North American Language and Culture Assistants: Application advice

As much as I want this blog to be a record of my adventures and misfortunes in Europe, I also want it to be helpful for potential North American Language & Culture Assistants who are drowning in questions about how everything works. To all ye applicants out there: The tales of mindblowing bureaucracy, late payments and the general lack of efficiency on the part of the Spanish government are all true, sadly. But the good news is, despite speculation that the dead-broke Spanish government would cut the auxiliars de conversacion program for next year, they haven't done so.

The application officially opens Jan. 8 (it opened in early November last year). You should start your application right now. Yesterday, actually. In the spirit of the season, I put together a nice list of application tips to help you on your way.

1. Don't expect to be placed in Andalucia, Valencia or Madrid
Because everyone wants to, and your odds just aren't that great. Not to say it can't happen, because it obviously does for hundreds of auxiliars every year, but hundreds of others end up in regions that they haphazardly listed as their third choice because they just knew they wouldn't end up there (I'm pointing to myself). I applied for Valencia first, inspired by photos of sun-soaked beaches and crazy parties. Then, because Andalucia, Valencia and Madrid are all in the same region group, and you can only choose one from each group, I put Cataluña, home to Barcelona, as my second choice. I listed Extremadura third, having never even heard of the place. Guess where I ended up?

Aw, Valencia.     Source

2. Don't expect to have a better or worse experience than your friend/cousin/brother/sorority sister did. 
Because it just doesn't work like that. There's so much variation between regions, schools and students. A friend who spent last year teaching in Madrid said her students were half-human, half jungle animals. I've heard of an auxiliar in a rural region whose students refused to participate because their parents were pig farmers, and they didn't think they needed English to take over the family farm (disclaimer: My dad's a farmer, and there's nothing wrong with wanting to take over the farm. But there is certainly something wrong with not wanting to learn.) I've heard stories of teachers practically bolting out of the room as soon as the auxiliar arrives, forcing the auxiliar to teach the class solo while the teacher has a café con leche in the breakroom. One of my friends is basically a live sound machine that only gets used when an English passage needs to be read. So keep all of that in mind.

This could be you.    Source

3. Don't expect the schools to follow the rules
Because they don't. According to the rules, auxiliars aren't replacement teachers, and we're only supposed to work 12 hours a week. We're assistants ("auxiliar" means assistant), but some schools treat auxiliars as teachers while the real teachers chat outside, presumably about their students' beast-like behavior. You may very well be teaching classes on your own. Fortunately, I've been placed in two schools that use me well but don't abuse me. Although I do teach full lessons by myself, the teachers are in the room with me in case I need them. I actually prefer it that way.

Best image that came up when I googled "clueless teacher."

 4. Start saving your money now
Because you'll need it. You'll likely work for two months or longer before getting paid. As I write this, it's late November, and I haven't received a dime. Apparently the auxiliars who applied through the British Council recently received an email saying they should get paid in December, but the date is thus far undetermined. I don't know what that means for we Americans. Fortunately, I anticipated this, and I have a cushion so that I can travel freely without obsessing over my dwindling funds (although I am still kind of obsessing over my dwindling funds). You'll need at least $3,000 to live and travel for the first two months if you want to do it right and eat more than ramen noodles.

Source

5. Read current and former auxiliars' blogs
Because you'll need their advice. Start here, although some of Liz the Young Adventuress's tangles with pissy Spanish funcionarios (government workers) will make you think twice about joining the mess. This blog outlines late payments and lies from the government. This one details lots of the quirks of Spanish culture from an American's perspective. I just stumbled up on this one today, but it looks like it's packed with useful tips and engaging writing.

6. Follow the application instructions 
Because you'll need them. Without them the application is downright nonsensical. Even with them the process is downright nonsensical but to a lesser degree. If you scroll toward the bottom of this page, you'll find a link to a "how to register online" document and a "program manual." Both of those are invaluable. But you'll likely still be confused.

