Heather's Spanish fails again

So I have almost no ability to communicate with Spanish bus drivers, as evidenced by me (and sometimes one of the Starhills) ending up in the wrong city by accident, by my not getting on the bus that actually does go where I want to go, and by my failing to engage in excited verbal jousting with drivers whom I feel have wronged me. Second to bus drivers, in the communication department, comes hairdressers. Last time I was here I repeatedly asked that my haircut be cut in a "linea recta" -- straight line. But almost every time, I ended up with a Jennifer Aniston fringe. Eventually, I just grew my hair out.

This weekend, I visited my linguistic incompetence on the boys. Apparently, my Spanish for “long on top, short on the sides” means “give my boy a haircut that looks like Ronaldo’s." As in:

Seth got the first haircut, beaming at himself in the mirror the entire time. Here's how he ended up looking:

As you can see, Seth's very proud of his new hair. Nathan went second, and because he's more conservative than his brother, I tried to explain to the hairdresser that his should be longer, that Nathan doesn’t like fashionable haircuts, basically pleading with her to do nothing rash. And here's how Nathan looks:

Considerably less psyched about the haircut than Seth, as you can see. His new nickname in the family is Neymar, presumably after this gentleman:

Lesson on life in Spain 101: Don't trust google translate when dealing with hair.

Lent

Last night Nora and I were out walking and we randomly struck Spanish pay dirt in the form of a Lenten celebration. Down near the internet café's parking lot, we spotted a scrum of people, some of whom seemed to be bearing along a giant figurine of some sort. Spanish processions often haul along statues of virgins, who seem to need to transit from place to place frequently throughout the year. We went closer, and in fact this particular group was hauling along a giant paper-mache fish, which they then placed in the center of the parking lot:

Next, two Catholic priests appeared and blessed the fish, complete a reading from the bible and the sign of the cross. The scene was made even more complete by the Spanish women dressed in black hats/lace veils and singing various songs. And of course, the civil guard standing by (see the guy in orange).

Those civil guard came in handy when one of the priests set fire to the fish. An excellent choice on a night with 20+ MPH winds.

And a lucky night to be out on a walk.

Spring

Spoke too soon (in the last entry) about spring arriving. While the trees and bushes (and wildflowers) continue to bloom, here's the 10-day forecast. Exactly as I remember February in Madrid. Which makes me happy to be headed to Laguna Beach in a couple weeks.

As well, last Sunday I was sitting in the local cafe drinking coffee and working on a paper, when an older gentleman handed me this:

Not super-sure what it means -- perhaps I was getting called out for working in public on a Sunday?

February Update

Greetings from Spain once again. We’ve had our two weeks of winter (gray, cold, damp, windy), and have moved into spring-like weather – sunshine, highs in the 60s, light winds, even some trees and bushes blooming. Not happy, on the earth’s behalf, that this period began in late January. But happy given all the kids’ soccer we have, that I’m not turning into an icicle four times per week.

Jon’s been back and forth to the US quite a bit this month (teaching), and thus I’m picking up more of the soccer duties than usual. Seth’s 7-year-old team has been particularly interesting. They’re pretty good (undefeated in league play, with something like 60 goals to their opponent’s 1), and the coach is clearly very pleased – and also very clearly interested in keeping up the winning streak. We get long whatsapp texts previewing each week’s game, and before a recent high-stakes game, he gave en epic 22-minute motivational speech to the boys, complete with whiteboard diagrams of strategy, etc. The games are just fun to watch – one of the taller boys is so good that he will pass the ball to himself around defenders before scoring. Seth has chosen to play goalie, both because he enjoys throwing himself on the ground (guess all those toddler tantrums were good practice for something) and because he really loves wearing the goalie gloves. We’re pretty sure that Seth’s team could beat Nora’s team, in fact; our poor girl did not get winning soccer karma this year, though she hangs in there and seems to enjoy playing with the team.

The Spanish election and its fallout have been interesting to watch. The ruling party (conservatives) failed to achieve enough seats in Parliament to form a government; there are multiple parties on the left (including viable socialist and communist parties), but these have a) refused to join with the ruling party and b) refused to join with one another. So it’s stalemate. Spanish daytime television has abandoned is usual fare (fashion, food fights) in favor of round-the-clock tabs on Parliament, interspersed with footage of perp walks by local corrupt politicians. The King, whose job it is to invite a leader to form a government, is also often featured trying to play broker to the warring parties. New elections are pending if the King and the politicians can't work things out -- but interestingly, Spain does not have a run-off structure, meaning we may see the exact same results again.

We had another  positive encounter with the Spanish health care system this past weekend. Nathan slipped while playing soccer, fell on his hand, and had a potential break. So Sunday morning we headed to the local ER and got it x-rayed.  Diagnosis: Not broken. Total cost: $250. Total time from check-in to wrapping it: 1 hour. It took longer to get to and from the ER than it did to get it checked out. 

