cane and he walks around every day and I have so much respect for him because I can’t believe he’s lived this long with all the crazy driving, messed up streets, and the people who can’t seem to see other people.
Kate wrote some of this, if it doesn't sound like I did..I prob didn't!

Stories from the first month:

The first day Kate, Annie, and I try to find school we get lost…duh. The directions said the school was off Rambla and since we had been in BCN for a week and thought we were hot shit and knew this city like the backs of our hands we waited til the last second to leave the hostel. Of course, the “Ohio girls” were on the wrong street, wrong area, and already late for the first day of school. We were walking down Las Ramblas where all the street performers are and all the hustle and bustle is. So, we finally realize we’re in the wrong place and need to move it so we don’t walk into school an hour late when we see him, the man of my dreams! Walking down the street is a man around 67 years’ old buckass naked sporting only his tattoo covered skin and his penis piercing. His penis was so long and so tattied up that I didn’t even know what I was staring at. Seriously, BCN has no rules especially on Las Ramblas. Needless to say we were about an hour late to our first school of TEFL training…classic “Ohio girls.”

More where this comes from...

My kids:

So, I talked about the cuties I teach my private lessons to but I need a lil section to fully let you comprehend what I’ve been up to! Mondays I have Ramon, 10 and Marce, 8 for an hour. Both kids have the best behavior and have a good understanding of the English language. We do a lesson every week and play some games also. After I teach them I walk to their cousin’s house to teach Imma the genius, 5 and her crazy brother Antonio, 7. Tony is my only problem child. He is so full of energy that he has to sing (in Spanish) during every activity we do. I don’t’ mean like oh I’ll hum a lil tune…no he’s screaming this Spanish crap song and his mom is in the other room like what the Hell is Erin doing! Also, he is king of finding anything I bring with me or in the room that he can throw. Last week it was a bouncy ball that he repeatedly bounced off the wall above my head until it hit me , the week before it was my text book that he kept stealing and trying to color in even though I told him not to like 1000 times. This week Tony decided to fight with his sister, cry, throw her on the ground, yell Mierda (shit), and not learn one single thing…god I love him! So, being me I decided to mess with him because he’s a lost cause. When he messes around I stick my tongue out at him, I steal anything that he gets his grubby lil hands on, and I poke him. I give every kid a sticker after they finish their class and I always threaten him that he won’t get one if he doesn’t sit down and stop chucking pencils, rubbers (erasers), and my broken crayons that he broke 5 mins before. My favorite part is that I teach their father later in the evening and he asked me about the kids and I was going on and on about Imma saying how smart she is and he was like “She does amazing in school but Tony is just…Tony,” and I was like yeah. Tuesday I have Gabi, 9 and Guillermo, 7 who are the cutest lil boys with curly hair. They give me no headaches. Guillermo calls spiders speedermans and I die laughing everytime and can't correct him! Wed. I have Josefina the mother and her kids Albert and Sandra. They are a great family and learn very quickly. Thurdays I have the 5 and 7 year old I spoke about earlier. Critina and Mireia are so much fun! I practically just babysit them for two hours and throw in some English when they feel like it. If someone would have said Erin next year you will be crawling around on the floor barking like a dog, singing High School Musical and the ABC’s, drawing silly faces to describe emotions, and buying stickers by the bulk I would have laughed…but I’m doing it and loving every minute of it! Mireia is allergic to gluton so she can’t eat anything really…no bread, no cookies, nothing with gluton!

Progression of “our bum”:

The first time we encountered our bum was outside the KFC that is off of the Parallel Metro stop where we live. He stands about 6 foot tall and has long wavy hair that has been dyed, but not recent enough to not have black roots. Yeah, a bum that gets his hair dyed. There are so many questions right there such as where does he get the money for the dye, what possessed him to dye it that wonderful shade of orange, and what sink did he rinse in??? He sports a black leather jacket with fringe, chains, black jeans and rocks the Outsiders/50’s gang style. Back to KFC. So, he stands outside KFC begging for my hard earned money while he’s drinking a coffee and eating 15 Euros worth of KFC! No bueno I say. Next, we’re in line at the grocery and he cuts in front of us and pays for loads of dog food. Dog food you ask…yes he has a huge German shepherd type huge dog that eats dog food that our bum buys from the grocery. Next, I’m walking along ignoring him as much as I can when I hear this noise coming from the dog or bum. I stopped and looked to see what could possibly be making that sound when I see it…a radio! Yes, now our bum has a radio with batteries and he jams with his dog while sipping coffee and eating drumsticks. Kate witnessed someone throwing away a single bed and he came and swooped it up with a quickness. She said he was carrying it around on his head to be like “Hey look at me I have a freaking bed now!” So, he was sleeping rather comfortably or at least that’s what I thought until the following week he had sheets and a red decorative pillow. Every morning before he has his morning brew he gets up stows his suitcase and other belongings in the locker/side of the wall and makes his bed, pillow and all. I honestly thought the progression was going to have to stop there because Hell hes got all he needs, but no our bum needed more. As I turn the corner to get to my place I happen to look over to the hidey hole our bum calls home and what do I see but a freaking double bed! People, no one in BCN has a double bed! I sleep on a rock that my landlord Ester calls a bed that is the size of me and if you know me, which I would hope you do because your reading this, you know how not big I am. Our bum is now sleeping more comfortably than I am because he has a bigger, softer, nicer bed than I and it’s warmer outside then in a BCN home. Seriously this town is fucked up!