Source

7. Only submit necessary documents
Because you want to work smarter, not harder. There's a lot of misinformation spread among auxiliars regarding what you do and do not need to send in with the application. Supposedly some things are going to change regarding this year's application. I can't confirm or deny that, but I can tell you that last year we didn't need to submit a background check or doctor's note with our program application (you do need a state or FBI check and a health clearance for your visa application if you get accepted, but WAIT TO GET THOSE!) I sent a background check from the city police and a health form because word on the street was that I needed to, even though the instructions didn't say I did. It turned out that I didn't need them. (Keep in mind I'm American and don't know how it works for auxiliars from other countries.)

8. Send in your application on Jan. 8
Because that's the first day you can do so for 2013/2014. Last year, the app opened Monday, Nov. 7, I believe. I started the application Nov. 8 and submitted it Nov. 11. I was applicant No. 642, meaning 641 people got location assignments before me because placements are first-come, first-serve. Submit the online portion before getting the letter of reference, if need be, because you can send that in later. Also, don't waste a lot of time filling in information about merits and work history because that stuff has no influence on your acceptance/rejection. Your application number is what matters, and you want a low one, so the sooner you apply, the better.

Source

9. Don't expect to find out where you're placed by the date the government gives you
Because the government doesn't adhere to deadlines. The application closed in March, and I believe we were told we'd get our placements in late April or early May. On May 22, I got an email saying I'd been accepted and placed in Extremadura, but I wasn't told specifically where. I had to accept my ambiguous placement as a prerequisite to getting more information. I accepted May 26 and was given the names and addresses of my schools June 5.

Source

10. You don't need to speak Spanish to teach English, but you should
Because this is Spain. Officially, auxiliars are supposed to have an intermediate level of Spanish, but many don't because our job is to speak English, after all. But being able to speak Spanish helps immensely at school when you're trying to make copies or find the restroom (although the restroom situation was a bit spotty for a while for me.)

11. Lastly, join the Facebook groups
Because it's good to commiserate together. You'll need a forum to curse the system and make a friend or two. This year's group for my region is Auxiliares de Conversacion 2012-2013 Extremadura, and yours will probably be named similarly. It's a valuable resource; I met one of my roommates on there.

So, that's that, applicants. Scared yet? Don't be. This program certainly has its want-to-pull-my-hair-out qualities, but putting up with the bad stuff has been worth it thus far, for me at least. I've had an amazing time teaching, learning and traveling, so realize you'll have to take the bad with the good.

Are you a current or past auxiliar with wisdom to add? Are you a potential applicant with lingering questions? Let me know in the comments section. 

Un saludo,
Teresa

Thoughts on Lisbon

As a quick disclaimer: I don’t pretend to speak with any authority on Lisbon’s worthiness as a tourist destination. My comments are based entirely on personal experience and my own perceptions of what I saw and did. I mean no offense to Portugal or anyone who loves the country, so let’s not get all "she doesn't know what she's talking about" on me.

I'll talk more about this market in a bit.

The best way I can explain Lisbon is “weird.” Since I got back from Lisbon, multiple Spaniards have told me that most people either love it or hate it, and that it´s necessary to go back a second time to confirm whether my gut was wrong the first time around. We´ll see if I ever make it back. But there are some beautiful spots, shown below. 

View from our hostel.

In early November, we had a “puente,” a government-sanctioned long weekend, and we wanted to get out of Spain for the sake of going to another country, really. My two female roommates and I had planned to rent a car and drive to Porto, Portugal, a northern port city known for its close ties with the Duero River and its wines, and then to Lisbon. Porto would´ve been a roughly six-hour drive, and it's about 3 1/2 hours or so from there to Lisbon. From Lisbon to Don Benito is about four hours. 

Porto looks like it would've been pretty awesome, no?  Source

As I mentioned in my Marbella post, I can´t drive a manual car, and neither can my Wisconsin roommate. When we saw how expensive it would be for our 23-year-old British roommate to drive (200 euros or more), our rental plans fell through. We were being snobbish and didn´t want to take the bus, thus making everything more difficult for ourselves. As it turned out, two of my roommate's friends (an auxiliar from France and another one from Oregon) had plans to travel to Lisbon and three open seats in the car, so Rachel (the Wisconsinite) and I hitched a ride with them.

