Bunyola Forever!

Sorry- there’s no internet in Bunyola so the last few weeks have been quite rough!

You’re all a bunch of wise-guys, aren’t you?  A family of comedians.  But really, I appreciate the spamming of my last post.  I told you guys in my comeback post to keep me honest, and really, this behaviour doesn’t surprise me as much as it probably should.  I can picture Blurt now giggling like a schoolgirl at a slumber party.

So, what have I been up to? Where in the world is Breezo San Diego?

Quite a bit has happened in the past couple of weeks.  Firstly, I’m now giving English lessons to a 3 year-old and a 5 year-old who live in a cute country house on the outskirts of Binissalem.  Last Wednesday was my first lesson, but it’s really just babysitting them and speaking to them in English, which is quite simple enough for me!

The whole time was pure comedy, but more like one of those comedies you watch half-laughing and half-cringing, like Meet the Parents.  When I first get there, I just want to say these kids are the largest (fattest) Spanish children I’ve ever seen.  We get to the house, and the first thing the mom does is holds the younger kid down and fills a syringe with fruit smoothie that she squirts in his mouth.  After he swallows, he screams gleefully, “it makes me poop, it makes me poop.  Pooping is difficult” in catalan.  Oy, that should have tipped me off that I was in for a ride.  Also, did I mention the family dog is a less rabid-looking doppelganger of the street dog I have beef with… don’t even get me started!

So, the evening started out okay and we started to put a jigsaw puzzle together.  Until suddenly, the younger kid went nuts and started pulling the puzzle apart and spanking his brother.  And then, before I knew it, he had taken off his pants and underwear and was running through the house like the little piggy that went “wee wee wee” all the way home.  Then all of the sudden, the older one starts tackling him and riding him like a horse, until the younger one shots he needs to poop and runs to the bathroom.  I was mortified, livid, and could not for the life of me figure out how to get this kid to put his pants back on.  When the mom came out of her room, she was totally unfazed and put his pants on without underwear.  I was freaked out.  No wonder the girl who used to do this job mysteriously backed out!  Any who, they pay me; so, it’s all good, assuming the dog and/or younger child don’t try to eat me alive. 

Hmm what else have I been up to?  Last week, school was filled with Thanksgiving presentations, which went really well, I do say.  I compared Thanksgiving with the Harvest festival here in Binissalem.  It got the kids talking, and the teachers ate it up like candy… or rather, turkey! 

Then, I missed Thanksgiving on Thursday because I went to Malaga with my roommate to see a concert.  It was a great trip, filled with foreigner faux pas and delicious cuisine.  When we arrived, we went to his house, and met his family and, wait for it… two cats!  Luckily I had been warned in advanced and was prepared, and I actually didn’t even react much because I was pretty diligent about over-medicating… yep.  And, shockingly enough, I loved the cats, Negri and Pinti.  Quite the feat, seeing as I have major trust issues when it comes to cats.

ANYways, there were a few foreigner moments where I looked like an idiot, which ended up being funny enough.  I was sort of in a semi-state of shock the first night because I hadn’t realized how strong their andaluz accents would be.  Typically, I understand everything my roommate says, or at least if he repeats himself once.  The whole family spoke with such strong accents though.  They literally drop half of every word there.  Some of my Spanish friends were saying that they don’t understand the accent either, which makes me feel better.  Everyone in Spain makes fun of the people in Andalucia because they eat their words, and in linguistics we learned about how they aspirate their /s/ sound so that it sounds like a breathy /h/ (ex. ‘mah o menoh’ instead of ‘mas o menos’).  One bar we drove by in Malaga was called “Bacompa,” and my roommate was laughing because it was the “andaluz” word for “Bar Compas”… all these andaluz jokes are funny, until you’re totally lost trying to understand this language that is supposed to sound familiar!  Luckily, it got better by the second day.

It’s a shame they talk so funny because, it’s a great culture down South.   When you think of Spanish culture, or at least the popular commercial image of Spain, I assure you, you are thinking of Andalucia.  It’s the home of flamenco, bullfighting, orange and lemon trees, Picasso and Antonio Banderas!  At the concert, when the crowd was clapping for an encore, it was a flamenco-style clap… Bienvenidos a Malaga!  It really is an enchanting place the Costa del Sol.  However, the whole time we were there, it was raining!!!!  Blasts. 

The first night, we walked around the gorgeous city center, with the shopping and bars around Calle Larios, the Teatro Romano, the Alcazaba castle all lit up at night, and the Cathedral, which is called the ‘one-armed lady’ because it is missing two towers, apparently because during the American Revolution, the British Colonies borrowed the money from Spain that was intended for these towers… or so the legend says.  Then, we tried their traditional fast food, which is a ‘papa’ or baked potato.  We went to Don Papon’s and I ordered the Don Papon con todo.  It was incredible.  It was a giant twice-baked potato fully loaded with green olives, mayo, cheeses, and various other things. I found it to be interesting because it is the only regional food here in Spain that I’ve noticed is not based around a traditionally Spanish crop, but rather an American crop.  But, it makes sense because the Conquistadors’ ships that went to America left from the Costa del Sol; so, my theory is that the papa has a historical colonial past, and that it was popular there because it was a trendy import from the New World that stuck… because it’s delicious.  That’s my theory, and I’m sticking to it!  It was a great trip, and the mom even sent me home with a tupperware of homegrown membrillo (quince).  Mmm mm good.  I left saying I would never be hungry again, but the next night, we were having our Thanksgiving feast in Palma.  I contributed the mashed potatoes, and made dad proud.  It was a joyous feast.  We managed to cook a 6kilo (15lb) turkey in a gas oven with no temperature markings and no thermometer… it took about 5 hours, but it was delicious and nobody got sick! 

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Yesterday was a fun day too because it was “El Clasico,” which is when Real Madrid plays Barca.  The game started at 9, but the bar was super-packed by 8:15, and it was a really fun environment.  Barca won 5-0, and it was a pretty awful game, but it was pretty entertaining, and the Barca fans were not as obnoxious as they could have been.  After a while, the chirping subsided, and everyone was just enjoying the party and chanting, and having a good time.  The Madrid fans were pretty quiet, but then everyone started getting rowdy and shouting this cheer that goes “Alcohol!  Alcohol!  Alcohol! Alcohol! Alcohol!  Hemos venido emborracharnos, el resultado nos da igual!” (Alcohol!… now that we’ve gotten drunk, the score doesn’t matter to us) to the tune of “O, My Darling Clementine.”  It was a pretty good time, and it was the talk of the town at school today.  I had a teacher change a test from today to next week because the kids weren’t going to study on the night of the Clasico.  Okay, I’m going to go to bed now, but I hope that recap was fun and warrants as many responses as the last post!