Job interview yesterday. Three responses so far to an ad I put in mundo anuncio, a classified online thing. I was aiming for individuals, but two of the responses so far have been businesses: and academy and a company wanting in house training.
Basically the situation is this: there is a demand for my services as English teacher here. I could have had at least 3 jobs last fall, except for work permit issues. Two had been desperate. I am better qualified than some of my friends or acquaintances who teach: I have experience and am (almost) certified, whereas I don't actually know anyone personally, who is certified, yet they all have jobs.
Also, I do not have even a remote chance of work like this at home: to work at a "decent" job in Canada I would have to return to physics lab teaching which I will simply not do (besides, there are only a few colleges and the position I left is filled). In Vancouver is it not possible to teach ESL without a degree in English, often a Masters, plus the other certification. The wages are not good for Vancouver, either. This is not saying that I won't come home if it seems like the best idea. It just means I will be working in a cafe or freelancing at something.
Irony.
I took a trip to the oficina de extranjeros this morning instead of going to the studio. I stood in the long line up and went through the new x-ray machine they have installed, so I could ask what I already knew online, but thought perhaps might be different or more relaxed if I went in person, seeing as how an amiga did that and it sounded less complicated than what officially was written. Not so.
I decided to stop on the way back for a chance to sit in the sun. It is often warmer outdoors than in. The weather has been back and forth - warm to cold. I stopped in Barrio Santa Cruz, the tourist area, and asked beforehand how much the cup of coffee would cost me there. A very friendly Brazilian waitress who charged me 25 centimos less in the end, advised me that I should go work in Brazil, and even wrote down on my newpaper the city: Rio del Norte. I could barely understand her Spanish.
Yesterday I went late in the day to the studio, since I had the interview in the morning. I practiced in studio C, instead of A, as at that hour someone was scheduled in A and B. No one came, however, which makes me think that I am the most faithful practicer, besides perhaps Sachiko, using that studio, as the same thing happens in the morning. All the clocks in the studio run on some different conception of time, I suppose. Often time has stopped entirely, but it will randomly begin again when the clock happens to feel like starting up. I have really never seen clocks like this and am surprised that several of them exist in one location.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
Smoke, smoke, missing lighters, tables and more tables
Despite Rocio being brusque and slightly on the bossy side, she has made the kitchen and "living room", if it can be called one, a bit more homey. She finally insisted on installing an Andalucian heating system: a blanket over the kitchen table. Me da igual - it's equal to me/I don't care. Having to be stuck at the kitchen table when I am at home in order to keep warm is almost pointless. I live in my inherited puffy jacket. All day, all night.
Anyways, today the readout on the dash of the taxi said 18 degrees. Yesterday and the day before he told me it had been reading 2 or 3. I now have a very large tilting table in this place that I am still feeling uncomfortable in. I should have taken the apartment in Triana, from where the girl who sold it me was leaving. It was bright, big, nice and with nice girls. Concha thinks that smoking in her room will solve the problem. I still haven't had a chance to tell her the only way that it will work is if she opens the window to let the smoke out. (How I hate to ask that of someone... if she has any problem with doing it, which she very well may, then I need to leave.) What an awful, awkward situation. I don't want to be demanding of such a nice person. I go in my room and close the door(s) when I am here. They have to remain as closed as they can, which isn't very closed, being two very funky old half-doors that are warped at the top, with a large space at the bottom, and no proper handle to close them. From the inside there is a lame latch. I stuff bags under the doors at night.
My intuition is always wrong, it seems. At least when it comes to living arrangements. All my life I have been taught to trust it. It cannot be trusted, evidently. I think I should hire someone else to choose the correct place for me next time.
