My Spanish Life.

So the world of being a hot english teacher is much the same as being a teacher in general… but I’m thinking that it’s still better than my old job. Right now, I know that I still have an hour left of work today, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m more rested. I’m more organised (though my bedroom isn’t) and I think I’m enjoying classes more. This may be because of better preparation.

I teach at a range of places – an import/export overseeing body called Inspeccorate, an international advertising company Ogilvy, filled to the brim with funky, stylish looking young people. Not quite like any office I’d been into before. And way out in the ‘burbs of Madrid at a BUSINESS PARK. Seriously, a purpose built office park, with god knows how many companies within it. It’s office hell with it’s own banks, restaurants, travel agencies. Every building is named after a country and I teach in Canada. Plus I have a private class with two kids, Carmen and Cristina… and whilst I hated, with a passion, teaching 9-10 yr olds before. I like these two. They laugh, they’re energetic and they make the class pretty easy for me. Plus its 25€ straight in the pocket.

What else be going on here? I’ve managed to coerce a friend into taking me for private Spanish classes at a much reduced price. She, like me, would normally charge 25€ but I explained the concept of mate’s rates and I think she understands now. Plus hopefully, I’ll get it together enough to start academy classes by the start of next month.

Nights here take on a party atmosphere generally. If its not a birthday, it’s a trip down to Mojito or Aguardiamente madness. Not necessarily for the faint hearted, especially when the camarrera/o says “you want what?” (Not that it’s always like that, Mum.) I’ve discovered, by way of others, some secrets of Madrid, like the 6.30 in the morning breakfast bar which isn’t open but if you’re very quiet and you tap on the door, they’ll let you in… and for the next hour, it steadily fills up with goths and punks until you’re swimming in a sea of blackness. Seriously, we were the only ones in colour when we went there. I don’t know where these goth and punk clubs are. Definitely hidden in the underbelly of Madrid.

I’ve seen off my first farewell as world-famous Chris Wooding, writer extraordinaire headed back to the sunny English isles, to a world of phaeries, goblins and gloom, but a land where manana is ahora and people speaka his language. There is an abundance of people beginning to drift off, home, Egypt, somewhere else, which is a little sad at times but… oh well, I’ve forgotten who y’all are already anyway.

This weekend, the plan is Avila. It’s been the plan for the last three weekends but has not eventuated. We shall see. I am determined to get there this time.

Badabingbadaboom. I have dishes to do and class to prepare.