29th May: Exams

I’m trying desperately to find something interesting to relate about the past week. I’ve had two exams since last writing, which is why my life has basically become restricted to the acts of getting up, working, eating, going out for a drink break, watching several episodes of New Girl and going to bed again - where the things I most look forward to during the day are my bowl of cereal in the morning and watching New Girl in bed before going to sleep. It is a sad, sad, existence.

Teaching is going better every time - three out of five of my students are really excelling, and even the youngest two are making steady progress. My exams could have gone worse - especially as I have never felt so unprepared for an exam in my life as I did for my linguistics one on Monday. We had been so poorly informed that we turned up to the exam half an hour early with no idea of what room it would be in or even a vague impression of the content or format of the exam. The material I’d had to learn (over just one weekend, might I add, since we’d only just been told where to obtain the notes) had been over seventy pages of A4 print-outs. I’d managed to compress it to forty-seven hand-written ones, and might as well have painted the whole lot yellow for the amount of things I’d had to highlight.

When we got into the lecture hall, we were somehow the last there and had to be allocated seats by the professor. Then, a register was taken (horrendous pronunciation of my name, obviously) and we were each given a tiny slip of paper with four essay questions on it - all of which we had to answer. Of all the seventy pages I had revised, I have no idea how two of the four questions seemed to have no relevance to any of them.

Luckily I am now free until my next and final exam on Monday, Methodology of Translation. Typically, this is the one I’m least worried about and the one for which I have the most time to revise - not that I’m not enjoying the extra bit of breathing space. Not only that, but I have other things to organise in the meantime, not the least of which is arranging an internship position I’ve been deliberating over for more than two weeks now. It hasn’t got a mention before now in this blog as it has all seemed fairly unlikely to actually come off - but since my days are now punctuated with optimistic email checks, I think I should explain a bit about it. 

I’d started sending out emails enquiring for possible internships several months ago, right after I’d secured the volunteering job in Peru. The unforeseen snag in my plan, of course, was that very few companies are willing to take on an intern who can only work up until the beginning of August. I’d almost given up the search when I had an email through from my university in Exeter, congratulating me on securing an internship with a global company specialising in renewable energy.

I was fairly confused by this email, to say the least - since I knew for certain that I hadn’t made any form of application or even sent an email to this company. It turned out they’d been looking for an intern and had a connection with my university - and had subsequently picked me out amongst all the competition. Obviously this is quite an honour, not to mention an amazing opportunity to boost my CV - however, it isn’t without its drawbacks. The internship is in Madrid, so I would have to arrange transport and accommodation in a short period of time. Not only that, but it’s unpaid - and I can’t imagine it’s all that cheap living in the capital. But, on the plus side, I would be working in the Marketing Department, assisting the bosses with big presentations, and they’ve left me free to pick out the dates that suit me. The long and short of it is that we’re still in negotiations.

Outside of the stress of exams and possible internships, we managed to have quite a nice weekend. Our night out on Thursday wasn’t up to its usual standards as it seems everyone in Murcia has locked themselves away with their revision notes and is refusing to come out. Nevertheless, we made up for it on Saturday by travelling to a place called the Fuensanta, a beautiful mountain setting topped by an immaculate white church, offering the best views in the entire city. It was a gorgeous day and we were able to picnic overlooking the bright and endless panorama.

One bizarre event which shouldn’t go unmentioned is what happened when I was revising in the park on Sunday. Now, getting approached by slightly weird and disturbing men is by no means a rarity in Spain, and I could fill this blog with little anecdotes about them - but this one really was something else. A guy, in his mid-thirties, I’d imagine, came up to me and started talking to me - so as usual I acted uninterested in the hope he would get the hint. After ascertaining that he could not pronounce my name (shocker) and saying that yes, I did have a boyfriend, he slowly drifted away. About an hour later, I noticed he was still suspiciously hanging around. The next minute, he was going up to some poor unsuspecting woman, pulling his jeans down and giving the whole park a spectacularly unpleasant view of everything God gave him. Then, the woman walked away and the people went about their business as though nothing had happened. Apparently, either they didn’t find this disturbing behaviour merited the police attention, or they just couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it.

The sad thing is that, apart from that, there’s nothing interesting to report. The new oven has finally arrived; it’s almost the same as the last one except for the fact that it has an extra hob ring and it’s all silver and shiny - and that it works, of course. It’s a sign you’re getting old when you get this excited about the arrival of a new kitchen appliance;  we were actually stroking it and calling it our new baby. On the other hand, we were equally thrilled at discovering the copious amounts of bubble wrap in the packaging, just waiting to be popped - so maybe we’re not that mature after all.

Another slight variation in my otherwise quite honestly monotonous existence was meeting up with my language exchange, José, yesterday evening. He’d been really sweet since my unfortunate blacking out incident, texting me to check I was ok and asking to meet up again (despite me probably giving him the fright of his life the last time). We met at 7.30 and it actually went really well this time; we chatted for two hours before he dropped me back in his car (a rare and exciting luxury these days).

Today I went for my usual Wednesday run before getting stuck in to some more revision. Later on I’ll do some catching up on Skype before meeting up with another new language exchange, Beatriz. Of course, my friends and I will be meeting up for some drinks or a Smoöy this evening, before I tuck up in bed and starting the whole cycle again. 