Salome, a dancer friend from Vancouver here for a couple months has a worse place though. She asked me for tips finding places here. I did my best but I couldn't really help her in the end. She found this place with a literally crazy Russian lady who controls everything, doesn't let her have an extra blanket or heating, even after her brother went back to Costa Rica, and there obviously is an extra blanket. It was nice to have her visit yesterday. She brought wraps, tea and coffee, beer and even lemon to put in it. I told her she didn't have to bring all this, and she says, "I am a mother, you know!" We sat in the dark "living room" while Rocio blasted the TV with "Dead Man Walking" dubbed in Spanish of course, and Salome and I tried not to cry about Sean Penn about to be electrocuted or whatever barbaric thing they do to them. It was cold in the dark "living room" and Concha had taken away the lighter (needed for the stove) to her room and appeared to be gone to sleep. So I made a note to buy my own lighter and keep it in secret reserve, and we didn't have anything else hot to drink but went and talked flamenco sitting on my bed, huddled up to the heater. It all feels very starving artist. How many times have I said it already? - the standard of living here is not equal to that at home... that is, if it is measured in heat and hot water, fitting doors, and toilet seats and shower heads that actually stay where they belong. At least Concha is an adult with a job and feels like she can afford to leave on the pilot light of the gas hot water heater. Still, it takes too long to wait until the water is heated up to have warm water to wash your hands in every time you actually need it. Chilblains.
I must try to remember what the heck my "heart" really cares about and try to concentrate on that. Sometimes I don't know though.
Hmmm... at least I have two tables. What luxury. You should see my huge drafting table!
Anyways, today the readout on the dash of the taxi said 18 degrees. Yesterday and the day before he told me it had been reading 2 or 3. I now have a very large tilting table in this place that I am still feeling uncomfortable in. I should have taken the apartment in Triana, from where the girl who sold it me was leaving. It was bright, big, nice and with nice girls. Concha thinks that smoking in her room will solve the problem. I still haven't had a chance to tell her the only way that it will work is if she opens the window to let the smoke out. (How I hate to ask that of someone... if she has any problem with doing it, which she very well may, then I need to leave.) What an awful, awkward situation. I don't want to be demanding of such a nice person. I go in my room and close the door(s) when I am here. They have to remain as closed as they can, which isn't very closed, being two very funky old half-doors that are warped at the top, with a large space at the bottom, and no proper handle to close them. From the inside there is a lame latch. I stuff bags under the doors at night.
My intuition is always wrong, it seems. At least when it comes to living arrangements. All my life I have been taught to trust it. It cannot be trusted, evidently. I think I should hire someone else to choose the correct place for me next time.
Salome, a dancer friend from Vancouver here for a couple months has a worse place though. She asked me for tips finding places here. I did my best but I couldn't really help her in the end. She found this place with a literally crazy Russian lady who controls everything, doesn't let her have an extra blanket or heating, even after her brother went back to Costa Rica, and there obviously is an extra blanket. It was nice to have her visit yesterday. She brought wraps, tea and coffee, beer and even lemon to put in it. I told her she didn't have to bring all this, and she says, "I am a mother, you know!" We sat in the dark "living room" while Rocio blasted the TV with "Dead Man Walking" dubbed in Spanish of course, and Salome and I tried not to cry about Sean Penn about to be electrocuted or whatever barbaric thing they do to them. It was cold in the dark "living room" and Concha had taken away the lighter (needed for the stove) to her room and appeared to be gone to sleep. So I made a note to buy my own lighter and keep it in secret reserve, and we didn't have anything else hot to drink but went and talked flamenco sitting on my bed, huddled up to the heater. It all feels very starving artist. How many times have I said it already? - the standard of living here is not equal to that at home... that is, if it is measured in heat and hot water, fitting doors, and toilet seats and shower heads that actually stay where they belong. At least Concha is an adult with a job and feels like she can afford to leave on the pilot light of the gas hot water heater. Still, it takes too long to wait until the water is heated up to have warm water to wash your hands in every time you actually need it. Chilblains.
I must try to remember what the heck my "heart" really cares about and try to concentrate on that. Sometimes I don't know though.
Hmmm... at least I have two tables. What luxury. You should see my huge drafting table!
Friday, February 3, 2012
Luis Moneo y Juan del Gastor at Torres Macarena.
Amazing traditional singing and guitar. Really traditional. Which means better, to me. Juan plays like his uncle, Diego del Gastor (guitar giant). Slow, simple, but with a subtle kind of energy like the best kind of traditional blues - like hot burning coals, not a roaring fire. The energy is contained, it is all deep down, not some hyper junk on the surface. If you aren't used to it and judge things based on technical prowess rather than feeling it, you might think it's boring or too simple. That is, until the energy builds and makes you take notice. Juan gets in a zone, playing a very simple riff, almost like he's meditating. Some of the best rock'n'roll was like this - simple but with soul.