Over the past few years, I've occasionally threatened to get myself tattooed with the Alcobendas city seal (see right). Just a small tattoo. Nevertheless, the kids have reacted with horror -- apparently having a tattooed mother is not in their playbook. The pending crisis, however, has been averted. Seeing that city workers all have cool Alcobendas shirts and fleeces, our friend Miguel called the city to see whether they would be willing to let us buy one. No dice -- apparently, such things are not done. But Miguel did capture the figure and have a friend turn it into an image that can be printed onto shirts. That and a trip to the local Decathlon, where they did not bat an eye when we asked them to put this image on six shirts, got me the next-closest thing to a tattoo.

Other notes…

The French school now has more police guarding it morning/night than our school; however, the police at our school have bigger guns.

On Sunday, we took a little walk outside the Madrid city limits. Which, unlike what you’d see America, is farmland. In the city, the residential apartment complexes go right up to the last road built, and then there’s no structures except some ramshackle farmhouses (complete with crowing chickens) and a few villages off in the distance. Apparently, according to our friends, the Spanish dream is not to move out to a big house in the ‘burbs, but to move in closer to the city center where there’s more going on. Or to live where you grew up in – there’s a startling number of Spanish who live only blocks from where their parents live, their grandparents lived, etc. In any case, all this means no suburbia; the city comes to a line and then stops, and then the farmland begins. Sighted a few hundred yards from the city: horse farm, free-range horses, free-range donkey, and a giant herd (flock?) of sheep, complete with a sheepdog and shepherd attending them.

We continue our semi-monthly pilgrimages to the local giant sporting goods store. This place never fails to amuse us. Spotted on our last visit: shark-finned swim caps and a flamenco section: 

We also spend a lot of time at the local amusement park with the kids. Nora and Seth are quite the roller coaster enthusiasts. Winter weather (such as it is here) means no lines and empty rides, much to our delight.

FIFA Update

Seth's now legal to play in the neighborhood soccer league games. Hoping Nathan and Nora's permissions come next week!

General update--December

Long time since I’ve last written. The last month has been challenging, as Jon’s mother passed away suddenly toward the beginning of the month. She was a lovely woman (I always said I got extremely lucky in the mother-in-law department), very gifted in the realm of social relations (which she passed directly to Nora), and also raised three sons who are exceptionally good people.  Jon traveled to Georgia for her funeral, and we’ll get a chance see Jon’s father again in a couple weeks.

I (Heather) also submitted 2.3 NSF grants in the last month. That made November even more fun.   

So somewhere there’s a long draft blog about our city (Alcobendas) and its amusements. But here’s the shorter-term update.

1. We are locked in battle with FIFA (yes, that FIFA) over whether our kids can play soccer matches in the town league (yes, I said town league). Apparently, there’s new regulations this year about foreigners playing in Europe – too many outsiders, apparently, had been moving to Europe to train their kids in high-quality soccer programs (guilty!). So Jon spends a lot of his time shuttling from one city office to another, getting official letters and getting official letters stamped and turning in letters, all with the hope that we can prove that we’re here because we love Spain and not to train our children in European-quality soccer.

One of the more interesting things about this is that Futbol Feminina (Nora) has taken a different approach to said approval process than the boys’ Futbol leagues.  So Jon goes through a completely separate set of steps for Futbol FIFA feminina and masculino (is that a Spanish word?). We kind of think of it as a competition – who’s going to come through with the documentation first?

2.  We are also locked in battle with the Spanish bureaucracy re: our residency cards, which we need to exit and re-enter the country legally. Last time we managed to procure the cards in about three months; this year there’s additional regulations (involving many more trips to the local immigration center, where we routinely see Mormon missionaries…hmmmm) so we’ll be happy to have the cards by spring.

3. Shocking, given the above: the local bus system started, in October, a new program that allows kids to buy a pass for the low price of $21 per month. We applied in mid-October, and received the cards Nov 1. The sprawling (4 companies in our local area!) bus system is generally dysfunctional (see past posts; the randomness of which bus is willing to pick you up when and where has continued….), so why the sudden functionality amid the general chaos?

4. It’s become apparent from the above that it takes a full-time parent to manage the household. One day, for instance, Jon was gone from 4:00 to 10:30 PM, dealing with various soccer practices, school meetings, and so forth.

5. Despite #1-4, we still love our adopted country. Exhibits:

A. Friends and cousins over for Spanish lunches (three times in the last month). Delightful. Amazing. Our kids play with one another, the adults actually have a conversation. Only in Spain can you really invest in time with friends and learn from them. Miraculously, Heather even follows a lot of the conversation. Though she still cannot conjugate a verb.

B. Heather has taken the Starhills to Parque de Atraciones (amusement park) twice (once with the cousins!). The Starhills were remarkably nice to one another during these trips and appreciative generally of a) amusement parks and b) beautiful late-autumn weather to enjoy (a).