I wish there would´ve been a Spanish fly on the wall to listen to our strange butchering of languages in the car. The French guy, Alex, speaks French, Portuguese, Spanish and English, in that order. Although Alex´s English is quite good, he´s more comfortable with Spanish. So, our plan was to speak Spanish most of the time so that we were all on a level playing field (by the end of the trip, that plan proved to be a bit idealistic because it's easier to default into English, but…). I'm sure our conversations would've been hilarious for a Spaniard to listen to. A lot of what we Americans said was translated literally from English, and I'm sure the same was true for Alex in French. Most of it probably really didn't make sense, but we understood. The music in the car was an eclectic mix of Spanish, English and French rap, rock and pop. 

Source

Lisbon is a tangle of steep, twisting streets. It's a miracle we made it anywhere by car, really. One street was a one-way. The next was pedestrian-only. Another was so narrow that I sucked in as we squeezed through, as if my girth had any effect on the size of the vehicle (it's like when a bird flies at your windshield and it's instinctual to duck.) Finding parking was a whole other challenge. We drove around for at least a half hour or more, scouring the streets for a spot large enough to accommodate Alex's tiny European car. No luck. Eventually we surrendered and paid 20 euros (about $26) to park. The following day, thankfully, Alex found a street spot and moved the car.

Hence the parking issues...    Source

We got into Lisbon on Friday evening, did a bit of wandering and sought a restaurant with proper Portuguese fare. Portuguese food is seafood, for the most part, and the country is famous for its cod. In the true spirit of the trip, we each ordered the day's special, which was cod with fries, at a local restaurant. When we sat down, the waiter brought us a plate of cooked-but-intact fish – heads and all. We had no idea how to eat them, so we just picked out the meat. We assumed the fish was complimentary because he brought it without us asking. It ended up being something like 4 euros. You live and you learn, I suppose. Never assume appetizers or bread are complimentary in Europe. Never. 

The main dish

Later that night we headed out to the bars in the infamous-but-kind-of-seedy Bairro Alto, a neighborhood packed with hundreds of mostly tiny bars and music venues. We popped in and out of several, searching for cheap drinks and people who weren't speaking English. We didn't have much luck on either front. You see, the problem with Lisbon, to me, is that it's popular with northern Europeans and Brazilians, most of whom speak impeccable English. I guess if you´re looking for a place to travel where you don't need to speak the native tongue, Portugal´s the place to go. Portuguese people speak phenomenal English, and even if they didn't, you wouldn't have to look far for a native speaker or a Brazilian.

The following day, my roommate, our French friend and I set out to discover Lisbon while our Oregon buddy slept off a mild hangover. Someone had recommended that we visit the Feira da Ladra flea market in the Alfama district. To get there, we packed into one of the famous yellow rumbling Number 28 trams, which are reminiscent of the San Francisco street trollies. (I´ve never been to San Francisco, but Lisbon, with its proximity to the water, tourist-packed street cars, Golden Gate-like bridge and impossibly inclined streets, conjures images of SF.) 

The trollies, which have been in use for almost a century, glide through the cramped streets in the same lanes as cars, making for a nerve-wracking ride as drivers weave around them. Before our ride, we were really excited to take a cruise in one of the ubiquitous trams. Then we got on and weren´t so excited anymore. See why below. 

Too. Many. People.

I still can't figure out why anyone recommends the flea market – apparently a lot of people do because a stream of fellow tourists disembarked the tram at the market stop. At the market, I encountered some of the weirdest people and weirdest merchandise I've seen in a while. I kept a firm hand on my belongings and an eye on the shady characters around me. Part of me was thoroughly disgusted and bewildered by some of the things people were selling: unwashed socks, old tennis shoes, stuffed cloth penises, 90s porn videos and presumably non-functional stereo equipment. The other part of me was really sad for the people whose livelihoods depend on someone purchasing that junk. I´m sorry if I sound insensitive, but it's not a part of Lisbon worth showcasing, so I was dumbfounded that it has managed to charm its way into guidebooks. Perhaps it´s appealing if you're drawn to a city's quirky, less romantic side? 