Luis on the other hand has the classic flamenco voice. Kind of perfect. It's clear, you can even hear almost all of his letras and understand them. But he has queja (complaint) in his voice. Luis is El Torta's brother (I think, or relative, but looks like brother). He did a beautiful solea, an awesome siguiriyas and a stunning tonas (most serious and deep, a capella).
It is really cold today. I have been saved by Sachiko's friend who left a suitcase full of clothes stranded here in Spain for 2 years until finally she was forced to give them away. I am currently wearing a brown padded coat. It is on me almost all the time, even at night, as an extra blanket. Rocio, the new roommate, complained like crazy last night because there was no tablecloth on the kitchen table with a heater under it. I never noticed. Unless there is central heating it's all the same to me. We have heaters in our rooms. I am not sure about Rocio. I'm sure she'll be fine. She is a bit pesada ("heavy") though, like sticking her laptop in my face while I'm trying to fry some onions, because she can't get it connected to the internet. She expects me to somehow be able to figure it out better than her, with all these technical things written in Spanish that come up on her computer.
Today I bought a pair of proper scissors for my upcoming sewing projects. I also picked up yet more fabric - this time from the leftovers rack. It has huge polka dots and is the kind of stuff feria dresses get made out of except that it isn't enough to make a dress. It was very cheap so I will practice to see if a woven cotton that stretches in only one direction can work for a dance piece. The fabric store had an enormous lineup on a Thursday evening, and the atmosphere seemed high. I asked a woman browsing the remnant rack why there were so many people there - what was the special occassion. She said it is carneval season and people are probably buying stuff to disfrace (dress up, disguise themselves in costume). Entire families were there in the lineup which didn't really move, until they jumped me ahead of several guys with their kids.
Amazing traditional singing and guitar. Really traditional. Which means better, to me. Juan plays like his uncle, Diego del Gastor (guitar giant). Slow, simple, but with a subtle kind of energy like the best kind of traditional blues - like hot burning coals, not a roaring fire. The energy is contained, it is all deep down, not some hyper junk on the surface. If you aren't used to it and judge things based on technical prowess rather than feeling it, you might think it's boring or too simple. That is, until the energy builds and makes you take notice. Juan gets in a zone, playing a very simple riff, almost like he's meditating. Some of the best rock'n'roll was like this - simple but with soul.
Luis on the other hand has the classic flamenco voice. Kind of perfect. It's clear, you can even hear almost all of his letras and understand them. But he has queja (complaint) in his voice. Luis is El Torta's brother (I think, or relative, but looks like brother). He did a beautiful solea, an awesome siguiriyas and a stunning tonas (most serious and deep, a capella).
It is really cold today. I have been saved by Sachiko's friend who left a suitcase full of clothes stranded here in Spain for 2 years until finally she was forced to give them away. I am currently wearing a brown padded coat. It is on me almost all the time, even at night, as an extra blanket. Rocio, the new roommate, complained like crazy last night because there was no tablecloth on the kitchen table with a heater under it. I never noticed. Unless there is central heating it's all the same to me. We have heaters in our rooms. I am not sure about Rocio. I'm sure she'll be fine. She is a bit pesada ("heavy") though, like sticking her laptop in my face while I'm trying to fry some onions, because she can't get it connected to the internet. She expects me to somehow be able to figure it out better than her, with all these technical things written in Spanish that come up on her computer.
