How Far I've Come

Lately,(and by lately I mean for the past two months or so) I have been attempting to just keep track of what has been happening with me here. It seems once I find the time to really concentrate on writing, something changes, and then I have to rework everything that I expected to communicate. Finally I feel like things have come to a still point and I feel like I can communicate what I have been wanting to to all my friends and family. So here it is: the update.

Living here has been an experience like any other. This time around, my journey has been probably about ten times more intense than anything my Californian classmates are experiencing. You can only imagine what I mean by this. Even though this is my second time around, the number of things I have discovered about myself and this crazy place I have been living in have doubled, tripled, and quadrupled. I have managed to immerse myself almost completely. While other Californians in my program have branched out and met a new friend from UC Santa Barbara when they are from UC San Diego, and stay in their comfort zone only hanging out with each other,and going to the same burger joint where the waiters speak English I was going out an talking to every technical director of every gym possible begging them to hire me, performing in oriental cabarets, shouting fitness cues in Spanish, and dancing with the 9 pairs of aunts and uncles and 25 first cousins of my boyfriend in two different weddings. So, yes this is what I have been doing.

The experience that has overwhelmingly characterized my journey this time has been that of Worldanz. First off, for the past two and a half months I have been teaching at two different gyms, Monday Wednesday, and Friday. The Monday Wednesday gym has been paying me 13 euros/hr, and the Friday gym compensated me by giving me the membership free, along with an English teaching job, but we'll talk about that later. After getting these two jobs, I went and tried to get hired by the two biggest and most well known gyms here to get more press for the class. I went to the first one, called Yodiez on a Tuesday morning dressed in my work out clothes, walked up to the desk, and asked to speak with the technical director about teaching. By this time I had already got over the nervousness of talking with my potential bosses in Spanish and had already taught my first class, so I felt like I was on top of the world. The two very skinny blond women in the front desk working in their palace were apparently opposed to me feeling this way .One of them told me to come back in three hours, and when I did the other one told me very annoyed that he still wasn't here and that I would have to WAIT in the WAITING room, telling me almost as if it were a feat that no human has yet accomplished. Well I did it ladies, I waited 40 more minutes for the king of the palace to show up. Dario, a young guy probably still in his 20's told me that he only had a two hour space for me in a certain room 4 days of the week. This would have been perfect but the hours were 11-2 and I had class at the University at this time every day, and had passed the date to where I would be able to change my schedule. He told me to call him if anything changed, and I said okay kicking myself on the way out for choosing to take my church in society class, the worst class ever instead of getting to teach at the palace. I went to the other big gym with high hopes as well, only to be told over the phone by the technical director that she had absolutely no space for me and would call me when she did. The thing is is that everything happens for a reason. For example if I had chosen different classes and had been able to teach at the palace, one of the two blond skinny robots could have killed me with here death laser stare as I walked into work one day, and then I wouldn't be here today. (At least this is what I try to tell myself when I try to fall asleep at night.)

I decided to stick with the two gyms that had accommodated me from the very beginning. The owners have been very nice with me from the get go, but even though I have classes the process of getting students has been a roller coaster. For some reason I thought preparing the music, and the dances, and memorizing things would be the hardest part of the whole thing, which I have come to discover has been the easiest part. The trick is getting students. The thing is that a huge dance aerobics revolution hasn't hit here yet. I'm living in a world where there is no such thing as 80's dressed jazzercisers or zumba moms dressed like skittles. This has been an advantage because I was able to get a class really fast, but sometimes has been a disadvantage since, if people don't know what it is they are exceedingly hesitant to try it. I'm living in a world where the men always stay with the weights and the women still choose to do squats and step aerobics for an hour rather than something new and different. The majority of people who have come to my class have told me they love it, and I get to see them fairly regularly. There have been some people, however that have told me that the class is too hard physically, that there is too much jumping and they sweat to much, and then I'm like, in my head WHY DID YOU JOIN A GYM DERRR, while in reality I have to tell them to not be timid, to modify whenever possible, and to keep trying. Promoting this class has been like promoting a business. I talk to everyone I know about the class, when I'm at the gym I go up to people and ask if they've tried it, I put up posters, I ask if my customers are satisfied, if they would like me to change or add anything. Sometimes I have a lot of people come, and sometimes I am my only customer, and these days I have to pack up my music, take a deep breath, give myself a pat on the shoulder, and walk out with pride. The truth is is that I love doing it. I love teaching, but even the things you love aren't always easy and smooth sailing. You must persevere!

My vacations in “El Valle de Los Pedroches”: the comforts of home ,the stares of old men, and my big fat Spanish wedding

My first impression....