Some of the flea fare.

I thought Lisbon couldn't get worse after that market – and then it did, or at least it didn't get better. As we wandered the streets trying to find the manicured Belém neighborhood, we encountered Lisbon´s rather scruffy side: dilapidated buildings, more shady characters, stuff that looked like it'd be in a Tim Burton movie. Exhibit A below. 

One guy we passed on the sidewalk looked at me so intently that I was sure he was going to sprint off with my purse. 

We did, however, encounter these adorable chess matches. Apparently this happens in real life.

We eventually made it to the Plaza do Comercio along the Tagus River, which was pretty and alive, so it's not to say Lisbon doesn´t have any redeeming qualities. On our way to the Plaza, we passed by a gourmet hamburger restaurant that was about to close for siesta, so we mentally stored the name and decided we´d go back for dinner. We snapped some photos in the plaza, did a quick, free wine tasting (none of the wines were worth noting) and continued our mission to find Belém. 

In the plaza.

We walked forever. And forever. And then some more. We eventually made the French friend ask some Portuguese people how far we were. Apparently we were laughably far. “Look at those idiot tourists,” is what I´m sure they said after we turned around, defeated. We raised the white flag, hopped on a train toward the center of town and went back to our hostel to meet up with Mr. Hungover.

By the time we made it to the hamburger joint for dinner, we were starving for a taste of America. As it turned out, the place belonged to Brazilian immigrants who had an interesting, bun-less take on burgers. Even so, they were great – it was the best meat I´ve tasted since I´ve been in Europe, and the workers were friendly, so no complaints here.

But really, a bunless hamburger isn't a burger at all, right?

On Sunday we wisely took the car to visit the tourist hotspots in Belém on our way out of town. We checked out the “Monument to the Discoveries,” an homage to the many Portuguese world discoverers (Magellan, Vasco de Gama and Columbus are a few, although Columbus’ nationality is in question). We essentially paid a couple of euros to climb to the top of the stone structure for great panoramic views of Lisbon. But I’m not complaining. Apparently there’s an auditorium inside with a projector showing features on the history of Lisbon, but we didn’t notice anything of the sort. There was an exhibition downstairs about diplomacy (or lack thereof) between India and Portugal, but…

Here’s a Wikipedia tidbit so you at least learn something: 

Ostensibly a 52-metre-high (171 ft) slab standing vertically along the bank of the Tagus, the [monument’s] design takes the form of the prow of a caravel (ship used in the early Portuguese exploration). On either side of the slab are ramps that join at the river's edge, with the figure of Henry the Navigator on its edge. On either side of the Infante, along the ramp, are 16 figures (33 in total) representing figures from the Portuguese Age of Discovery. These great people of the era included monarchs, explorers, cartographers, artists, scientists and missionaries. Each idealized figure is designed to show movement towards the front (the unknown sea), projecting a direct or indirect synthesis of their participation in the events after Henry.

We were in a hurry to get home after we left the monument because Oregon had lessons to plan back in Spain. We rushed to the Tower of Belém, did a classic tourist group photo outside and left without really knowing what we had seen.

