Update! Strictly Positive

So! As a foreign exchange student, I have had the chance to implore my fiercely aggressive positive attitude almost every single day. (Like right then, when I didn't know if 'everyday' was one word or not, I fought off the climbing anger and was excited to use 'every single day' instead. Isn't life FUN?
Here are some quick--just kidding, elaborating is one of my favorite things to do. You'll thank me, World, when there's an apocalypse and the new alien race knows a bit about our mundane human thoughts--updates that will be STRICTLY POSITIVE because complaining is bad. Take a look:

I dream in Spanish. I don't always understand what my dreams are saying in Spanish, but at least it's Spanish. I feel like my mind is playing a trick on me, letting my subconscious know that I speak so much more than I think, dangling it just out of use. I also can think in Spanish if I force myself to, but it makes my mind a significantly boring place. I understand songs and jokes now, which is a major accomplishment. I understand everything, after three months, but I don't comprehend it in a conversational tone. For example, if you're talking with a person I can get that there's a woman named Sandra who bought a green dress at this store next to this landmark, but it doesn't read out in my mind like "Oh! The other day Sandra and I were at Berkley's on Serrano..." Conversations with me are a task, depending on the time of the day and the place. If I'm tired, or if I've been speaking consistently for three hours, my grammar does not have well at. When I'm in school or speaking with friends my language skills go down. However, on the couch, relaxed, casually chatting with my liason and her son, my Spanish is almost flawless. I think I've figured out every verb tense.

Thanksgiving in a foreign country! After days of calling it the wrong thing, a Spanish friend was nice enough to point out that it's actually Acción de Gracias not Día de Gracias. This is a positive thing because I looooove it when people correct my language. For the holiday (which I have realized is the most stupid and racist thing in the world) I bought a twenty Euro pumpkin pie from the American store here for my host family. This comes out to about twenty-six Dollars. Story of my Life. The Saturday after, we nifty AFS kids in Madrid planned a party with all of us from around the world. It was fun, I got to wear my heels for the first time in Spain, and I managed to transport large yogurt containers full of Mashed Potatoes, two cans of Cranberry Sauce, and salad for twenty people on the metro. Yay for memories.

I live IN Madrid. Not twenty minutes outside, not on the outskirts, IN the city. Like, walk outside and there are skyscrapers. A major Metro stop. A tourist attraction. A 300 Euro restaurant and a famous hotel. The area I live in is like the West Village of New York, and is a really nice residential zone. (More on comparing Madrid to the Sacred Land later.)

I have had an eye-opening experience about the hidden American Mentality. It all started when, for whatever reason, I was being a typical teen and making fun of Canada with my friends. They were confused, because I kept on refering to my country as "America" instead of "The United States," which is what America is always called here. Somehow I explained to them that we never say the U.S.A. in America, and that, to me and the countries surrounding us, we are the America. My friends did not agree with me. I said that someone in Mexico or Canada would not consider themselves 'American.' My friends said that, qué sí! a South American person is from America, no? This is when I kind of started to see my faults, but I kept on fighting, intent on being right. I explained that for me SA and NA are two different continents, so that is also a different way of distinguishing us. In Spain, the western side of the world is all one thing. We went around the school and asked our South American friends if they were Americans. To my extreme disbelief, they responded, que sí! and moved on. I finally asked my friend from Canada here with AFS (really, America! Canadians aren't so bad! Not everything on South Park in true!) if she would identify herself as an American. She blushed, looked away, and said that yes, of course she would. She explained to me that only United Stateons have this idea that only we are America. That is one of the reasons the rest of the world thinks my country is so stuck up and self centered. I went through my week in a daze, unable to overcome this incredible shock as I realized just how true some stereotypes are. This is on the positive list because I'm here on this journey to experience theses types of things.

Watching the Presidential elections from another country. The day after in school everyone came up to me excitidly and said "Vivian! Obama won!" I just nodded and smiled with them. I think they hoped they'd each be the first one to tell me. (Like I didn't stay up until four in the morning to see the results and blow off my homework the next day to research more in-depth analyzations. Pff.)