20th May: I Will Never Say I'm Bored Again

Just when we thought things were getting a little dull around here, a surprise illness and a visit from an ambulance turned things around.

Admittedly, lying on the sofa like a beached whale isn’t exactly how I envisaged my weekend, and I’m not particularly thrilled about missing the beach party I paid fifteen euros for. I’m on iron tablets to get my strength up (since my mum, who suffers from anaemia, has recognised the same symptoms in me) and am currently confined to my flat in hope of a speedy recovery.

Just to prove a point, I’ll make a mention of the dullness of last week. You know it’s a sign of boredom and/or lack of sleep when the class has to be paused so the lecturer can make you a cup of coffee - as happened to me on Tuesday. I think the sudden increase in workload is catching up on me; I’ve even had to succumb to taking power naps this week.

When I got back from German, I just had time to run into Mercadona before Agustina called me to take the measurements for the cooker, which she was finally getting around to ordering. On the plus side, all this time without an oven has proven how versatile microwaves can actually be.

At 3pm I met Ali and Valerie for the final push on our presentation. First I had to nip into the library to get out one of the books we’d used, since I’d somehow lost the page reference we needed to include in the project. As Valerie had been the one to get all the books out, I had to go through the embarrassment of registering with the library five months after arriving at the university here. The library staff couldn’t believe it. And as if I hadn’t been embarrassed enough, when we were sitting working in the canteen, one of my chair legs completely broke, like some kind of bizarre Shallow Hal moment where I am actually, despite appearances, horrendously obese.

On Wednesday the most exciting thing to happen amongst all the revision was my early-evening run. By this time (just after 6pm), I was getting sick of the same four walls so had to get out of the flat, despite the threatening dark clouds looming up ahead. Inevitably, the heavens opened and I got absolutely drenched, but I actually really enjoyed it. There was barely anyone about, and after my long day of sitting around I felt full of energy and completely liberated.

Thursday was the big day - the day we had to perform our linguistics presentation in front of over fifty people. The run-up to it was terrible, as we were the last group to go during the two-hour lecture. Not only that, but they had put the three Erasmus groups at the end, and by the time it got to us there were only fifteen minutes left to the lesson, meaning we had to rush. On the plus side, it did seem to go well, and we even got a few laughs - and at the appropriate moments too.

Methodology wasn’t on that day, leaving me with yet another afternoon stuck in the flat revising. After another much-needed power nap, I headed over to teaching. I do feel sorry for poor Gregorio, who really seems to struggle. He is only six years old, after all - an age at which I remember getting plenty of words wrong in my own language, let alone in a foreign one.

That evening we were finally going on a night out, so my friends came over at 11 to start pre-drinks. We left at about 1.30, when we went to try out a shots bar near to Badulake. Inevitably, we then ended up in Badulake, but only for around half an hour before moving on to Boutique and then to Musik, a cool underground sort of place in the old bull ring. Hearing Garbage played in a club was a nice surprise (and made the place infinitely better than another one of those venues relying on the assumption that Mr Brightside and Don’t Stop Me Now will always go down well with the intoxicated and indoctrinated global public).

In Musik, along with some slightly odd people and a lesbian who wouldn’t leave me alone, who should we bump into but Andy and Felicity, the English teachers. We left with them not long afterwards and ended up at a slightly creepy secret club in one of the backstreets, where we had to knock on the door and be approved before entering. When we left we got shushed by the bouncer for giggling and making too much noise, which might ruin the place’s secrecy. It was all very cult and cool.

On Friday morning, I got up at around 11.30 to go and meet my language exchange, José, for the first time. I was feeling a little worse for wear, having only got in at 6am, but it was nothing I hadn’t been through before. We’d been chatting for around an hour and a half when I suddenly realised something was wrong, and asked him to order the bill whilst I hurried to the toilets to be sick. 

I was walking through the cafe when suddenly my vision went completely black and I collapsed to the floor. When I opened my eyes, a policeman and a policewoman were standing over me, the policeman lifting my legs into the air. They asked me what had happened and called an ambulance straight away. Poor José looked completely at a loss, and when the police started talking about taking me to hospital I knew I had to call someone. I can rely on my friends here for absolutely anything and had no hesitation in calling Alicia, who was there in a flash.

As soon as Alicia got there I assured José I’d be fine and that he could go. I can’t imagine he’d been mentally prepared for this; he will probably never go on a language exchange again, the poor thing. I apologised profusely for destroying his otherwise peaceful morning coffee and said I’d get the bill, but he said he’d already covered it - so not only had he probably had the worst cafe experience of his life, but he’d had to pay for it too. I thought about offering to pay next time but reconsidered as the prospect of having to meet up with such a walking disaster again would probably make him feel even worse.

When the medics arrived, they asked me all my details and got Alicia to write down my name (since they didn’t even know where to begin trying to work out the spelling). Then they helped me onto a wheelchair and took me to the ambulance, where they moved me onto a stretcher and lifted me into the back. A series of tests and questions later, they were telling me that the only thing they could recommend was to eat, drink and sleep. 