C. Bread. From Montes brothers’ bakery/bar. Heather gets the bread most days, and treats herself to a morning there drinking decaf coffee when papers are in late-stage (paper copy) editing. It’s very motivating, actually. The only letdown: Montes has hired a new counterwoman who is totally pleasant and sweet. So despite the senior citizens’/customers’ best attempts to provoke her into an argument about the quality/availability of specific kinds of bread, there are no shouting matches this year. Hot-headed brother has made appearances in the shop, but does not seem allowed to deal with the public.

D. Our kids’ school. Our kids seem again to be having independent thoughts and ideas, which we attribute to good Jewish education (in Spanish). The school has gone out of its way to make our kids feel welcome, and we (well, Jon, whose Spanish is better) are enjoying going to weekly 7-year-old birthday parties.

E. Orthodonture. Cheap and extremely efficient in Spain.  Nora is excited to get her braces off in 6 months.

F. Decathlon. A French sporting-goods store, visited frequently by the Starhills as a weekend activity. They have a skateboard corral, a slack-line, a padel (relative of tennis) court, and other try-it-before-you-buy-it kinds of amusements for the kids. And low, low prices. Like $8 for Heather’s favorite fleeces (I bought two).  And $4 for boys’ track pants, which are essentially a disposable item in our household (holes in the knees from soccer). And $10 for kids’ sleeping bags, which proved helpful upon Nathan’s class trip to Toledo.

G. Churros. With small bowls of molten chocolate. On the way to Decathlon.  Enough said.

H. For two Euros, you get a beer and a tiny dinner (otherwise known as tapas). These tapas are at the bar associated with the kids’ soccer fields. Yes, there are bars associated with all soccer fields in Alcobendas. Enough said.

I. Spanish coffee. Yum. Note to the Starbucks in our neighborhood: stop making Starbucks-Spanish-coffee and just make regular Spanish coffee. As served in the 100+ bars in our area.  It is much better.

Kid update:

Nora had serious, stakes-attached exams last month, her first ever.  Heather’s realizing that middle school is about kids figuring out how to study (Jon, as a former middle school teacher, knew that already). Nora also spontaneously reported that “I’m realizing a lot of stuff lately. It’s like part of my brain suddenly turned on.” Welcome to Piaget’s formal-operational stage, sweetie.

Nathan continues to be a sweetheart. He’s noticeably changed since going to sleep-away camp this year, though: much more social and outgoing, and also more willing to be a joker. He’s got good friends at school and on his soccer team (which he’s allowed to practice with, but not play matches for).

Seth continues to be a force of nature. Around the house, he alternates between reading (occasional), examining and sorting his soccer cards (often), playing a “match” vs. Nathan with those Futbol cards (often) and on-the-move activities like practicing his goalie saves (often). He and Nathan have a particularly funny routine in which Seth says to Nathan only one word: “Cow?” and then next thing you know, both boys are on the rug wrestling. What a cow has to do with it, we don’t know.

Mexican food in the neighborhood

Jon and I went out on our usual Wednesday date walk today. First stop was the flea/fruit market (fleas and fruits in separate sections, thankfully). Heather bought six scarves for nine Euros, and Jon bought an assortment of fruits and veggies from a well-trafficked stand. Lacking Yelp or a similar crowd-rating app, our rule in Spain is "follow the people" -- meaning, always eat in restaurants where there's hoards of folks, buy in shops where we see lots of folks coming in/out, and so forth. At the fruit section of the market, there's two stalls that require a 20-minute wait to get the produce, and lots of stalls that have few customers. We don't know what makes the difference between the former and the latter, but we're not going to risk limp lettuce to find out.

We did, however, break the "follow the people" rule when finding a lunch place. It's hard to describe how many potential places there are to eat in Alcobendas/San Sebastien -- every commercial block has at least a couple bars, bar/restaurants, mesons, restaurantes, cervezerias, etc. We tried to apply the rule, but at only 1:30 in the afternoon, it was too early for restaurants to be full -- and in some cases, to even be open. Then we wandered by the Don Fer's Restaurante/Frida Bar and despite the lack of clientele, Heather was smitten. Especially because the owner/bartender and waitress/cook did their best to dissuade us from actually eating in their establishment, warning us twice that they serve Mexican food and describing it to us as if it were somewhat exotic ("Mexican food is burritos, tacos, enchiladas, other things like that").  The waitress/cook also warned us off the mole, saying that it was made with real Mexican ingredients and would be too spicy for normal people to eat (it was fine, spice-wise, and actually quite delicious). Homemade guacamole (yum), a burrito, two tacos (yum), and three enchiladas (yum) later, both the waitress and the owner both came over to suggest solutions to our pending indigestion.

Which is how Jon ended up with a shot of tequila for lunch:

(sorry for the blurriness -- iPhone 3 camera on short notice).

The waitress suggested a particular antacid; the owner thought the tequila would accomplish the same objective without a trip to the pharmacy. And then got out his bottle of tequila and handed Jon some. Which Jon enjoyed ("smooth.")

We may need more subjects and a double-blind trial to see whether tequila really is the answer. But the food was good, and the canas of beer bought Heather a nice post-lunch siesta (sorry to everyone whose email I didn't answer this afternoon!).