THE OTHER DAY A NATIVE CAME UP TO ME AND ASKED ME FOR DIRECTIONS. I WAS ALBE TO GIVE THEM TO HER. IN SPANISH. ACCOMPLISHMENTS!!!!!!!!

I have a few teachers who are really really nice to me. The other day my Geo professor came up to me while we were taking a test that counts for most of our grade, saw that I was struggling, and said "YOU TAKE HOME AND DO IN ENGLISH, OKEY? YOU THINK THAT BE BETTER?" I responded "yes." "OKEY. BUT YOU NO LOOK AT BOOK OR NOTES, YES?" Of course not ;)

I enjoy writing this blog. I know how much I relied on them when I was little and foreign exchange was a dream for years later, and how much they assisted me when I was pre-departure. It helps me get my thoughts together in a way that my private journal can't, and I like to trick myself into believing that other people read what I say, too. (Hey reader. Yeah. You.) I look forward to updating, even though it means English, but I see, from looking back, that I have a lot of things that I'm actually happy to relive as I document.

American Ambassador to Libya Christopher Stevens was an AFS student to Spain in his high school years. He was brutally killed while serving in Libya on 9/11. Nationally renond actress Gwyneth Paltrow went to Spain for the year when she was blond and 15, the same age as I am now. She married Chris Martin, lead singer of the band Coldplay and had the courage to name her child Apple. She speaks Spanish perfectly, learning while she was here. In what direction is my life going?

Pictures are coming soon!

The Three Stages of Exchange

Dear Future Exchangers, please please please try and listen during the AFS orientations. They do actually offer some helpful advice.

I remember, not too long ago, lounging in my chair, freaking out about what my monthly budget would be as I excitedly planned which host family gifts I would stuff into my suitcase, when a lady in a neon colored AFS tshirt lectured me about something called the 'three stages of exchange.' I toned in for a little bit, got the general gist, then went back to daydreaming with my fellow silly, ignorant, sweetly oblivious students awaiting departure. Basically, the lady said something like this: "so, you'll be really upset in November. And the holidays will be hard. But I promise! It'll get better!" I just looked at her and thought "yeah, yeah, sure. My exchange is going to be perfect. I've got it all planned out. Don't you worry about me." as I innocently imagined that sticks full of honey for my new family would survive a 4,000 mile journey across the ocean.

Now, thanks to this awesome recourse afswiki.org I have been able to refresh myself as to what the volunteer said. It is all so true.

Stage One:OMG I'm in another country! Finally! I've waited and waited, and I did this extremely long application all for This. Moment. Right. Now!
This is called "the Honeymoon Phase," named after that post-wedding fantasy vacation. Everything is great. You think that as you try your first churro, or you visit the Prado Museum, you are learning about culture. Each day is new and exciting. You just met your Host Family, there's a rainbow in the sky, you're hopeful that your year, or your marriage, will be great.
Hahahahaaha, ohh, me oh myah, I was so stupid. We all were. Marriage is a commitment. It's hard. You'll see. You'll see...

Stage Two: Culture Shock. The things that were fun and eccentric last month are now dumb and unfuncional. You are doubting your experience here, problems begin to arise, and your lack of language skills isn't cute anymore. It's hard. Going in to month number two, I knew to prepare myself, so my month wasn't as bad. The feeling of being aware that you are slowly slipping out of the honeymoon is terifying. Like seeing the wave before the Tsunami hits. (Okay, it's not that bad, but you get the idea.)
The stage that I am in now is...challenging. Somedays I don't want to get out of my bed in the morning. Somedays I can't wait to get my shoes on and go exploring. The attitude that I have is: What right do I have to complain? I'm living in the center of Madrid. I like my friends, my school, I have three meals on the table, one of the best AFS liasons in the world, a family back home who loves me, and, come on, tell me that 'foreign exchange student at age fifteen' won't look good on college applications. There are people in the world who have it so much worse than me. I'm living a fairytale.
Returnees told be to keep an open mind and to expect nothing. I thought I had. It's like with birthdays: expect to get no presents, so if you don't get anything, you won't be upset. If you do get something, you'll be even happier.
I expected to have a hard time making friends. It was easy for me. I was pleasantly surprised. I expected math class to be a piece of cake. It isn't. Now I'm failing. I expected a relationship with my host family to be effortless. It wasn't. Now I'm working extra hard. Sure, I did a good job with not expecting stupid things, like what time we would eat dinner and if I would have my own bathroom. But those don't matter. They were the things I was stressed out about pre-departure and surprised by in my first month, but now they don't matter. You cannot be prepared. But the fact that you signed up to subject yourself to these challenges shows that you will get through them. Not every teenager can do this, you know. Semester Arrivals in December: everything will work out in the end.

