A problem…

October 16, 2016October 17, 2016 / helenstasa / 2 Comments

I’m not too sure if anyone remembers my previous blog, where I wrote about a particular issue that I kept experiencing in Sydney, namely, people assuming (wrongly) that I am a lesbian.

I had expected that when I came to Madrid that this issue would dissipate. (I should add a disclaimer here that I am not, in any way, unhappy to be mistaken as being a lesbian. If I was one, I would be delighted! But the problem is that I am not, but people seem to believe that I am, and I honestly don’t know why).

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Case in point. The other day, I was catching the Metro to my school, when a lady sat down opposite me. There was lots of space in the carriage that day, but I didn’t really care. However, as the journey went on, I became aware that she was watching me. Very, very closely. I looked up, and she smiled at me. So I smiled back. Then she raised her eyebrows at me, invitingly. I didn’t know what to do here, so I smiled away. She kept looking, and raising her eyebrows, until I realised that she was trying to make a move, and I looked away.

Then, tonight, I went to a conversation exchange meet up. I was talking with an attractive English lady, and in the course of the evening, no less than three men came up to her and offered their numbers. They totally ignored me. It was as if I was a non-person. The only person who came to talk to me was a lady who declared herself to be (you guessed it) interested in other ladies.

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Look, I am flattered. I love that people are interested! But I honestly don’t understand WHY! Why do some people seem to assume that I am a lesbian, when I’m not? Is it my hair? My clothes? My general attitude? Some other inaccurate cliched idea? I honestly don’t know, but it’s fascinating that the same thing seems to happen in Spain as in Australia.

I’m not upset by this, but I would love to know what it is that I’m doing that is repelling the men, and attracting the ladies! Any ideas very welcome 🙂

My Saturday excursion

October 15, 2016 / helenstasa / Leave a comment

(Today’s blog post is a bit different, as I realised that I am taking lots of photos but then not writing about them! So I had to address that…).

Last week, when I was haunting the tourist info centre in search of exciting places to go, I picked up a brochure about Miguel Cervantes, the author of Don Quixote. I read Don Quixote last year (it took me FOREVER), and although I wouldn’t say it’s my favourite book ever, historically, it is very interesting, and Don Quixote’s escapades are endearing in a way (he’s also incredibly annoying, and numerous times, I almost gave up on the book as he did yet another ridiculous thing).

Don Quixote and his squire, Sancho Panza

Cervantes was born in a town called Alcalá de Henares, 30 kilometres from the centre of Madrid, and the house he was born in has been turned into a museum. So today, as I wasn’t doing anything, I decided to go on a little excursion there.

I walked to Atocha, the central train station, then caught the first service to Alcalá de Henares.

This is the corner of my street, Calle de Santa Engracia

Statue outside Alcala de Henares station, commemorating the victims of the Atocha railway bombing

I then walked up to the Cervantes birthplace museum, getting somewhat lost along the way (it wouldn’t be a proper excursion without at least one moment of blind panic that I don’t know where I am).

Bedroom

Cool light

The surgery

Courtyard

The inside of the house was really interesting, as they had set it up so that it was just like it would have been when Cervantes was born in 1547. It was particularly intriguing to see the room which was set up like a doctor’s surgery, as Cervantes’ dad used to run a medical clinic, specialising in “blood letting” (not too sure what this involved, but it doesn’t sound particularly pleasant).

Afterwards, I had to pose for my obligatory tourist shot with the Don Quixote and Sancho Panza statues. (Random observation- it seems like statues which you can pose with are quite popular in Spain. There was a big queue lining up for these ones, so I had to sneak in quickly, thrusting my camera at some friendly fellow tourists as I did so).

I then wandered around the rest of the town, which has some very impressive architecture.

Then I caught the train back to Atocha, and walked home again.

Seriously, how amazing are the buildings? These were opposite the Retiro Park.

Overall, it was a really good day, and now I can say that I’ve seen the birthplaces of both Federico García Lorca and Miguel Cervantes. Maybe I should do a Spanish literary birthplaces pilgrimage?

Why are Spanish people so good looking?

October 14, 2016October 14, 2016 / helenstasa / 2 Comments

Call me superficial. Call me pathetic. Call me whatever you want, but one thing which became readily apparent to me in the first five minutes of arriving in Spain is that almost everyone here seems to be incredibly attractive.

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Both men and women look like they’ve come from some sort of fashion show, despite the fact that it’s 7am in the morning, and most ordinary mortals look like me (namely, ruffled, crumpled, and a complete mess).