As Alicia and I were making our way to the police van which was going to take us to my flat, Lina came running over. Just then I spotted Ali on the bench reading, and Alicia ran over to tell her what was going on. The police man and woman were lovely but I just didn’t have it in me to have a conversation with them on the journey, and left Alicia to do the talking. For some reason, both the police woman and the female medic had complemented me on my nail varnish, as though my pretty nails could be seen as the silver lining to all this. Or maybe they were just trying to take my mind off things. Either way, I guess it was a nice thought. Anyway, fifteen minutes later Alicia was helping me up the stairs to my flat, and Giorgos came running down to meet us. Alicia had called him and he’d run home to find my EHIC card in case I had to go into hospital, so he was probably expecting much worse.

He helped me onto the sofa and gave me glasses of water and juice (for the sugar content, in case my blood sugar was low). No one could understand why it had happened. Not long afterwards, while Giorgos was searching the cupboards for anything he could give me containing sugar or salt, Ali and Lina arrived as well. It felt as though I might as well be in hospital with everyone sitting around me like it was visiting time. Everyone was so lovely, fetching me everything I could possibly need. Lina and Alicia even went to the chinos and bought me more juice, sweets and chocolate (for medical reasons, and just to cheer me up).

They stayed for over an hour before I told them I should probably try and get some sleep. The rest of the day is a bit of a blur; I spent most of it trying, and failing, to be sick, because I knew that that was what I needed to do. I managed to get in touch with my mum, who said the blackout sounded exactly the same as what she used to experience before she was diagnosed with anaemia. Giorgos brought me back some iron tablets to see if they would help.

Bedtime came as a huge relief, but it was far from the rest I’d hoped for. The pain in my stomach was so unbearable I was still wide awake when Giorgos came in at around 5.30. It was two hours later when I finally managed to get some sleep, waking up again at 12.30. By this stage I was feeling a little better; the pain in my stomach had gone and I no longer felt like I needed to vomit. After a bit of breakfast and a shower I still felt weak and had to accept that it would be stupid to go to the beach party that evening, especially as the beach was so remote and had no mobile phone signal.

I’m glad I did decide to sit tight and recover because even a quick walk down to the shops early that evening seemed exhausting. Alicia phoned at just after 9 from the beach party to check I was ok, and it turned out the beach party hadn’t been a beach party at all; as soon as everyone got off the coach, the police arrived and disbanded the entire thing. They’d ended up driving around for an hour trying to find a spot for the barbecue and the party, before eventually stopping at the house of one of the friends of the organisers. It sounded like a disaster.

The next day all I did was stay in and watch endless episodes of Game of Thrones and Сверхъестественное, which I’m definitely counting as some kind of language revision. By the evening I was sick of the same four walls and met my friends for a Smoöy - tragically, the most exciting outing of my weekend. At least the worst was over and I could start the new week afresh, ready for my exam on Thursday.

13th May: Awkward Wednesdays and Awkward People

It’s Monday and the beginning of my last full week at university here in Spain. They don’t have study leave here, meaning we have classes right up until next Wednesday, the day before my first exam.

There isn’t much to tell about the rest of last week; with exams suddenly so close, we all spent most of our time working on end-of-term projects and revision notes. The only way I can describe Wednesday is as a series of awkward events. First, I had an uncomfortable supermarket encounter which started off by kissing on the wrong cheeks, and which we then couldn’t seem to finish. I’d finally escaped and was at the check-out when who should pop up behind me again? Good grief.

The second awkward event occurred when I went to the university copy shop to collect the class linguistic notes and scan the photo booth picture from SOS Festival. Not only did I hold up the entire queue (which, by the way, was really long) waiting for the guy to find some notes which turned out to be in the other copy shop, but he spent about five minutes scanning the embarrassing photo of my friends and me pulling ridiculous faces, which he then put on the screen in front of everyone for me to confirm it was the right thing. I was mortified.

We did at least have a nice evening, and we even tried out the cool terrace bar El Perro Azul, which is built like a garden terrace with sofas and fake grass. We met up with two English people who Alicia had met a few weeks before, Andy and Felicity. They’re out here teaching English on TEFL (Teach English as a Foreign Language) contracts, so it was interesting to find out about their experiences. I’ve definitely been put off the idea of ever doing a TEFL course; they do get the freedom to live in a different place every year of their lives, but there’s no job stability and the pay is awful. 

Anyway, the final embarrassing incident occurred that evening on the walk back with Andy, which I tried to keep from awkward silences but probably ended up making worse with some really bizarre comments, beginning with, “So... You’ve met the gang then.” I’ve never referred to my friends as ‘the gang’ in my life before, and I never intend to again. Once again we didn’t know how to end the conversation, leaving Andy in the middle of the road while we finished an inconsequential chat about running.

Thursday was, to my relief, a more normal day, with the only annoyance being my encounter with the fat lady from upstairs, who wanted me to bring her shopping up the four flights of stairs to her flat - something which is becoming an almost daily occurrence now. My friends say that maybe if she actually bothered to bring up her shopping herself, she wouldn’t be so fat. They have a point.

Teaching was good again that day as I’d prepared a decent amount of material and I taught both the kids separately. To help him with his communication vocabulary, I decided to play Pairs with Gregorio, which was an absolute hit. The stickers as a form of reward are also an absolutely amazing bribery tool.