Stage Three: Acceptance than Departure. Great! I'm happy here. I speak the language. I overcame the trifles of the first two stages. This is my home, this is my family. These are the people who I call my friends. And now it's time to leave. Whaaaaaat?
I am not looking forward to leaving. I can tell that my return in America will be hard. How can you live life normally, like a stupid American Teenager, when you just survived a year as a cultural barrier-breaker!?!?!?!?!

What to take away from this? I wish I had paid more attention. I wish that I had stopped planning my fantasy for long enough to embrace reality and prepare for it. I wish that someone had sat me down, smacked me in the face, and forced me to stop fooling around in my Honeymoon and work on setting good foundations for my new life. I also want to be reassured that it WILL get better. I know that it will.

*A note to everyone*
If you are interested in hosting or going abroad this year, you should definitely start the application now! Sometimes the paper work can seem a little overwhelming, but it is worth it in the long run. Don't worry, AFS always extends the application deadline by two weeks, anyway. (Oops, they'll be mad at me for saying that. Hi to the Volunteer who stalks my Blog to make sure I'm not posting profanities!) I'd be happy to help in any way that I can. Good luck! Go for it!

*A note to my Spanish Friends*
If you all really read my blog like you say you do, and you do actually understand all of the English, prove it to me at school tomorrow by coming up to me in Recreo and saying "Sally Sells Sea-shells by the Sea Shore" so that I know you are not lying.

*A note to fellow bloggers*
Does anyone know how to indent paragraphs? Really. I can't figure it out. I'll share my secret about bullet points. Thanks bye.

Two Minor Epiphanies

I'm sorry for posting so often, but I think that what I'm about to say is important. I have had two (minor) epiphanies this week.

Epiphany 1)
I am like a baby. Everyday I'm exposed to news things. I am constantly learning language, society rules, and mannerisomes. I mostly copy what to do from my parents and siblings, and everyone around me is quick to correct if I make a mistake or if I can do something better. It's amazing that I'm absorbing information at every second of every minute of every day. The whole world, and things that more experienced members of the population find mundane, are innately fascinating for me. I can't talk very much, and sometimes it's hard to get my message across, but I just need to wait a little longer for it to get better. I know that what I am learning--right now, without even realizing it or meaning to--will prepare me for when I've been in this life for a little bit longer and I can communicate and behave as an adult. Some day soon, I will be a full-grown Spaniard.

This one isn't major enough to be a minor epiphany, but it deserves to be mentioned. The other day I was in English class, laughing my head off because my teacher can't make the hard 'x' sound. So, she'll go like: "Okey, classs. Turn to paje twee for ey-er-size A!" and I'd just crack myself up from the corner of the room. Then I realized that I can't always get the hard 'g' sound. Heh-neral probably sounds pretty funny to my English teacher, too, but no one in Spain has ever laughed at me before. Needless to say, I hung my head for the rest of the day and felt very humbled.

Epiphany 2)
The second one hit me as I was walking home from school. I'd made a routine by then--get out from colegio, walk to the main street, take my three cross-walks like clockwork, walk a bit more, arrive at home. One day, for no reason in particular, I decided to make a tiny change in my route. It was a minimal alteration: instead of walking under the cool shade of some building on the right side of the street, I decided to cross over to the left side of the street, and see what it was like to return home in the sun. I am so glad that I did. I was strolling along, looking at the path that I had obliviously taken countless times before, when I saw the faces of the buildings I had been walking next to.