In the past two months I have been lucky enough to have a five day break from classes in March as well as a 10 day break in April for Semana Santa, the holy week. Since I had the time during these breaks, I made my way to the hometown of Francisco to spend time with him and his family in Pozoblanco, the biggest town in the north of Cordoba. The town is most renown for its milk, from the company Covap, and of course for its pigs, which are said to produce the finest jamon in all of Spain.

To get to Pozoblanco I have to take two buses, one from Granada to Cordoba, and the other from Cordoba to Pozoblanco. In my first trip from Cordoba, I sat next to Francisco's best friend Andres (as well as every other University student returning to their hometown during their vacations), who unfortunately had to deal with my purging of nerves during the entire trip there. What was I nervous about? Meeting my boyfriend's family for the first time of course! (And hoping that I had a good enough grasp of the language in order to communicate with them.) From the bus, Pozoblanco appeared as a splotch of white on the countryside of oak trees, grass, cows, sheep, and PIGS.

When the bus pulled into the station Andres and I were greeted by my favorite smiling face, Francisco, so beginning my first experience in a small Andalusian town. You can't get more of an immersion experience than this University of California!

The meeting of the parents commenced when, after picking me up from the bus station we greeted them in the kitchen after they returned from their daily mass. After meeting them, the immediate viewing of all the family photos began, with Francisco's father narrating every one of them in the loudest, clearest Spanish he could conjure. They cooked a wonderful dinner for all of us to celebrate my arrival, and of course ended up being very nice and loving people, and not fire breathing dragons as I thought in during the bus ride over. Francisco's father even told me I looked and dressed like a Spanish girl (which I'm guessing was a compliment), but asked Francisco later why I didn't wear high heels :) That night Francisco and I decided to take a walk so he could show me parts of the town, which coincided with meeting more of his family. The thing about Pozoblanco is that, as Francisco's best friend says half the town is Francisco's cousin. We stepped out of his piso, walked 20 ft, and ran into one of his cousins with his friends. As we continued onto one of the main streets we ran into his aunt and uncle. As we walked a little more, we ran into another cousin with her friend, and a little more after that that same cousin's twin sister within five more minutes. (All of this occurred within 30 minutes by the way). (The next day when we decided to running we ran into another uncle, another cousin with his girlfriend, and were told by one of his other uncles that he saw us running in his car.)

The next day Francisco's parents left to spend their vacations in Malaga on the beach, so we decided to do some tourism in the Valle de Los Pedroches. Our first stop was the town Los Pedroches, a town which has existed before the Romans and one in which I think has about 10 inhabitants. As we walked along one of its bustling streets, talking and laughing, the one or two old men sharing the street with us not so discreetly turned their heads 360 degrees to stare at us. “You are not from here”, they thought. Then....all of a sudden..... we heard a creak.... a door opening.... and turned to see a little old head with a puff of white hair peering out their door to get a peak at us. It stayed there, pretending we didn't see it. We walk 20 more feet...still there...20 more...still there. We walked until the head was a speck...still there! I guess watching Francisco and I walk up a street has the equivalent excitement of watching a resurrected Jesus do back flips because honestly, that is what I felt like.

After visiting a few more towns we made our way to Hinojosa del Duque, where Francisco's grandmother and aunt currently live. (Francisco's dad asked them to come in live in Pozoblanco so they could be closer to him, but his aunt said they wanted to live in a town, not a big city like Pozoblanco.....) They showed me the house, (which has a collection of books from the 1700s) and guided us around the town and were two of the sweetest women I have ever met. It was a great way to end our day of tourism in the towns in the north of Cordoba.

Our following days in Pozoblanco were much more relaxed, spending time with Francisco's friends, making food, and taking walks through the town, which proved to be a nice, more low key contrast to the next time I would returning three weeks later.

My second impression, the wedding...

Three weeks later I returned to Pozoblanco during Semana Santa for the wedding of Francisco's second oldest brother, Enrique. (Francisco has three brothers,Jose, Antonio, and Enrique. Enrique was the only one I hadn't met before). He had his wedding during Semana Santa because he works and lives in Uruguay now, and because the next time he would be coming back to Pozoblanco would be in Christmas, the wedding would have to be in April. I call this experience my big fat Spanish wedding because the entire week consisted of constantly eating, drinking, and meeting the rest of Francisco's huge family. (His mother is one of 9 so he has 8 pairs of aunts and uncles, and around 25 first cousins.) (Also his mother is named Ana, along with 7 other of his girl cousins.)