On Friday nothing special was going on until the evening, when we met at Lina and Alicia’s flat for pre-drinks before Badulake, which was holding a 1 euro cocktail night. As usual, we got a bit carried away and didn’t end up leaving their flat until 12.45 (which is a bit of an issue when the offers always end at 1). We were so convinced we were going to miss out we actually ran the last stretch. And a note to the Spanish people who were shouting, “Go, Forest, go!”: I think you could do with watching that film again actually in English.

On Saturday we were up at the crack of 10 o’clock to get a bus to the beach at Los Alcazares. Typically, after all the perfect weather we’d had that week, it turned cool and cloudy all weekend. We did get a bit of sunshine that day but by the time it got to 5 o’clock it was well and truly grey and we were all ready to go back.

When we got back to Murcia at 7.30, we went our separate ways to have showers and get ready, then met up at 9 for tapas. For a change, we decided to try somewhere we hadn’t been and ended up at an interesting restaurant with menus from Spain, France and Morocco. After our meals we called it a night; it was going to be a long day of work the next day.

Sunday was dull, just as expected - and dull in all senses of the word, since the weather was pretty disappointing too. On the plus side, it was a good opportunity to get some work done and we didn’t stop until I went over to Lina and Alicia’s in the evening. It was a sort of enforced break really, since there was no sign of a replacement arriving for my broken oven and I needed to go round and cook. It was definitely nice to get a change of scene and to see the others after my boring day though.

Today I went for my usual run before my linguistics class, then met up with Ali and Valerie to do more work on our linguistics project - that is, put it into presentation form. It feels like we’re spending half our lives doing the thing and I can’t wait until it’s all over on Thursday, stressful though it’s going to be to get it done in time. I’m beginning to think that Valerie was a bit justified in getting so stressed about it and that maybe Ali and I shouldn’t have teased her so much with suggestions of presenting it in the form of interpretive dance or under the influence of alcohol. The other day, we were working in the morning and I said, as a joke, that I needed something stronger than a coffee. Valerie nearly fell off her chair in horror. 

Anyway, we spent the afternoon doing our linguistics work yet again, a fact that was only partly improved by our choice of workspace, Smöoy; the flavour of the week is passionfruit. The new Smöoy man (not Pablo, the original and favourite of the Smöoy workers, to whom we have quite a strong attachment) has started to recognise us now too and was sharing our excitement at the number of points we have left to fill out on our loyalty cards before our next prize: half a litre of Smöoy with three pots of toppings. I do realise how sad this makes our lives appear.

After meeting Ali and Valerie (or Val, as I like to call her), I went to teach. I only had to teach the two boys that day since Sergio was at football, but both the classes went well. I’ve managed to develop a bit of banter with Roberto now and he wanted to show me videos of the new martial art he’s taken up. Not only that, but my new method with Guille - learning ten words as quickly as possible to earn a sticker - is working wonders; he’s like a different kid. At the end, the mother, Mariluz, told me Sergio got a 9.9 in his latest English exam; 10 is the best possible so she’s thrilled.

I got back to the flat to a huge list of replies to my intercambio advertisement I’d put on tusclasesparticulares.com to try and find a language exchange. I’d mainly wanted one for Russian but, naturally, I’d only had replies for Spanish. Some of the responses were more than a little creepy, two of which I’m going to have to share. The first one is as follows:

“Hola Georgie: Soy profesor de Primaria en un colegio de Granada y me planeo ir a San Pedro del Pinatar del 28 de mayo al 2 de junio. Si te animas a venir a la playa unos días conmigo para descansar y hacer intercambio, avísame. Y si conoces más "guiris" que quieran hacer turismo con alojamiento gratuito, también están invitados a mi apartamento en "Lo Pagan". Sé que suena "crazy" pero merece la pena. Chao”

This basically translates as: 

“Hello Georgie: I’m a primary school teacher at a school in Granada and I’m planning to go to San Pedro del Pinatar from 28th May to 2nd June. If you’d like to come to the beach with me for a few days to relax and do an exchange, let me know. And if you know more “foreigners” who want to travel with free accommodation, they’re also invited to my apartment in “Lo Pagan”. I know it sounds “crazy” but it’s worth it. Ciao.”

Naturally I am taking him up on his offer, giving up on this university lark and becoming a professional escort. 

The second bizarre reply, from a guy called Juan, was short but just as worrying:

“Estoy interesado/a... en este intercambio.” Since ‘o’ indicates a male speaker and ‘a’ a female one, I can only assume that this person is seriously confused and could possibly benefit from medical consultation. 

Unfortunately these peculiar responses were the most exciting thing that happened to me all day, which ended with a sad little microwave meal (still no word from the landlady) and a few drinks in the bar on the corner. Let’s hope the week improves from here.

7th May: SOS 4.8 Festival

Once again I’ve been so busy living my life I haven’t had time to write about it. With exams looming, combined with the pressure of only having seven more weeks to enjoy Spain, things have been pretty hectic.