There was a beautiful cathedral, just right there, just out of view. It would have been impossible for me to look up and appreciate the spectacle from my normal direction, but just from one little change I was able to see my daily life in a completely different, better way.

How does this tie in? You guessed it. Those who change their lives at a young age like mine will gain a wonderfully different view on the world. I'm learning a culture and a language--a whole culture!!! I can boast that I have friends not only from America and Spain, but from around the world with AFS. I have been connected with opportunities and outlooks that I never would have had access to if I had stayed in my small routine life in North Carolina, and I just know that somehow this will benefit me later on.

AFS has enabled me and more than 370,000 students around the world to share in this life changing experience. For that, I will forever be grateful.

15 Things I Have Been Asked Repeatedly...Since Arriving in Spain

Sorry for posting so often. I didn't think I would make this one, actually. It didn't occur to me that I would have a list of the same (ALWAYS THE SAME) questions I have been asked after I arrived in Spain, too. So, before I forget, here they are:

1) Have you been to New York? Europe sees America through the eyes of MTV, small town life, and Nueva York. They love it there. All of my friends have been, or want to go, or plan on (without doubt) living there when they are older. When I say that yes, I have in fact been to New York, they continue to ask me for how long, what did I see, what would I recommend. I swear they know the landmarks better than I do. NY isn't even our Nation's Capital, but that doesn't matter to Spain.

2) Do you watch Jersey Shore? At this question I have to resist hitting myself in the face. If you aren't familiar with it, Jersey Shore is a show on MTV that takes place on the shore of Jersey. A bunch of thirty-year-olds who are the bane of our society live together and talk about how much they party. Another big one is if life in the show Gossip Girl is anything like real life in the States. If you have ever watched the show Gossip Girl, you should be scared. I remember that I've read some sad statistic that MTV is broadcasted in more of the world than the national news. If all I knew about America was that we get pregnant at sixteen and cry if we don't get ridiculously expensive cars for our birthdays, I'd be a terrorist, too.

3) What, you're a Cheerleader! Are you in love with the Quarter Back? Can you do a flip? Were you Prom Queen? This is reality to them. No, we don't go to school to learn, we go for the football. Really, truly, all cheerleaders are beautiful and mean. I was Prom Queen (as a freshman) and the QB points to me while I'm on the top of the pyramid and then asks me to go steady with him. C'mon, America, get it right. Gosh.

4) Do you always eat and buy food on the streets? Jajaja, I've never actually been asked this one, but apparently this happens a lot to my American friends in Spain. I guess in movies Americans (usually played by Canadians) buy hamburgers from a street vender then refuse to sit down and eat like a civilized person.

5) Where are you from? "Los Estados Unidos." "While, obviously, but where in the States?" (I always get these mixed up. I'm actually really excited that people care enough to question me, but it takes a few tries for me to understand.) "Oh! Carolina del Norte." At this point they nod, like I have answered correctly. They like that I live somewhere where Spain has occupied. The only way I possibly could have answered better is to have said California or New York.

6) How long have you been here? Now I know that they're judging my Spanish. I think they get their answer from me confusing "how long WILL you be here" with the real question even after I finally say "one month."

7) How long will you be here? "A year." "Oh. No biggie. It's not that long." When I said one year in America, the person I was speaking with would grasp their heart and cross themselves. In Spain? A year? Meh.

8) Do you like Madrid? People really like asking me this in their broken English. I laugh and reply in Spanish to coax them into the other language, or, if I'm feeling generous, I'll grace them with an exaggerated Southern accent.

9) What kind of music do you like? This is important to them. I'm not sure why. Just answer "all kinds" then say yes to the bands they list so they think they have something in common with you.

These are things that I say often.

10) Where are we going? Donde Vamos? Eventually I learned to just go with it, my host family wasn't going to abduct me. "Hey, look! The Royal Palace!" "Yes, we're buying tickets." "...I knew that." I didn't. Buy, hey, the Royal Palace!