[The tower] is a UNESCO World Heritage Site (along with the nearby Jerónimos Monastery)^[2] because of the significant role it played in the Portuguese maritime discoveries of the era of the Age of Discoveries.^[3] The tower was commissioned by King John II to be part of a defense system at the mouth of the Tagus River and a ceremonial gateway to Lisbon.^[3]
The tower was built in the early 16th century and is a prominent example of the Portuguese Manueline style,^[4] but it also incorporates hints of other architectural styles.^[5] The structure was built from lioz limestone and is composed of a bastion and the 30 meter (100 foot),^[1] four story tower. It has incorrectly been stated that the tower was built in the middle of the Tagus and now sits near the shore because the river was redirected after the 1755 Lisbon earthquake. In fact, the tower was built on a small island in the Tagus River near the Lisbon shore.^[5][6]

Source 

Source

This last part isn’t necessarily worth reading, but because this blog also serves as a sort of personal diary for me to look back on 37 years from now, I must mention the following incident. On our drive home, the four of us were starving. My roommate’s and I’s eyes were peeled for McDonald’s, but we accidentally sped past two before we had time to swerve into the exit lane. As a last resort, we stopped at a Portuguese convenience store/café. I bought a pork sandwich, and Oregon bought a pack of processed, chocolate-filled croissants. It was the worst food experience thus far. The pork was so tough I couldn’t even chew it. The croissants, well, they were just plain bad. An unfortunate farewell to Portugal…

So disappointing. I'm actually crying in this photo...from laughing, but crying nonetheless.

In sum, I’m still not sure how I feel about Portugal at the moment, even after reliving the experience while writing this blog. I’m sure I’ll go back, but right now, I’m not dying to do so.

Un saludo,

Teresa

A land of castles...

Spain is the land of Spanish, paella (a traditional rice dish), siestas, wine, tapas (snack-sized food portions), fiestas and castles.

For the record, I love castles, second only to Spanish.

I had promised myself that I'd stay home last weekend to save money and give myself a break. Then I got the urge to take a daytrip, and so did my roommate and another friend. A few hours later, we were at the top of a hill, sipping café con leche (coffee with milk) and drinking in the sweeping views of the Extremaduran landscape on the terrace of the Quinto Cecilia restaurant, just outside of Medellín.

Medellín is a small town of about 2,300 people 15 minutes west of Don Benito. The Columbian city of Medellín was named after this tiny Spanish pueblo, and Hernán Cortés, the famous conquistador who brought parts of Mexico under Spanish rule, was born there.



View Larger Map

After coffee, we took our time descending from the hill, crossing an old stone bridge and ascending another hill to reach the Castle of Medellín. Lucky for you, we took lots of pictures.

You can see the castle on the right, perched on the hill.

With my Wisconsin roommate.

From what I gathered, the castle was built in 1373. In the 1400s, the widowed wife of the earl at the time locked their son inside the dungeon in order to maintain control of the earldom. As time went on, the castle was handed down from family to family. Over the years, it was the scene of many fights between Arabs and Christians, and the castle is part of a network of fortresses from the Reconquista.

The church at the bottom of the hill.

The remains of the Roman theater at the foot of the castle.

The inside of the castle is mostly empty, except for what's left of the church on the left side.

 

The castle overlooks the town's main plaza at night.

The castle was sold to the government in 1917 for economic reasons. It was used for a while as a municipal cemetery and is now open to tourists, although we were the only ones in there on the evening we visited.

Un saludo,
Teresa

Me, hiking?

So I've blabbered a bit in past posts about how I need to expand my comfort zone into the uncomfortable a bit in order to experience this, um, experience to the fullest. I've done that to a certain extent: I went to that party with complete strangers the second day I was here, and this past weekend I went to an anniversary party for my mentor's hairdresser. But I need to do it better.

Anyway, an example of "Teresa doing something she'd never do in America": Hiking. It's not so much that I despise hiking or exercise, it's just that most of the time I'd rather do pretty much anything else. But my mentor invited me to go on an easy hike with her hiking club (Asociación Montañeros Vegas Altas), and I accepted.

We met at the Don Benito bus stop at about 8:45 on a recent Sunday morning. There were about 25 of us, with me being the only non-Spanish native. The great thing about doing things here with people I don't know is that my American-ness makes me inherently interesting. In America, I don't have that advantage with strangers.

I showed up woefully dressed. I was wearing tennis shoes, capri leggings and a "Nebraska" sweatshirt. Everyone made it known that my outfit was ludicrous and I was going to freeze. My explanation that I moved here from 4,500 miles away, and my hiking gear didn't make the cut when I packed my life into two suitcases fell on deaf ears. I actually don't even own any hiking gear, but that's neither here nor there...