Last Thursday, aside from being my mum’s fiftieth birthday, was an important day for me too - so much so that, as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t fly back to England to celebrate with my family. Instead, I’d sent a card and Hunter wellies in the post (which, typically, didn’t arrive on time). In between classes I tried phoning my mum and even emailing my dad to get them on Skype, but nothing seemed to be going through. 

At 4pm I had to present my end-of-year group project for Methodology of Translation. We were presenting our analysis of the translation and dubbing we had done for a ten-minute extract of a BBC Food cookery programme (the one I transcribed a few weeks ago), explaining the difficulties we’d encountered and how we’d dealt with them. It all seemed to go really well; I was pleased with my Spanish and even managed to chip in a few times to answer questions from the lecturer. At the end of the presentation we showed the dubbed-over video we’d made, using the voices of two of the girls from my group. It went down a storm.

After the lecture I had teaching as usual, which was demanding that day as the two kids wanted to go in together - meaning coming up with twice the material to keep them interested, and finding things to suit both ages. Once back at the flat I tried ringing my mum again but since there was still no answer I decided to have my dinner before trying again. Just as I was finishing I had a text from my mum and one from my cousin. Taking this as a positive sign, I rang her straight away and, after one broken up call moved onto the balcony where we managed to have a proper conversation.

When she told me her card and present hadn’t come I felt awful; not only had I not been there, but she hadn’t had anything from me at all. I hated to think of her having to celebrate her fiftieth without either me or Mitch (who’s now working in Rhodes until November) and wished I could be there with her. I was glad to hear her still sounding so cheerful and to find out that my dad had pulled out all the stops to give her a wonderful day, finishing with a surprise trip to a beautiful restaurant with the rest of the family.

That evening, the girls and I met up at the cathedral to go together to the inauguration of SOS 4.8 Festival, which we’d had tickets for for months. Admittedly, it was quite cold to be standing around outside and we were all pretty exhausted from our busy weeks, but we stayed for a couple of bands before going our separate ways.

The next day I woke up early to go for a run and catch up on the week’s work. I’m glad I did because the day was getting hot even then. In the afternoon we met up to try and plan our summer trip around the north of Spain, by the end of which we had a rough outline but still didn’t have anything booked. It was all looking a lot more expensive and complicated than originally expected...

Our planning session was cut short by the fact I had a mock exam for General Translation at 4 o’clock. On the plus side, the exam didn’t last the full two hours so I was back at the flat by 5.30, giving me time for a to have quick power nap and some dinner and to get ready to go out.

I met the others at La Cuba, the paella restaurant by the Bull Ring, since we’d wanted to go together for ages and hadn’t been for a group meal out just the five of us for a while. By the time we’d finished it had gone 10, so we had a few drinks outside before heading to SOS. 

Poor Alicia, who had been feeling ill the day before so hadn’t come with us to the inauguration, where we’d got our wristbands, had to queue up separately to get hers. She was gone nearly an hour while we were watching The XX who, luckily, weren’t all that exciting anyway. After we were happily reunited we all made our way to the front in time for Bloc Party, that night’s headlining act.

I didn’t know what to expect of Bloc Party, who I’d never seen live before, but I was really impressed. Obviously I knew a lot of their songs but I hadn’t expected them to be so good live and to be so engaged with the crowd (despite the mispronunciation of ‘Murcia’ and the failed assumption that the Spanish would know what “Are you having a laugh?” means). Not only that, but Ali and I had somehow managed to get ourselves right to the front and had an amazing view. I even got given Bloc Party’s set list by one of the bouncers!

I’d never even heard of the next band, Crystal Fighters, but they were amazing.  The funny thing was that the photographer seemed to take a liking to Ali and me and kept taking our photo, despite us having no idea what we were going to see. At one point he asked, “Are you here to see Crystal Fighters?” to which I replied, “Yes, of course!” as though this were self-explanatory. Then he wanted us to shout “Crystal Fighters!” for the photo, which was particularly embarrassing since not only did we not know who on earth this band was, but it took us about three attempts to actually figure out that this is what he wanted. I felt like a bit of a fraud, as though actual fans should be having their photos taken instead of us posers.

Anyway, when the singer first came on stage with hair like Jesus, a bizarre black headscarf and looking like he’d raided his grandmother’s wardrobe in a black skirt and cream crochet top, I was skeptical to say the least. But as soon as they started to play, my skepticism disappeared; they were brilliant! We found ourselves singing along to all the songs though we’d never heard them before. By the time they’d finished their set it was about 4am so we decided we’d had enough for the night. We needed to get some sleep if we were going to do it all again the next day.

We spent Saturday lazing around in Plaza Santo Domingo, finally enjoying the return of the summer sunshine. Naturally this was also an excuse for another Smöoy.  When we’d finally managed to drag ourselves away from the sunny square, we went our separate ways to have dinner and get ready, before meeting again at Annalisa’s just after 7. Even at that time, the sun was still hot, and I was almost out of breath by the time I’d walked all the way to Annalisa’s in my black tights and leather jacket.

Sitting on Annalisa’s balcony listening to music, chatting and drinking sangría was the perfect way to spend the summer evening. At around 10 we made our way to the festival, which was already packed ready for the performances from M83 and Justice. On our way in we met a big group of Irish people, who had come especially for the festival (apparently it’s quite famous) and were really excited to find other English speakers; we ended up having a massive group photo.