I think part of it may be because the Madrileños know how to dress well. The women have perfectly fitting jeans and always look as if they’ve just come out of a hairdresser. And the men are able to wear coloured pants without looking as if they’ve failed an audition for the circus.

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What’s particularly interesting is that even though it’s getting cold, and they’re wearing loads of layers of clothing, they still manage to look incredibly sexy.

This just isn’t fair!

I used to think “Wow, Elena Anaya is so beautiful!” (I was going to put Penélope Cruz, but I think Elena Anaya is more attractive) and “Antonio Banderas looked really good in that film” (I know, I know, Antonio Banderas, lots of people don’t think he’s good looking, but for some reason, I do). However, since coming to Spain, I have come to realise that the vast majority of the population look like Elena or Antonio WITHOUT EVEN TRYING!

Elena Anaya

Antonio Banderas

There is simply no justice in this world.

But the most bizarre part of the whole thing is that one teacher at my school seems to think that I am the Australian Elena Anaya equivalent (I WISH!). She keeps telling me that my eyes are “sooooo pretty” (because they’re light in colour), that my hair is “soooooo curly” (I haven’t seen anyone with hair as curly as mine yet), and that my Spanish is “sooooooooo funny” (not sure if this is meant as praise or an insult).

I DO NOT look like this!

I think this teacher needs to book an urgent appointment at her optometrist, as her glasses clearly aren’t strong enough. Or maybe it’s simply the case that people tend to find difference attractive? Who knows? There’s probably a PhD in this for someone, and let me just say, I definitely think that investigating differences in attractiveness around the world would be much more interesting than a lot of other PhDs…

Any takers?

The good, the bad, and the ugly

October 13, 2016 / helenstasa / 2 Comments

Well, today was a bit of a mixed bag, you could say (that’s putting it mildly). Here’s some of the highlights…and the lowlights…

The good

The Year 1 English class was replaced by a lesson in road safety from a local policemen. It was particularly amusing when the policeman asked the kids whether any of their parents broke the road rules, and about half of them put up their hands. He then pretended to jot down all the names, and said he’d visit their houses to arrest them. The kids loved this.

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I had class with my two favourite students, Camilla and Fernanda. They are both 5 years old, and so, so cute. Camilla wears huge purple glasses, and doesn’t speak a word of English, but chatters at me incessantly in Spanish. She loves showing me her sliding across the floor moves, which she thinks are particularly impressive. She also seems to get a perverse satisfaction when I say “No, Camilla! That’s so dangerous!” This causes her to grin away madly, with obvious delight. Fernanda speaks a bit more English, and is absolutely obsessed wtih my appearance. She always wants to touch my necklaces, and sits there and intones “You are so beautiful” throughout the class. This is excellent for the self-esteem.
One of the Year 2 students gave me a present. It was a beautiful flag (???) he had made. I’m not too sure what I’ll do with it, but it was a nice thought!

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The other Year 1 class were learning about Red Riding Hood, and I got to use the Big Bad Wolf puppet to act out the story with the teacher. This was surprisingly enjoyable, particularly as I could be ask nasty as possible, and say that I was “getting in character.”

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The bad

Some of the kids got a little bit too “caught up in the action” with the Big Bad Wolf puppet, and thought he was actually attacking and eating Red Riding Hood. One boy got quite viscious, and tried to pull off the wolf’s legs in order to save Red Riding Hood. Unfortunately, the wolf puppet was pretty badly made, and now one of its legs is hanging by a thread. I hope no one notices that next time…
I have blue and green plasticine embedded under my fingernails after spending 45 minutes helping the children make models of the world. I can’t seem to get it out now.

The ugly

Things went TOTALLY pear-shaped in the Year 5 science class. They were having an in class quiz, which the teacher and I were supervising. Most of the kids clearly hadn’t studied, and kept putting up their hands to ask questions, which the teacher tried to deflect. When she had to leave the room, the kids turned to me, and began asking, then started talking to each other. I told them to stop talking. They pretended they didn’t understand. So I told them in Spanish to stop talking. This caused an uproar. “SHE SPEAKS SPANISH!!!!!” they shrieked, and began yelling at me anew. In desperation, I decided to move the two cheekiest students, but then the teacher came back, lost it completely, and screamed that the class were the worst students in the history of bad students.

Want to know what the class was like? Multiply this by 5 (there’s 25 students) and that’s an indication

All I can say is, thank goodness for my 3.5 day week!