Just practicing my asturian language skills. After all these years of perfecting my Spanish, I return to Asturias shocked that I could ever learn anything from those guys in the first place... they speak crazy talk. But I love it. And I love them all dearly. Something I'm reminded of every time I go back.
So, I went to see Marta and her family last weekend in Pola de Lena and it was fantastic. On the bus on the way there I knew the exact moment that I was crossing the border from Castilla y León to Asturias because of the drastic change in scenery.
I swear every time I head north my heart starts palpitating at the exact same location: where the green peaks of Cantabrian mountain range burst forth from the dry Castilian plains. It gets me every time; it's like going home.When I arrived to Pola, after having to argue with the bus driver that I indeed had a ticket to a small village stop (looks like living in Valladolid is paying off after all-- not so difficult to "ponerme dura" anymore haha), Juan was waiting for me at the bus stop (and of course I was the only one to get off the bus after drawing all that attention to myself. Typical). When I saw Juan I couldn't believe it-- he's a man!-- a beard growing, cigarette smoking, drum playing, psychology studying man. I hadn't seen him in nearly four years since he wasn't around for my last visit-- off playing with his rock band in Portugal and all. It's funny because as he is the youngest sibling and was 12 years old when I met him, for me he will always be a bratty adolescent. I had a lot fun chatting with him over coffee on Saturday morning (after three hours of sleep following a late night out with his brother-- more on that later) and while waiting for the bus back to V-town. He's turned into to such a wonderful young man.
I arrived just in time for lunch and sat down to eat with Marta's family like I was one of them, like not a day had passed since I last saw them, like always. After some lovely conversation about that last months I went to hang out with Carlos and Juan at their band's practice since Marta had to study.
Their group is awesome! They play kind of heavy metal/ska fusion, incorporating elements of traditional Asturian music such as bagpipes, which makes for a really cool sound. After a few hours of hanging out with the guys my ears were nearly bleeding and we headed to Marta's hang out, Café Lino, to meet up with her and her friends before dinner. I absolutely love going there because I know everyone. It's like Cheers, seriously. I've never been to a place where after seven years you walk in and "everybody knows your name." We had a lot of good laughs as usual and then after dinner I was handed over to my babysitter, Carlos, to take me out for a night on the town with his friends (since I can never be alone in Pola de Lena, you know lol. God forbid anything happen to me). Anyway, who would have thought that sweet little Carlos would grow up to be such a bad influence? I joke, but really, it's seems like there's not a night I head out with he and his buddies that I'm home before 5 am.
Since I'm used to getting up early for school I was wide awake by 9 o'clock and feeling a little under the weather. But not too much to be any less excited for a trip to coastal city of Gijón
with Marta and her mom and dad to see her Grandma and other relatives. It was the first time I had seen Marta's Grandma in 4 years and the truth is she hasn't changed a bit. She is 92 years old (!!) and still kicking. She is such a character, I swear. "Vaya carácter que tienes!" she said about me (like, "what a good-nature/strong character you have"). I was happy to hear that my Spanish 'abuela' was pleased with how I've turned out.
I also got to see Marta's aunt and uncle who I love so much and since the last time I'd seen them have traveled to the United States. I'm happy to report they were delighted with the US, especially Chicago (of course)! The highlight of the day was definitely going out to dinner with Marta's cousin, Angela.
If I freaked out about how much Juan had changed, then she took the cake. Last time I saw her she was 11 going on 12. Now she is 16 going on 25 and in full blown teenage angst-- into boys, clothes, make-up and going out. She gabbed away to Marta and I about school and her social life in gory detail. I should have met up with her right when I got here to be able to better relate to my students!
Speaking of my students-- I'm done at Ribera de Castilla! I officially finished my Ministry internship yesterday (I'll still be in Valladolid until the end of the month working at the academy). A year of teaching high school is over and I honestly don't know what to think. I feel bad saying this but I'm not sad to leave. I had a decent time; it was a great experience, and now it's time to move on. The kids, who gave me a pretty hard time all year might I add (never wanting to speak English or do anything in class) of course turned out to be sweethearts in the end, getting me cards and flowers and a variety of going away presents, including a really sweet poem. The poem was from a particularly troublesome class of seventh graders. I say troublesome because apart from the fact that nearly all of them are failing not only English but most of 7th grade, this is a group of kids who, it's obvious, has a lot of problems outside school too. They wrote me a going away poem that I swear will stay in my heart forever. Their sad attempt to translate it into English was completely hilarious and endearing, but what sticks with me is what they wanted to say:
Katie,
tu sabiduría es todo
tu bondad es infinita,
la enseñanza es a tu modo
y de seguro es muy bonita
Tú enseñas al ignorante,
al que te pide enseñanza
aunque sea algún vagante
que no tiene ninguna esperanza
Tú no haces diferencia
entre el rico y el pobre
tú quieres darle la herencia
de saber escribir su nombre
Tú que nos enseñaste
que nos diste tu amistad
tú que nos respetaste
con una grande igualdad
Hoy que por fin terminamos
te tenemos que dejar,
nos vamos con una herida
no te vamos a olvidar
From this I gathered the biggest thing they took away from my time with them was that I taught them with equality, not paying attention to who was rich or poor, who was an immigrant and who was not, who was a gitano (gypsy) and who was not and that by treating them with respect I made a difference in their lives. That was the greatest gift of all.
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