Y solo hay un deportivo

Independentistas gallegos

Stokies on Tour

Me and Xavi outside Balaídos

Near Nati's nan's house

View of Ourense

Natural Thermal Spa, Ourense

Thermal Fountain, Ourense

Millennium Bridge, Ourense

At the thermal fountain, Ourense

Buenos!

This has been written for a while but I’ve been waiting for the photos from Natalia so that’s my excuse for lateness this week!

Last weekend I went Aída and Natalia to Ourense, to spend the weekend at Natalia’s. Ourense is in Galicia, but is more inland than Vigo. Apparently it, and Santiago, are the only major towns without a sea in Galicia. Was really good, I got a double bed all to myself and slept like a God for the weekend. Natalia’s parents are really lovely, and kept asking loads of questions about things all weekend as well as showed us around Ourense, to this fountain with naturally really hot water and to the Millennium bridge where you can see all over the town, as well as just pointing things out all the time. We also went to an old lookout tower near to Natalia’s nan’s house and to this little bar in a typically Galician village. So I got to see and learn a good deal. We saw the fountain and the bridge on Friday evening after tea and by Saturday night I’d got a cold, so I think it was that because the temperature, especially at night, has really dropped in the past few days. But Natalia’s parents gave me some medicines and tissues and looked after me, so don’t worry Mum!

Food-wise I ate really well. As I said Nati’s parents are lovely and knowing that I don’t think much of seafood they didn’t serve any all weekend! (I forgot to mention that I ate octopus at Miguel’s! It was actually alright, probably because it was covered in paprika but I couldn’t eat more than a bit of it, covered in bread.) We had this cake called “Brazo de Gitana” or Gypsy’s Arm which is like a Swiss roll without the jam and with fresh cream. I also tried this thing, I need to ask Natalia what it’s called, which was like a sweet jelly sort of thing on a slice of cheese. I really liked it but have forgotten its name now, apparently it’s very, very Galician. I also ate churros con chocolate for breakfast, which is a bit like doughnut strips dunked in a chocolatey drink thing, very very very Spanish but the first time I ate them in Spain. I ate so much there I’ve felt like I need to go the gym all week!

On Saturday early evening we went to these thermal spas, which are natural. The water in them is like 60 degrees and nearly burnt. Was really good but a bit surreal to be so hot when, like I said, the temperature outside has gone so cold. Was really good though, I’ve always said I want to go to Iceland to go to these thermal spas or geezers or whatever they’re called and now I’ve done it, in sunny Galicia! Coming home Natalia’s parents gave me a load of really good quality cured meats, because they know that most days I take a sandwich  to uni rather than eating at the residence, because I have classes and they said it’d stop the boredom of the same sandwich every day. How nice!

This weekend I went with Xavi and Miguel to watch the Galician derby football match between Celta de Vigo and Deportivo de A Coruña, which was a good laugh. Me and Miguel wore Stoke City tops, just for a laugh but I had my hoody on and bought a Celta scalf too. It was a really good derby atmosphere in the stadium and I have never heard/learnt so many insults in my life. I can now swear at people in Galician, because one of the chants at Depor fans was, “No son Gallegos son fillos de puta,” which you can google translate yourself. There was another chant which I thought was quite clever, “y solo hay, y solo hay, y solo hay y solo hay, y solo hay un deportivo, deportivo alaves” to the tune of oh when the saints, which translates as, “and there’s only one (5) deportivo, deportivo alaves,” i.e that Deportivo de A Coruña does not exist. I’ve never heard so many swear words in Spanish in my life, especially when Celta got an undeserved red card, Miguel shouted, “ostdia puta maricón joder!” which, again, you can google translate yourself! I’m really glad to have seen a Spanish football match because it’s more popular here than in the UK, everyone is obsessed by youtube videos of goals and following the English and Spanish leagues, girls as much as boys.

On a cultural difference note, self-deprecation isn’t really appreciated here too much either; when we were insulting the people of A Coruña, where incidentally I believe my Spanish grammar teacher last year is from, I said to Miguel, “No soy gallego, soy hijo de puta,” and he like no no no no no, no you’re not. I was like I know, was a joke. Ah well, live and learn. Also learnt that the phrase, “ser un pulpo” or to be an octopus actually has bad connotations. As I said that someone in the resi was a pulpo meaning they touch a lot, and I think I might have offended them. Word of advice: don’t use expressions until you fully know what they mean. Had to play the I’m foreign card to get out of that one! And a note about uni: on Thursday our English-Spanish translation teacher taught for about 30 mins of the 90 and kept asking why we all looked so glum and tired, and then she decided to send us all home, so that we can relax and cheer up. Haha, no complaints because I went to a part of the campus where there was botellón because it was the saint’s day of the Telecommunications faculty. I don’t think at Durham there’d ever me a load of people getting drunk outside the languages department, on uni property; but no complaints if it ever happens! On the way home I was desperate for a wee so had to get off in the middle of the bus route and find a bush somewhere, but thankfully my roommate Anxo got off with me and we went back to the resi together, rather than being empty bladdered and stranded by myself.

And that’s the imports from these two weeks then! See you soon! 

Como una Cabra

Miguel, Me and Snookie

One of the many 'anticrisis' demonstations

Ría de Vigo

Me and Miguel over Riveira

¡Buenos!

I'm getting progressively worse at updating this blog every week, I will  make more of an effort in future because half of the reason for this blog is to remember little anecdotes for my oral exams and I'm not going to remember any at this rate.