11) Where are we? "We're in a bank to pay the five dollars for your school." "...I knew that." I didn't. But, as I grew up a Girl Scout, I am always prepared with my purse to pay for my school and other random expenses. I think school is giving me a t-shirt.

12) What's your name? Quick, say your names as rapidly and slurred as you can! Okay: Garisidhwsa, Mercdhba, Johunodeuh, Quilsjs, Baniwetfo. It's okay. I wouldn't have remembered them, anyways.

13) What are we doing? This is reserved for school.

14) No, Gracias. No, Gracias. I would not like a fifth serving of pasta. No, Gracias, I do not want to smell your sandwich. No, Gracias. I don't care to decide if every boy in my grade is attractive or not.

15) Sí, Gracias. What else, really, can you say? Would you like a glass of wine with dinner?... ;)

Are you sure?

Oh, how quickly time passes! I've been here a month? Are you sure? But, when you think about it, one month isn't too long. I only have nine more.
Just want to remind everyone, I'm in Madrid, Spain as a foreign exchange student for the year with a program called AFS. Okay, good, got that down.
Some quick updates:

My Spanish is getting better. Yesterday I saw some friends of my host sister who I hadn't seen since my first few days, and they asked me if I thought my Spanish had improved. It made me realize: Well, yes. Actually, it has. I can speak with more confidence now, and I understand a lot more. I also get more of the accent, because I had been used to Spanish from South America, which is very different. Just don't count on an answer if you ask me a question. I'll probably laugh and say "Sí."

My English grammar is going down the drain. I spek...like dis..and I can't spell anymore. I'll be writing in English for no particular reason and I'll get to a word like 'surprised' or 'ticket' and I'll just stop and stare for literally a minute. What do you mean, sur-prised has an 'r' in front of the 'p?' Is it ticcet, tiket, tickit? The other day I misspelled 'chemistry' wrong about five times (I just did then, too) because in Spanish it's 'quimica' so I'm thinking that in English it's quimistry, then later than it's chememstrey. I'm scared for my grades when I get back home.

Being a foreign exchange student? Not really a big deal here. Everyone is more impressed that I'm from America than anything. Most of my friends have spent a month in England, or gone to camp in Germany or something like that. This is another of those 'maybe it's just because you're in Madrid' kind of things, because the citizens are used to foreigners on every street corner with all of the embassies and international schools. It's a pretty big city.

I can take the Metro. Alone. And walk around by myself at night. Today I walked the fifteen minutes to Sol to buy my books for school. Without the help of my parents. City Kid=Check.

Not everyone here thinks that Franco was such a bad guy. I don't really know why yet, but they seem to be in disagreement with the rest of the world's history books.

Everyone loves President Obama. I watched the first of the presidential debates on YouTube (it was on at three A.M. here,) because, yes, I know, I shouldn't be exposed to English for an hour and a half, but it's just one of those things that I had to do. I miss my campaign session TV. Until Governor Romney said in his schtick on the economy that he did not want to become as bad as Spain, no one knew who he was. Now the general public is pretty upset. All of the news papers absolutely slammed(took me four tries to spell 'absolutely' right) him in the International Section this morning. It was story after story about how much Romney messed up. If he is elected, his relationship here will not be a good one.

El Clasico was last night. For those of you who don't know, it's a soccer match between Real Madrid and Barcelona. The match, on top of being very important for fans, holds a lot of political tension because Real Madrid (my favorite team) represents the government and the crown, while Barça represents the capital of Catalonia (a district of Spain) and how Catalonia wants to separate from Spain and become its individual country. This is a big deal here, and it is very controversial for all. I watched with my very enthusiastic host family and their cousins. I think a tie (2-2) was the safest result for the stability of the country.

Returning to politics, you may have seen on TV some of the crazy protests going on throughout Spain recently. I don't pretend to fully understand everything yet, and maybe I'll post on it when I do, but I know that the Izquierda (left) party is mad at the Derecha (right) government and all of the cuts that they're making to public funding. If you have seen them, you know that La Policia beats the crap out of the protestors. I had joked with some AFSers about going to one, just because it's officially (three tries) part of the Spanish culture. I mentioned this to my host brother while we were hanging out with some of his friends in a park, and suddenly we were headed to La Plaza Neptuno to see a protest.