Today I bought a pair of proper scissors for my upcoming sewing projects. I also picked up yet more fabric - this time from the leftovers rack. It has huge polka dots and is the kind of stuff feria dresses get made out of except that it isn't enough to make a dress. It was very cheap so I will practice to see if a woven cotton that stretches in only one direction can work for a dance piece. The fabric store had an enormous lineup on a Thursday evening, and the atmosphere seemed high. I asked a woman browsing the remnant rack why there were so many people there - what was the special occassion. She said it is carneval season and people are probably buying stuff to disfrace (dress up, disguise themselves in costume). Entire families were there in the lineup which didn't really move, until they jumped me ahead of several guys with their kids.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Solea
I just discovered Concha on youtube dancing basically the same solea as what she taught me. Things are adjusted and rearranged, but I've learned most of the same moves. Her dancing is some of the very best. It starts slow. Like many good things - it is not hype nor show-offy. Wait and you see energy, not polished technical perfection or fancy-shmansy stuff.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=030ONissIgU
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=030ONissIgU
Have been working on resumes all evening. Finally I have someone who is able to offer me good advice on what people would be looking for here in Spain. I have added a graphic as a background - a manipulated photo I took of a flower. Concha told me I needed to put a photo right under my name - totally opposite of Canada; one is not supposed to ask for that as an employer, I believe (unless you are specifically hiring strip club chicas or something, I suppose).
Rice with whatever I had around to stick in it and red wine for vegetable matter - my cheap bottle that Rocio, the 2nd roommate who just moved in this afternoon, turned her nose up at. "Yes, but you can get other better stuff for E1.70! This is bad. She is about 50. Walked straight into my room with closed door. Introduced herself over again and looked out my window, then asked why I had chosen this (the bigger) room, as she thought she had scoped it out for herself. I believe I talked to Concha before she was around, or had decided for sure to move in.
Concha is a very gentle person, very caring and very nice. She was very sorry her smoking bothered me and attempted to smoke in her room with the door closed. I don't know if that will solve the problem, but we'll see. She works a lot from home, watches serials on TV to take a break (which she complains about saying how terrible they are but she knows half the actors and likes to just zone out and watch her friends). Concha has worked in Madrid for years and has a girlfriend from Galicia.
I am now off to see Juan del Gastor and Luis Moneo (the brother of a favorite singer - El Torta) at Pena Torres Macarena. Maybe a bad idea but I am going to dress up nice - in heels. Need to do something as I've been inside all day.
Rice with whatever I had around to stick in it and red wine for vegetable matter - my cheap bottle that Rocio, the 2nd roommate who just moved in this afternoon, turned her nose up at. "Yes, but you can get other better stuff for E1.70! This is bad. She is about 50. Walked straight into my room with closed door. Introduced herself over again and looked out my window, then asked why I had chosen this (the bigger) room, as she thought she had scoped it out for herself. I believe I talked to Concha before she was around, or had decided for sure to move in.
Concha is a very gentle person, very caring and very nice. She was very sorry her smoking bothered me and attempted to smoke in her room with the door closed. I don't know if that will solve the problem, but we'll see. She works a lot from home, watches serials on TV to take a break (which she complains about saying how terrible they are but she knows half the actors and likes to just zone out and watch her friends). Concha has worked in Madrid for years and has a girlfriend from Galicia.
I am now off to see Juan del Gastor and Luis Moneo (the brother of a favorite singer - El Torta) at Pena Torres Macarena. Maybe a bad idea but I am going to dress up nice - in heels. Need to do something as I've been inside all day.
Wolfing down comida but one large chicken thigh and polenta doesn't seem enough. Yesterday I started at a new studio 2 hours a day (and ran everywhere back and forth to move my stuff), and by evening I did not feel normal, so I went to Corte Inglés (the department store) and bought 3 chicken thighs, a salmon filet and a jar of pate (for the liver). Thank God Dr. Lee put me on spirulina, royal jelly and ginseng before I left. I missed them one day and felt awful.
The people at Oscar's bar would have good reason to think of me as "suitcase girl" - I don't know how many times I have rolled suitcases back and forth across the bridge since October; embarassingly many. Probably one good reason why Oscar doesn't seem very interested that I am back.
But as of yesterday I am no longer quite as unstable - at least I hope not. I was really happy when I came back and met Concha to get the keys (a different Concha - a photographer about my age). She was cool, as I had judged the first time I came. And the apartment has more light than I thought. She said, "Estoy contenta que has venido. Me cayaste bien." (I am content/happy you have come. You "fell well" to me - kind of equivalent to "you sit well with me".)
There is one somewhat large problem - she smokes. I thought it wouldn't be a problem because it is natural tobacco that she rolls herself (besides, she wants to quit). I have found this practically non-offensive, while the commercial kind I can hardly bear for a moment. Probably because it was well ventilated at Mara's place and at Homayoun's. But last night Concha was a smoking night owl, and my room door is two doors that don't close well. Maybe I can give her motivation to quit, but I don't know if that is really a good idea.