The fellow hikers pooled some resources and graciously provided me with a zip-up sweatshirt, a windbreaker and a taller pair of socks.

My makeshift outfit, with my mentor, also named Teresa.

Then we headed to a 16-kilometer (10 miles) route called "Los Doce Apóstoles" (the 12 apostles) near Salvaleón in southern Extremadura.


View Larger Map

I made my mentor promise it would be easy before I agreed to go. It was easy, more or less, although it ended up being longer than 10 miles because we got lost in the forest. But the beautiful landscape and fresh air were worth every extra step - and I spoke Spanish most of the time, so no complaints here.

I believe these are the black Iberian pigs whose meat is so prized. Can anyone confirm?

I took this for my dad, a farmer who's always interested in agriculture elsewhere.

So glad I went. Here's to saying "yes" to new adventures.

Un saludo,
Teresa

Strike

So, if you're not aware of the general dismal economic state of things here in Spain, you should be. Read a newspaper, dang it. Let's just say this wonderful part of Europe - and many other wonderful parts of Europe - has seen better days. For lack of a better adjective, Spaniards are pissed about the situation and the government's "solutions."

Everything that's bad here is "por la crisis" (because of the crisis). Seriously, everything is attributed to the crisis. Today at school the water jug was empty, like it has been a lot lately, and one of the teachers noticed and grumbled about the damn crisis. But really, the crisis has had real effects on schools. The government can't afford to hire more teachers. Classes are larger. Teachers aren't getting bonuses. The public school I work at didn't have money to turn on the heating last week.

Like it or not, Spaniards are showing their dismay via strikes. In October, students in Extremadura went on strike to protest education cuts. Some students from my school participated; for some others, it was a nice excuse to not show up for school.

Flier for the student strike. It says they want to stop the People's Party's attacks on public education.

Today, there was a general strike across the country. Apparently in some areas it got pretty intense (read my fellow auxiliar Alia's post about fires and violence in northern Spain). Things were pretty calm in my area, from what I saw, but I read in the paper that trash services were more or less halted in several cities in Extremadura today, and most of the workers at the post office in one city were on strike. Thousands of people have reportedly participated in street demonstrations throughout Extremadura.

"Huelga" means strike. This poster was in the teachers' lounge at school.

From what I could tell, a lot of the teachers from my public school didn't participate in the strike. I talked to two of them at length (in Spanish even!) about why they weren't on strike. Two frequently used words during the conversation were "disillusionment" and "manipulation." They feel disillusionment regarding strikes' ineffectiveness and they feel manipulated by politically motivated labor unions. The unions are reporting a 45 percent participation rate among education workers, while the government is reporting 26 percent.

Anyway, here's a bit from the New York Times about the day:

MADRID — For the first time since the start of the euro crisis, labor unrest took on a European dimension on Wednesday as Spanish and Portuguese workers coordinated a general strike while unions in Greece and Italy also planned protests and work stoppages.

...

The Spanish strike was called by unions after (Mariano) Rajoy presented a tough austerity budget for next year but it also comes after the country’s jobless rate recently reached a record 25 percent.

...

While about 700 flights in and out of Spain were canceled Wednesday, Madrid and other airports were still functioning. The strike coincided with growing uncertainty about the future of Iberia, the national airline, after management announced this month that the airline needed to lay off a quarter of its workers to survive.

Ignacio Fernández Toxo, the head of one of Spain’s two main unions, Comisiones Obreras, said that the coordinated strike action across the Iberian Peninsula, as well as work stoppages in other parts of Europe, amounted to “a historic moment in the European Union movement.”

However, support for trade unions has dwindled in recent years because of their failure to prevent the surge in unemployment and controversy surrounding the unions’ reliance on government subsidies rather than contributions from members. In Spain, only about 16 percent of workers are unionized.

Un saludo,
Teresa