Right so where did I leave off on this gran historía de España? Vigo Zoo, well animal park. It was, we decided, the last good weekend we were going to have, and we were right. Although I got to crack the legs out a few days for lectures the weather has now turned miserable and rainy and cold compared to the heat of a summer in Toulouse and September here. So now the legs are well and truly hidden away until next year. But anyway the Sunday we went to the zoo it was really, really nice again so we thought it would be a good day to go to the zoo. Now...Owen asked his landlady where to catch the bus to the zoo and she told him it was from Plaza América, it wasn't. We had to walk about 20 minutes to what is basically the other side of Vigo to get to the bus stop that goes to the zoo, thanks to the information of a kind bus driver. This bus stop is about 500m from my residence, but like I say it was a nice day and being British I didn't complain too much about it. I've decided that Owen must look Spanish, because these women came up to us, conveniently for them, asking where to go to get to the zoo and looked proper shocked when they heard our accents as we replied and then just laughed and said thank you. But they can't have thought I was, someone in the residence said that I'm visibly foreign because I'm far too fair eyed and haired to be español, which is always nice to know but probably true.

Vigo Zoo is up in the mountains just outside Vigo and from it you can see all over the Ría de Vigo, the sea and the Galician mountains, it's such a nice view of the city and area. The zoo itself is actually quite small, and there wasn't much I hadn't seen before except BEARS. There are these two brown bears who are Spanish TV stars who are there. This woman was throwing peanuts to them and it sat catching them and was proper good to see cus I've never seen a bear before, I don't think. All in all it was a really good day and a good day to make the most of the last of the good weather.

One evening we went to see 'Of Mice, Of Men' in Spanish which was actually really good because it's one of my favourite books in English. I won't talk for ages about it incase people haven't read it, but I thought it was a really good translation of it, although they moved away from the book a little bit occasionally and they made George out to be really harsh to Lennie in parts when he always seemed more benevolent (to me).  There was this Galician family who came in and asked what seats we were in, and so when we told them they said "you're not from here are you?" to which we said no, we're English, Northern Irish and German and they said oh well you speak very good Spanish because we asked you in Galician, sorry. haha. We hadn't even realised! Apparently my roommate Anxo (which is Galician for Angél) speaks to me in Galician by false of habit and doesn't realise sometimes, oh dear! And when we were out it made me laugh that two of them started having an argument over a word, because one told it me (I've since forgotten) and then the other was sure that that was the Galician word and not the Castillian one.  Good to know that they know the difference.

Last weekend I went to stay with Miguel's family, which I really enjoyed. I felt a bit harsh kicking his sister out of her room and forcing her to sleep in the Grandmother's room but she didn't seem to mind. Linguistically it was quite tough, mainly because Miguel's Grandmother only speaks Castillian, i.e. Spanish, when she goes to the doctors, I don't really understand why only at the doctors but there you go, and so she kept slipping into Galician. But everyday the Dad did his Mum kept shouting to speak Spanish so I understand, to which he said, I think, hay que fallar gallego, you need to learn Galician. I think. I know two expressions in Galician, one is boas noites, goodnight and the other is cachurrita, which a term to refer to a girl that I'm never ever to say to her face, so make your own translation. I really appreciated that his mum drove us up in the mountains on Saturday evening to see the views of Riveira (his town) and also to some sand dunes. It was really nice and a lot quieter than Vigo, which I liked because I much prefer countryside/semi-rural places to big cities. I also got to meet some of Miguel's friends at the botellón in Ribeira which was fun too. You might have noticed that I've just spelt Riveira in two different ways. A lot of students of Spanish struggle when they hear a word to know the difference between V/B as there is no phonetic distinction in Spanish. Vigo is pronounced Bigo. Apparently no one knows whether it should be spelt with a B or a V, so it's quite reassuring that sometimes the Spanish get confused over their pronunciation too.

One thing I did want to mention though was British humour and that it goes straight over  people's heads here. Or rather, good old British sarcasm/banter. For example, I was asked if it's autumn in Britain too, to which I said yes, and the added with a smile that  it is the same continent as same Spain you know? Now, maybe I said it wrongly because I was just looked at like soz for askin' but I think it's just that the humour aspect of winding someone up went right over her head. Also one of the girls left on Thursday to go home and on chat I said to her "oh someone went without saying goodbye then..." to which she replied that I wasn't there so she couldn't have said goodbye. Fair play, I said, I'll forgive you then. And then on Sunday she asked if I was in a mood with her because she didn't say goodbye? I don't think it is sarcasm, I just don't think they understand the false seriousness of British humour, that we pretend to have a go at people to wind them up. I need to stop it or people will be thinking I'm a right moody moody.

The other Thursday was a strike day against all the cuts to education across Spain but I thought it would be a bit rich for me to strike seen as I let the student fees in the UK rise without protest even though I was and am against it. So, being the principled young cabellero that I am, I, along with three other people, went to class. Fight the system. But I walked past the protest on my way to class and it seemed that more people were making use of the Thursday proceeding the Friday that was a public holiday to go home, as there was like no  one at the protest.

I have my first piece of assessed work due in soon, it's a translation of an Australian menu and a linguistic commentary. Should be alright. Need to start cracking on my Year Abroad Written Task too, but I'm not sure what to do it on; I'm thinking maybe something about the Galician presidential elections that are coming up? But need to start the research and turn Durham-mode back on to get it done and done well. We're so lucky that's all we have to though, some have massive dissertations AND have to pass their exams. ¡Qué horror!

Right lads, I'm off, promise to speak soon! ¡Ata logo!