Now, let's clear some things up. Las Manifestaciones are not violent or dangerous until really late at night, and the news channels purposefully show the bloodiest parts. If the police is going after you, it's because you were stupid enough to provoke them. It's not a full out battle-field everyday.

Something that surprised me was that they're not organized at all. It's not like the Executive Vice-President of the Committee for the Wealth of Public Education and the Security of Democracy sent out a Facebook message and was like, "Hey, everybody! Meet up at La Plaza Neptuno on the 25th of September from five to ten. Memorize this chant and don't forget to pick up your signs at the fountain!"

It's more like "We're mad. At the Government, at the world, Romney, the economy; we heard that there are some people at this place and we think we're going to go."


There are a LOT of police as you approach the Plaza. The flashing blue lights, black padded policia, guns, everything. The plaza square was packed full of people, but we stayed on the outside of the crowd where it was safer. Basically you just stand around, chant things, take pictures, maybe climb up on some windows and tie up a sign or two. I'm glad I got to experience it, and I felt super bad-ass for being a local protester in Madrid. Enjoy.

Protest

Man, do I feel bad for the tourists staying there.

Climbin' on some windows.

Hey to Perth, Australia!

Spanish, School, Sports

I have been in Spain for two weeks. I don't want to count down my time here like I did for my departure, because I don't want to leave. This is one instance where the phrase "YOLO" could possibly be justifiable. Everything here has been great! I can't think of anything, really, that hasn't been fun, or interesting, or at least new. Of course, each day would be a lot better if I spoke better Spanish. My Spanish is not very good. I still have trouble with the difference between "mayor" and "mejor" and simple things like that. One day in my first week I mixed up the verb cargar "to charge," with the verb "cagar," and if you know what "cagar" means.... I ran around the house yelling "I need to cagar my phone! I need to cagar my phone!" I quickly learned the meaning of the verb. My host siblings thought it was very funny.

I know I'm strange in this, but I don't really get frustrated at my lack of language skills. Like when I'm helping my host family set the table and I can't remember the word for refrigerador, and I'm standing there going "ummm, ummmmmmm" and everyone is staring at me and the person I was just introduced to is thinking that I'm stupid and the teacher is about to call on someone else because I've been racking my brain for five minutes now, I'm not upset. I'm not embarrassed. I know some students who hate this part of exchange and are hitting themselves for not being able to do it. I don't mind. If I got frustrated every time I hit the language barrier, I would always be in a bad mood. Just imagine how hard it would be.

Everyone in Madrid speaks at least minimal English, so I have been able to get around. I feel like I'm speaking way too much English for my 'total immersion' method to work, but it's just the first couple of weeks. My host father put it a good way: we are using the swimming pool complex. You know, you throw the kid into the water, and they ether learn to swim or they die? Well that means that I'm drowning. I plan on cutting off my English life-lines at school and home this week or the next, but I can say I'm not looking forward to it.

School has been good. I wake up at seven, an hour after I would have in the states, get ready, leave the house at 8:08, lock up behind me, walk, ALONE, to school five minutes away and wait outside until it's 8:20. I feel courageously adventurous when I walk to school by myself. The first couple of days my host parents walked with me, but after that I figured it out on my own. I got minorly lost a few times, but it was fun to bravely trudge my way through the identical streets whose names I do not know. School starts at 8:30 and ends at 2:15. I like most of my classes and teachers, and all of the students are commendably helpful. I've heard that some people are having tough times in school, and I'm sorry for them, but maybe it's different in Madrid? Like, everyone stares at them and laughs and the teachers don't acknowledge that they don't speak Spanish. For me, literally everyone will offer to translate, explain, or elaborate. They say that I can study with them on the weekends, or barrow their notes if I want to. It's fantastic. They couldn't be better.