Ali and I got straight to the front again and got all the benefits of the front row yet again - that is, free water bottles, getting photos taken, making front row friends. Everything seems more exciting at the front, even though the acts weren’t as good that night. There wasn’t really anything to watch on stage, as M83 use a lot of pre-programmed sounds and synthesizers and Justice are just a couple of DJs. They did play their hits though, which everyone went mental for, and there were some really good parts of both the sets (my favourite being, possibly, the random but brilliant remix of ‘Rasputin’ by Boney M. Since everyone here already thinks I’m Russian, I feel I might as well live up to the stereotype. I should mention that I got taken for a Russian twice again the other day - once by the Turk in Mariano Rojas and again walking to the cathedral the next day, by someone who actually came up to me and asked me, in Russian, if I spoke the language. This is getting really bizarre).

When Justice had finished, Annalisa decided to go back since she wasn’t feeling too good, but the rest of us stayed to check out some of the other stages. We found an amazing DJ who was playing such classics as ‘Internet Friends’ by Knife Party and ‘I think I like it’ by Fake Blood as well as all your usual electro/house stuff. I got ridiculously excited. At one point a trilby hat flew my way, seemingly straight from the sky, which I obviously then claimed as my own for the rest of the night. We finished off with an obligatory trip to the onsite vintage photo booth and went home at around 5.

As you might expect, half of Sunday was spent in bed, before I decided to get out and enjoy the sun in the early afternoon. It was scorching by this time, and I kept having to move between sun and shade. The others were ready to meet up by around 3, so we met in Smöoy square to tomar el sol for a while. After the most amazing mango frozen yoghurt/orange ice drink ever, we went over to the Red Bull Tour Bus, a massive blue double-decker bus with a stage on top, where SOS bands were performing in the square. 

At 5pm, reluctant as we were, Ali and I had to meet Valerie to do our linguistics work. We went straight to my flat and were working on it for two and a half hours solid, having to change practically the whole thing to make it work as a complete project as opposed to three parts randomly stuck together. By the end we still hadn’t finished and agreed to meet up again the following week to get it done.

After I’d made myself some dinner it was nearly time to go out again, as the girls and I were meeting at Ibaros at 9. As is usually the case after we’ve had a night out, we didn’t end up staying for long before admitting defeat and going home to bed. 

The next morning I made an early start and went for a run, but even at 10.30 the sun was already scorching. I spent the rest of the morning on work before leaving the flat at around 2pm to make the most of the afternoon sunshine, sitting in the park by El Corte Inglés, which is right next to where I teach. By this stage, the sun was so hot that, as much as I wanted to sit out in it, had to keep switching between sun and shade to avoid overheating.

Teaching went quite quickly that day as a lot of Roberto’s lesson was spent talking about cultural aspects specific to the UK, since he might be going to Ireland over the summer. He found some of our little habits hilarious - our tendency to stand in queues, our aversion to physical contact and aspects of etiquette such as not spitting in public (which I’d taken to be self-explanatory). Even Guille’s lesson seemed shorter that day as he had some school work to go over. Marliuz said he’s not doing as well as the other two, which I’m not at all surprised at, so I need to start making the classes more focussed.

On the way back from teaching I stopped off at Druni and Mercadona, so it was nearly 8.30 by the time I got back to my flat. My parents were already waiting for me on Skype so I multitasked by cooking and eating at the same time as talking to them. We hadn’t spoken for ages so we had plenty to catch up on, and it was nearly 10 when we eventually ended the call, as I had to talk to my General Translation group on Skype to do a Spanish to English translation. At close to midnight we’d finally put the finishing touches to the article and I could finally settle down to some Vampire Diaries.

Today was another early start as I had German at 9 - and this time the lecturer was even there on time. Isabel wasn’t, though, so it was still 9.45 before we got started - and even then, all we covered all lesson was an outline of the German political system, and the rest was spent chatting. We have to finish reading the few pages on the topic for next week, which will be our last lesson.

After German I sat in Plaza Santo Domingo for a while before the heat got too much and I had to admit defeat and go indoors. Stopping off at Mercadona on the way to get a few interesting ingredients for the week, I got back at around 12.30, giving me time to get a few things done before meeting Ali back in Santo Domingo at 3.

Nearly three hours later we’d got close to a final version of our linguistics project, which we now just need to fine-tune before converting it into a presentation (which hopefully won’t take nearly as long). Then I made my way to teaching, stopping off in Plaza Romeo to read for a minutes since I was a little early. I was engrossed in the morbidly fascinating misogynistic crap that is Cincuenta sombras de Grey when who should appear but my German lecturer, possibly one of the worst people who could catch you off-guard when you’re reading an X-rated novel as a form of Spanish practice. There was an awkward moment when we were unsure of the etiquette of the greeting - was it a kiss on both cheeks situation, or more of a smile and keep your distance one? I decided I’d rather be over-cautious than over-friendly, which could look a little weird. Luckily I managed to regain composure pretty quickly and we had quite a nice half-Spanish, half-German conversation. I hardly even noticed when we switched language halfway through...