Working in BCN:

Well, where do I start about working in BCN? I’ll start with the FACT that no one in BCN works. People get up later than Americans by far and then they have this two hours siesta/nap/long ass lunch thing every day that they do decide to actually go into to work. I start my work day at 2pm in the afternoon at a business called Kone. I believe they make and sell elevators or something like that. Side blip: Marc told me that in the near future like say 10-15 years every household and business will have to have a lift/elevator and the city is fronting the bill. This is a huge deal here because old people don’t die (I’ll get into that later) and the buildings are so old and tall and it’s going to be quite a feat to equip every business. Back to it. Mondays and Wednesday I have 3-4 women who are pre-intermediate which means nothing but they know some vocab, some grammar, and cannot speak to me conversationally. The women are nice but this is their break/siesta time and they much rather talk in Spanish or Catalan then listen to me rattle on about countable and uncountable nouns. On Tuesday s and Thursdays I have pre-beginner which means they said in their own Spanglish way “we are on level zero but below.” Actually they were saying zero in Spanish and pointing below the table and pointing to themselves. One of my first lessons I was assessing their level and I played the game I Like…, I don’t Like… and the one older gentleman said he liked mas mas mas mas mas woman. I corrected him and said if he liked that many chicas then they were called women not woman! He also let me know that he didn’t like men. That class went well. Next class we we’re practicing adjectives and the word pretty was taught during the lesson. Another older man in the class looked at me and said como se dice professor en Ingles…I said teacher. He went on to tell the class and myself that “The teacher of English is pretty.” It was funny the first ten times but when him and fathertime kept at it I was about to lose it…then the class was over! Adios. My classes are only an hour and the people are usually late because time in BCN doesn’t exist (again later discussion) so even if I have a shit class it’s over before I know it. At night I go to people’s homes and teach their children and some of the parents. Mom asked me, “Don’t you feel weird going in to someone’s house and teaching and then walking out with money?” At first I was like this is sort of weird but as soon as those Euros hit my lil fingers it was no longer weird! The kids I have all differ in ability but are around the same age s; age 5-11. I swear I have a 5 year old genius girl Imma (pronounced EEEEmmma). She was doing her colors and reading and writing when her mom came in the kitchen and informed me that her daughter cannot read yet…but she was reading and writing for me. Anyways, the kids are all angels and they are so cute I could eat them with a spoon. The parents are all very nice and the ones I teach really want to learn which is refreshing and rewarding. Having that horrible 8-6 job at home was so daunting with no rewards and I definitely think this is more rewarding, but hell it’s a lot of work. Lesson plans don’t write themselves and pictures of all the Barca football players don’t cut themselves out of newspapers and magazines. I always knew my parents had hard jobs being teachers but you can’t really understand until you’ve done it. Tomorrow I start with a new family of two girls one 5 and one 7 who speak not one word of English so I bet I’ll add another section tomorrow night entitled something like oh shit, kill me, I hate kids, or what the Hell is high school musical??!!

October 17, 2007

So, I’m sitting in my bed wearing pants and an España zip-up and covered with three blankets because Spain at night is like Indiana in the winter. The weather here is very nice but something I never thought about until now is that the casa I’m living in is about a couple hundred years old and has not one single square inch (or whatever conversion they use here) of insulation. I have heard that someone from the states said their coldest winter on record was here in Spain because of how cold the insides of buildings get. Also, Roger informed me that people open their windows to let the cold air out during the winter!
I’ve decided that just because I don’t have internet doesn’t mean that I will not have a working diary/blog for my time here in Spain. Someday I will hopefully post this for all to view. Here it is..