I am happy with my new studio. It is only 15E per month more than the old one but I can have 3 times as many hours. It isn't as nicely kept up - there are 3 adjoining studios, all a bit dusty and with beaten up floors, but the price is right. It also gives me a chance to go to a quiet part of Triana every day.
I cleaned the dust off the iron railings on my 6 inch balcony (no exaggeration!) and put a small, cheap potted plant there. At the moment - 2:30 in the afternoon, I've been airing the place out with the large balcony door wide open. During the height of day it is not too cold for that. I shall now have a siesta and worry about being clean and looking for work later on.
This place is an old building with very high ceilings and archways. It is not in wonderful repair, but not bad either. There is a dentist office below us, and we are on a narrow but somewhat important thoroughfare, as it is a one way street that curves around, giving motorists on a main artery nearby a chance to turn off and go in another direction, reaching another nearby (one way) artery. Thus it is much louder here than Sachiko's place, or Mara's along the river. It is near one good bar for getting molletes with tomate y aceite, although this morning when I went there, it seems they've stopped having proper molletes. Just beside the bar is a tiny church with one of the most interesting pasos during Semana Santa - an ancient hermandad (brotherhood) that has very interesting Jesus and Virgen Maria statues - this means I can see it from above, provided things work out here. On the other side of the bar is a very nice plaza always full of tables during eating hours, and backed by a pretty orange building and church. It is an absolutely central location, perhaps even better than being right near the cathedral, as it seems close to just about everywhere.
The people at Oscar's bar would have good reason to think of me as "suitcase girl" - I don't know how many times I have rolled suitcases back and forth across the bridge since October; embarassingly many. Probably one good reason why Oscar doesn't seem very interested that I am back.
But as of yesterday I am no longer quite as unstable - at least I hope not. I was really happy when I came back and met Concha to get the keys (a different Concha - a photographer about my age). She was cool, as I had judged the first time I came. And the apartment has more light than I thought. She said, "Estoy contenta que has venido. Me cayaste bien." (I am content/happy you have come. You "fell well" to me - kind of equivalent to "you sit well with me".)
There is one somewhat large problem - she smokes. I thought it wouldn't be a problem because it is natural tobacco that she rolls herself (besides, she wants to quit). I have found this practically non-offensive, while the commercial kind I can hardly bear for a moment. Probably because it was well ventilated at Mara's place and at Homayoun's. But last night Concha was a smoking night owl, and my room door is two doors that don't close well. Maybe I can give her motivation to quit, but I don't know if that is really a good idea.
I am happy with my new studio. It is only 15E per month more than the old one but I can have 3 times as many hours. It isn't as nicely kept up - there are 3 adjoining studios, all a bit dusty and with beaten up floors, but the price is right. It also gives me a chance to go to a quiet part of Triana every day.
I cleaned the dust off the iron railings on my 6 inch balcony (no exaggeration!) and put a small, cheap potted plant there. At the moment - 2:30 in the afternoon, I've been airing the place out with the large balcony door wide open. During the height of day it is not too cold for that. I shall now have a siesta and worry about being clean and looking for work later on.
This place is an old building with very high ceilings and archways. It is not in wonderful repair, but not bad either. There is a dentist office below us, and we are on a narrow but somewhat important thoroughfare, as it is a one way street that curves around, giving motorists on a main artery nearby a chance to turn off and go in another direction, reaching another nearby (one way) artery. Thus it is much louder here than Sachiko's place, or Mara's along the river. It is near one good bar for getting molletes with tomate y aceite, although this morning when I went there, it seems they've stopped having proper molletes. Just beside the bar is a tiny church with one of the most interesting pasos during Semana Santa - an ancient hermandad (brotherhood) that has very interesting Jesus and Virgen Maria statues - this means I can see it from above, provided things work out here. On the other side of the bar is a very nice plaza always full of tables during eating hours, and backed by a pretty orange building and church. It is an absolutely central location, perhaps even better than being right near the cathedral, as it seems close to just about everywhere.
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