Here's my time table. The gym teacher came in on our first day of school and read through this confusing list (in Spanish) and we were supposed to copy it and figure out our classes. It was hilarious. The twenty-five kids in my class yelled at him to slow down and argued with colorful cursing. Class is a big fiasco in Spain. You call the teacher by their first names, and nothing is very formal. It's great fun. My new friends Elena and Manu helped me with figuring out what classes I had, and eventually just stole the paper from the teacher and wrote it on the board so the class could see. I was informed that this teacher is a little off his rocker.

Can I just say I love the fact that I have an actual complex schedule like in Harry Potter? It makes me feel very cool.

Here are my classes:

Mathematics: This is my main class. Try not understanding something in math class. Now try having it explained to you in Spanish. It's hard. In Spain, you choose a 'track' like math, language, or humanities, and you take set classes based on your choice. You don't get to change around like you can in America, which is different, and you have most of your classes with the same group of people. If you are a language major you may never meet the students on the math track, even if you go to school together for six years. Muy interesante. I'm on math track, class 4B. Four because I'm in 4 de ESO, B because B is more difficult than classes A, C, D, and E. (...what?)

Biology and Geology: The teacher for this class is great. He comes in then pulls his chair into the center of the room and we all crowd around him, sitting in each other's laps or on top of desks. He talks for the whole forty-five minutes of class (in America my classes were ninety minutes, and there were only four a day) and may crack open a book if we don't understand something. I really like the way he teaches because the students are engaged enough in what's going on that they are actually interested in what he has to say.

Classic Culture: I love it. How cool is it to study the Romans in a place that was influenced by them? Plus, I can actually understand what the teacher is saying! I know all of the myths from my childhood because I'm such a nerd, so I'm able to translate the words 'manzana' 'Persepóna, and 'Afrodita.'

Physics and Chemistry: I'm on math track, science focus, so this is one of the classes that I don't change rooms for, and the professor comes to us. I am so glad I chose to take Cultura Clásica instead of an additional course of deeper Physics and Chemistry. The profesora enters the class, settles down, and talks to us the whole time, very quietly and slowly. I don't understand anything. She gave us an evaluation test on the first day and I'm pretty sure I did not answer a single question. I did doodle a pretty mean looking solar system, though.

Physical Education: Jajajaja, this class is a joke. This is the teacher who's a little bit crazy, so at least the class is funny. Now, in America, the most athletic thing we do in gym class is run the mile and have free-time, so I'm not up on any high-horse. But we are a little bit better. I showed up on Thursday with my Nike gear, but everyone else was wearing tights and the clothes they would wear the rest of the day. We were sorted into groups based on skill, something that happens a lot in the first weeks of school here, and then we 'ran' around the courtyard. If you move your arms with exaggerated motions and breath heavy like you're tired, the teacher will think you are running. He is literally that crazy. The kids here totally know how to use this guy. It's impressive.

Catholic Religion: I signed up for this class because, when in Spain, you are Catholic. I didn't know that my other option would have been a free period with my friends. This class is sort of the class where you put the 'bad kids' who misbehave and fail every grade. The teacher didn't know I was American, so he started yelling at me, and there was no one to explain to him that I didn't speak Spanish because my friends had a free period, so I just stumbled along until he turned out to speak English. It's going to be hard to convince him that he should talk with me in Spanish. I know the basic information of the itinerary, but i'll have to be careful in this class. In an essay I started writing about how evil the Church was during the Inquisition, and I started justifying Luther, but then I crossed it out with pen and figured that probably wasn't a good idea here. My Religion teacher last year was a very firey Jewish man, so my view on the progression of history may be a little different...

Language: This is Spanish Grammar, same as English class in America. I don't want to talk about it. The teacher is nice, my friends can help me, but I asked my partner why I would ever need to know what an exclamative question was, and they were completely boggled. I have an exam on Halloween about a book in Spanish, so I should probably start reading it. We will not be going over the book in class. The exam is worth seventy-five percent of my grade. I do not speak Spanish.

Ethics: Philosophy. I might stay awake in this class as the profesora lectures about the true definition of past, present, and future when I understand what she is so excited about. Or when I know the meaning of life (there's a chapter in the text book about this.)