Teaching was much better this week since I was teaching them individually and they both had homework to do. However, I have to say that Gregorio’s homework seems ridiculous as not only is the vocabulary irrelevant and far too difficult for a six-year-old, but it’s riddled with mistakes and ambiguities. No wonder people struggle with foreign languages here. The previous sheet had asked him to identify individual vs. collective transport (and claimed aeroplanes went in the ‘individual transport category), and this week’s wanted him to label forms of verbal and non verbal communication (with gap-fill sentences including ‘It is a oral communication’). I ended up staying an extra fifteen minutes just to finish the sheet with him, but I’m convinced he didn’t really have any idea what was going on. 

When I eventually got back from teaching, after bumping into Lina on the way, I cooked myself some dinner and was just getting ready to go out again when I heard the rattling of the front door latch being opened - Giorgos was back from Madrid and Paris! We had a lot to catch up on so I stayed chatting to him until it was time for me to go; my friends and I were meeting at a new gluten-free ice cream bar by the cathedral.

After trying out some caipirinha-flavoured ice creams dipped in white chocolate, we decided that the place was nice but not all that Ali had hyped it up to be (bless her, you can understand why, it being the first gluten-free ice cream place in Murcia), so we moved on to a bar. We only stayed for one drink but it was enough just to be outside in the warm summer’s air.

2nd May: Another visit from another special person

I blinked and somehow its 2^nd May. I can’t believe I’ve only got two months left in Spain! I hate the idea of leaving this place. The only thing pulling me back home is the thought of the family and friends I’ve got there - but I’ve even had visits from them to stop me getting homesick.

The latest visit was from my friend Louise, who I’ve known since I was born. In fact, we’re pretty sure we were having chats from inside our mum’s bellies when they used to see each other at mother and toddler. Anyway, when we see each other now it’s like we’ve never been apart (and actually, like we’ve never grown up either). So when she decided to come for a spontaneous visit this weekend, I was unbelievably excited.

I was just coming down the ramp from the bus stop when she came through arrivals on Saturday evening, and we squealed and ran to meet each other. We had so much to catch up on, we chatted constantly whilst we grabbed drinks in a cafe, waited for the bus and all the way to Murcia. 

When we arrived at the other end, we popped into the supermarket to get supplies for the next day (after I’d explained, to Lou’s horror, that everything would be closed) When we got to my flat, Giorgos and all the Greeks were all asleep, in true Greek style, leaving Lou and me to our own devices to get showered and ready to go out. When Giorgos eventually woke up, I introduced him to Lou and they seemed to get on well.

It was 10 o’clock before we made it out to dinner, at a cute Italian place not far from my flat. After that we met up with Annalisa and Lina, who were the only ones around, for a few drinks, calling it a night at 2.30 when La Colmena turned on its lights and started chucking everyone out.

We woke up the next day to the most horrendous rain I’ve experienced the entire time I’ve been in Spain. Finally braving it out the house at midday, we made a dash to Smoöy, which Lou was desperate to try after reading about it so much in this blog. When we got back, Giorgos and I were chatting and discussing our broken oven and how we should wait a few days before informing the landlady, when who should appear but Agustina herself. This woman has the worst timing in the world; last time she gave us a surprise visit, I was in my pyjamas at 3 in the afternoon; this time, we had six people living illegally in our three-person flat.

Not only had she chosen the most inopportune moment to visit, but she wanted to collect two months’ rent as well as over 200 euros-worth of bills, which she’d suddenly decided to spring on us. After she’d gone through these with us, she took a look at the hob, which is dying a slow and painful death, and the oven, which doesn’t seem to have any life left in it at all. Needless to say, she couldn’t fix it, and nor could our helpful elderly neighbour Carmen, whom I was asked to fetch. The whole thing was fairly bizarre and uncomfortable - fixing the hob in my obscenely dirty kitchen with my English friend and three Greeks hiding out in the bedroom. 

Eventually Agustina agreed to make a call for someone to come and look at the oven and, since Lou and I had got completely drenched on our Smoöy run, we decided to spend the rest of the day curled up inside watching films. We even had dinner in, before we decided we probably should make some kind of an effort to do something whilst there was an ebb in the rain, and popped out for a few drinks.

The next day the sun finally decided to emerge, and we whiled away the hours browsing the little boutiques and high street stores, trying to find Lou a dress for an upcoming family wedding. We got back to the flat just after 3.30 - just time for a quick nap before I had to go and teach.

Teaching went really well that day. I had the perfect resources and managed to keep all three students fully engaged for their our each. Afterwards, Mariluz, the mother, approached me with a warm smile, telling me how pleased she was with how things were going. Apparently, Sergio is now top of his class, and the other day he knew something none of the other students did. When asked why he knew it, he said, “My English tutor taught me.” I’m so proud!

That evening all the girls were back, so we met up for tapas by the cathedral. In hindsight, tapas probably wasn’t the best thing for Lou, the world’s fussiest eater, but she’d said she wanted to try it and it did seem a shame for her to leave Spain without having experienced it. We had a good night anyway, and everyone seemed to get on really well. The night ended in a Smoöy, naturally.