After spending the weekend before Semana Santa in the youngest of his aunt's houses in the country close to the city of Jaen we made our way to Pozoblanco with her oldest daughter...Ana..and arrived that afternoon. We got there, greeted his parents, said goodby to Ana, ate, and made our way to his friend Andres's house for the merienda (the after siesta meal you eat between lunch and dinner.) We bought some cakes along the way for a gift, because it was Andres's birthday and arrived at his family's piso only to be greeted by his parents, aunt, cousins, and two grandma's. Along with the cakes we bought, Andres's mom made two cakes herself, which weren't rich at all (that's a lie). It was a merienda buffet ahhhhh. After spending time there we made our way to Andres and Francisco's friend Jose Maria's house, and there were greeted by Jose Maria, his mother, his sister, and his grandmother. As I said, I was having the true Spanish immersion experience. We had dinner that night with Francisco's parents,brothers, and his very pregnant sister-in-law(along with occasional aunts and uncles dropping by the piso to say hello). Day number one of my big fat Spanish wedding was complete.

The second day was the official wedding in the court of Pozoblanco followed by a lunch in a local hotel. The wedding in the court would only include the close family of the soon to be husband and wife, and two close friends of theirs, (which still ended up being over 20 people.)We didn't have to wake up until 9:30, but with the sound of doors slamming, ironing, and hurried voices that began at 7:30 that was a long lost dream. The next hour was a blur. From what I remember it was just a series of people, me included whizzing by with suits, jackets, hair brushes and tooth brushes, as well as the non stop noise of the shower. The last thing I remember is that I somehow was dressed and Francisco's father was clapping joyfully because I was wearing high heels.

Francisco and I left earlier than everybody to pick up his aunt and grandmother in Hinojosa del Duque, a town that is about a 20 minute drive from Pozoblanco. We made our way to the courthouse with his poor little grandmother expressing how she couldn't understand how people could get married without marrying in the Catholic church. This is Spain babay! The ceremony passed by quickly, and immediately after the entire family made their way to the restaurant. The lunch began with a salad which was there waiting for everybody, and before anyone had time to put one piece of lettuce in their mouth, the floods of pork came a rushing. I know what you're thinking, Johanna at a table full of pork, what was she to do? The truth was, I wasn't worried because after the 5 or 6 plates of pork that were put on the table, the waiter came to the table and handed out menus. So, at the end of the lunch when everyone else left the restaurant almost pregnant, I was smooth sailing!

The next day was the ceremony part of the wedding and followed somewhat the same pattern. We woke up early with the same blur of people bustling around the piso, with the same amount of combined excitement and chaos. We rushed out the door dressed and ready and piled into a car. The ceremony took place in huge country home in a nearby town with a an enormous banquet hall for a wedding. Driving up to the house on the dirt road we could see the oak trees spread out on the countryside with various farm animals roaming around and feeding. The clouds above were dark, forshadowing the rain that would follow. In the beginning of May in the south of Spain it was freezing, and as we waited for the bride and groom to do their thing, while more of Francisco's family piled into the courtyard, it began to rain. The ceremony was beautiful, but it really seemed as if no one was paying any attention; one because of the weather, and two because really, the couple had officially been married the day before, so the listening of the continuous love prose didn't seem to interest the Garcias very much. When it ended, everyone made their way into the banquet hall to begin the eating contest that apparently is characteristic of Spanish weddings. It was a foodie's dream.

The eating began with selected wines and beers followed by the “tapas” or appetizers. I was thinking about the best way to describe the food that was present at the party, and the only thing I could think of is if you imagine if you were to “wikipedia” Spanish Cuisine, and then about twenty different foods are listed on the page. Well, about 16 of these things were served to us. Three different types of croquetas, jamon iberico, cheese, anchovies, pickled eggplant, two different types of gazpacho; I really think the only thing that was missing was a 20ft wide pot of paella being cooked right in the middle of the party. After this came the lunch, (and no I'm not joking) which consisted of about 9 different plates preceding the main course and then desert. The majority of these had pork, but the fact that I don't eat pork seemed to be a blessing because I, unlike everyone else was still left with the ability to stand up after the meal. Two hours later a variety of different pastries were put out, and three hours after that came the “redinner.” It was very convenient, actually because during the four/five hours of dancing and music that took place, if you stopped for three seconds and felt the sensation of wanting to put something in your mouth, there was a big plate of fried fish right next to you, so you could do it.

The dancing, of course was my favorite part of the wedding. Francisco's brother Enrique, and his wife have a huge passion for music, so they hired a really fun rock band from Granada to come play live and had preselected a good number of songs to party hard to. Towards the end, Francisco and his brother dressed up as the blues brothers and did the dance from the movie for the family. It was so adorable! At the end of the night, after a full day of eating, dancing, and drinking from an open bar, I collapsed into bed, and slept a good 13 hours. Ahh and there it was: my first Spanish wedding!