English: English! My school is technically a bilingual school, but that just means that English as a language is a required class. The students are pretty good in this class because they watch so much American TV, but the teacher is...not good. Her accent is hilarious. She sounds French with her English, her grammar ain't good, and she says "das reh" (that's right) after every student answers a question. She told me that I don't have to buy the book for the class or do the work, so I sit in the corner, far away from the others and read my Language textbook as I try not to laugh. I just have to take the tests. Tell me, what is the opposite of a quiet (person)? It was in a crossword, and it starts with C. Not loud, noisy, or even unquiet. Chatty.
...what?

Information: This is a computer class. I don't want to take it, but it was required with my track. It's on the sixth floor of my building, which is a lot of stairs, and it's all in Spanish. Luckily the class is easy, and my partner is nice.

History: Another one I don't change classes for. I'm not sure what the class is like, because the teacher has never showed up. We just hang around and talk during this time. The authorities know that we're in here without a teacher, the principle even came in once, but so far no teacher. No one knows where he is. No one cares. I don't see an immediate future.


Sports here are weird. We have a recess at school, where everyone goes outside and we eat snacks and the boys play soccer or basketball. The girls don't play. Girls only play 'soft' sports like vollyball. I actually have a friend, a girl who plays soccer for Atlética Madrid, which is amazing, but even that is just because she is so good. I can say I knew her when.

The only sport I could play with my school is vollyball, which does not interest me in the least. I may look into Flamenco classes or joining my host family's pool, but I live close to a great park that is beautiful for jogging. I'll need to run off that Foreign-Fifeteen.

Hey, guys. What does AFS stand for? No, not American Field Services. Another Fat Student! Jajajajaja.

So, to return to sports, I was at my brother's Rugby match last Saturday, which is not a regular game here either. My host father took me around and introduced me to all the Rugby-moms and Rugby-dads. There was a mom named Viviana! First off, everyone always says "que guapa!" when they meet me. They are literally calling me beautiful. It will go like this: "Hi, blah blah blah, meet Vivian!" "Ohhh, que guapa! You are so beautiful!" The first couple of days I sort of just bit my shock and nodded. Old people and my friends both. I know that they're not lying, because if they thought I was ugly they would bluntly say "Dios, you're ugly" and if they thought I was average the Spaniards wouldn't think it rude to say "Oh, you're not very pretty. I'm sure your host family was hoping for a prettier daughter." I guess they don't see blue eyes, blonde hair, or pale skin very often.

Anyways, I was at the Rugby match chatting with a mom. She pulled out her iphone and started showing me pictures of her sons who were playing at the moment. I thought this a very motherly, sweet thing to do. Another mom came over to us and exclaimed that I was just the most dazzling thing she had ever seen. "You will find a boyfriend in no time!" Seriously. They say this a lot. No one else here finds it creepy. I don't think Spain knows that I'm here as a student to learn, not to find a boyfriend.

The idea was sparked in the mom's head. Next thing I know she is taking a picture of me with her iphone. I was distracted by a Rugby-dad as I explained to him the lacross, the sport I play, is best seen in the film American Pie, so I couldn't stop her. (Once I say that they always know what I'm talking about.) She showed me a text message bearing my picture to her sons that literally, no joke, said this:

Hola! Te gusta? Ella es una chica
Americana y ella es muy linda! Quieres?

Hello! You like? She is American
and she is very pretty! You want?

Yep.

And now for photos!

This is a McDonalds. WHAT THE HECK.

SOl!

Yep, I live twenty minutes away.

Fivish major streets all lead to Sol.

I thought this was very typical Spanish-looking.

At the market with my host mother. The guy is laughing at me.

Quieres?

At a rugby match twenty minutes outside of the city and, bam, mountains.

"The Sky is different in Spain"-my host mother.

Yes, my host family has a bidet, and they use it.

at McDonalds with girls from School

Three story H&M. Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?

Newspaper

Yo estaba en el periódico en mi casa de Durham.
Allí está.
http://heraldsun.com/view/full_story/20042920/article-Trading-Places