Tuesday was our last full day together, so since the weather was stormy again we decided to go to Nueva Condomina. I was meant to have a German lecture so got up at 7.45, only to receive a text to say it was cancelled yet again. Not wanting to disturb Lou, I snuggled up on the sofa to get a bit more sleep. Two hours later I was being gently shaken awake. Apparently, the first thing she’d seen was my dark hair and, thinking I was at a lecture and not associating me with this hair colour, almost had the fright of her life.

As we were walking down Gran Vía, the sun came out and I started to regret my decision to spend the day indoors; but by the time we got to the shopping centre, not only was it pouring with rain, but there was thunder and lightning as well. Wandering around an indoor shopping centre definitely seemed the best way to pass the day.

Luckily, when we were on our way back, not only did the tram arrive straight away, but the rain stopped just in time for us to walk back from Plaza Circular. On our way we stopped off to buy food and alcohol for that evening, before heading back to the flat and watching half a film before I had to go to teaching.

When I got back, everything got a bit hectic. During her previous surprise visit in which my chaotic landlady had asked for 500-odd euros of bills from each of us, she’d said she would come round that day to collect them. Giorgos had left me his money to give to her since he’s gone away to Paris and Madrid with his friends for a week. So, that meant I had no choice but to stay in and wait for her.

She’d said 7.15 so I wasn’t surprised when an hour later she hadn’t arrived. I decided to get on with cooking the dinner as there was no telling what time she would eventually turn up. This was complicated by the fact that the oven was completely failing to turn on, and Lou had bought a pizza which couldn’t be cooked any other way. I couldn’t send her out to order a pizza on her own, her knowledge of Spanish being restricted to “hola”, “señor” and “gracias”, but neither could I leave her to sort things out with my landlady, who doesn’t speak any English either. So, there was nothing for it but to order a pizza delivery - from the Dominos which is literally at the end of the road. I’m surprised the delivery guy didn’t laugh in our faces.

Naturally, just as dinner was served, everything started kicking off. My dad wanted a Skype chat, and then, just as I was finishing, who should arrive but my landlady. And typically, this was the time she decided to launch into a big chat about spring week and my Easter holidays. It was nice of her to be so friendly, but I really didn’t want to be having that conversation at that moment.

After our chaotic meal, Lou and I settled down to watch the end of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and to wait for responses from my friends, who were meant to be coming round for pre-drinks. At 11.30 everyone started to arrive (except poor Ali, who’d got herself a sore throat from the Beyonce concert) and we stayed at mine until around 2.30. We went straight to Badulake, of course, but it wasn’t long before I had to send Annalisa home in a taxi, by which stage everyone was ready to move on to Boutique. My bouncer friend let me straight in but I was stranded on my own for a few minutes anyway whilst the others got to the front of the queue - and even then, he wouldn’t let Alicia in without ID. So, there was nothing for it but to go to Mariano Rojas. 

As soon as we got there we noticed how quiet it was. We still have no idea why it was so dead, but at any rate we tried quite a few clubs before finding one that had a half-decent amount of people in it. It wasn’t until we got to the toilets, which were unisex, that we realised we’d landed ourselves in some sort of underground gay bar - a fact that was only confirmed by the four men emerging, sniffing, from a cubicle one after the other. When we came out onto the dance floor it suddenly became glaringly obvious - the girls with short, spiky hair; the sheer number of well-dressed guys (well, proportionally, that is - the place was still pretty empty). We asked the barman what time it would get busy, to which he replied, “In a couple of hours.” Since in “a couple of hours” it would be approaching 7am, I was highly doubtful.

Lou and I decided the night probably wasn’t going to improve so got into a taxi to go back to mine. We were just cruising along Gran Vía when it happened to occur to me that it would be a good idea to get my keys out ready - and I’m so glad I did. My keys were gone.

In a panic, we emptied my entire bag, but to no avail. There was only one thing I could think to do; we stopped the taxi, paid the driver and ran to Badulake, praying it would still be open. When we got there, it was deserted; only the bocadillo man was in sight. Beginning to despair, Lou and I banged on the door of the bar. Finally, the bouncer opened it; I explained and he let us straight in. And there, on the side, was my pink lanyard, Frank the turtle keyring and all. I have never been so glad to see him.

We couldn’t believe how lucky we’d been to find my keys - or even that I’d lost them at all (I’d never lost a set of keys in my life). The only thing we can think is that they got attached to my purse and fell out of my bag when I bought a drink. Anyway, however it had happened, they were safely in my hands now and we could get back into my flat, safe and sound.

The next day we had a lazy morning and didn’t leave the flat until gone lunch time. It was a beautiful day and I wanted to take Lou to Plaza de las flores for lunch, but when we got there it was packed and there was nothing on any of the menus that Lou actually liked. After that I decided to take her to the cathedral square, as there are a few cafes there so she had more chance of finding something on the menu she might like. Fortunately, we managed to find a place straight away - a place I’ve been to quite a few times now with various visitors.

After lunch we just had a couple more hours before we needed to think about getting to the bus station, which we spent sitting in the sun in Plaza Santo Domingo. At just after 5 we met the girls for one last Smoöy before collecting Lou’s suitcase and heading to the bus station.

We made it just in time, with ten minutes for Lou to get settled on the coach before leaving. We’d miss each other but in just two months we’ll be together again, like we were never apart.