El Tema de la Peluquería...

Contrary to the title of my last post, it seems autumn only lasts for about a week here and has now decided to step aside to let winter do its thing! The past few days have been very cold, windy and rainy (although luckily it’s brightened up again now). We’ve had the heating on nearly every day and I’ve been particularly glad of it in my sun-starved room, which usually feels like a morgue.

Today was another Spain ‘first’ for me. I had my hair cut in a Spanish hairdresser for the first time. Ana from school recommended me her hairdresser, ‘Paco y Ana’ – she’s friends with Paco and she has lovely hair, so I trusted her judgement.  I was pleasantly surprised by the results (I was worried I’d come out either looking like a poodle or a shorn sheep), but I can’t say the same for the process I had to go through to get my new ‘do.

Being a typically punctual Brit, I arrived a couple of minutes early for my 10.45am appointment, was greeted with friendly smiles and asked to take a seat.  So far, so good. I began idly flicking through a Spanish gossip magazine. The only other customers in there at the time seemed to be older ladies having their perms or tints done, three of whom were sitting waiting with me. Naturally, I assumed I’d be called first as I arrived first. This was not the case. Fifteen minutes passed... Then half an hour... Then 45 minutes... Then an hour.

By this point, the other women had all been called up and I was beginning to feel exasperated. The most bizarre thing was, no one else seemed to think that leaving a customer waiting for this long was anything out of the ordinary, and the staff were just getting on with their work, carefree. Finally, 1 hour and 15 minutes after my scheduled appointment – and just in the nick of time, as by this point I was so fed up I was plotting my escape – Ana of Paco y Ana fame casually called me up to have my hair washed, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Er helIo? I’ve been waiting SEVENTY-FIVE MINUTES; does that not even merit an apology?! I decided against trying to complain in Spanish (firstly, because my Spanish probably isn’t up to it, and secondly because Cuenca is so small that news travels fast, and I wouldn’t like it to get back to the other Ana, who had personally recommended me the salon).

Two and a half hours after stepping into the salon, I was finally ready to leave. It must have been the longest wash, cut and blow-dry anyone has ever had in the history of mankind. In England, I would only expect to spend that long in a salon if I were getting a full head of highlights! However, I was foolish to think that things would be the same in Spain. After all, the Spanish are renowned for their tardiness and impunctuality, and today they really lived up to their stereotype! Cultural differences aside, I was pleased with my cut and might consider going back (but I’d have to make sure I always go on a Friday when I’ve got nothing else to do). Nevertheless, I didn’t leave a tip. Maybe it was stingy, but anyone who makes me wait that long is asking for trouble...

Anyway, at least my hair will be behaving itself this weekend in Toledo. Natira, Corinna, Jaclyn and I are catching the coach to Madrid at 6.30 this evening, where we’ll then hop on a high-speed train – which only takes 20 minutes – to Toledo if everything goes to plan. Mary and Krista are already there, having caught a grotesquely early train from their town, Villarrobledo, this morning. Jaclyn has friends in Toledo (yes, real, authentic Spanish friends!) who will be able to show us around. I’m looking forward to sampling the nightlife and – as ever – the wine that the city has to offer!

This week at school has been a bit of a mixed bag. Since there are no British festivals between Bonfire Night and Christmas (how dull we are...), I didn’t have a specific topic up my sleeve, and have begun looking to the teachers for a bit of advice. Some of the classes have been learning about describing physical appearances, so I planned a lesson based around that.

First, I built up a ‘physical appearance’ mind map on the board, asking them all to contribute words they knew to  describe the way people look (tall, short, fat, thin) and adding more complex words that they wouldn’t already know (stocky, lanky, spotty, freckly, six-pack). Next, I put them into pairs and gave one person in each pair a photo of a celebrity, telling them to describe the photo to their partner using the vocabulary on the board so their partner could guess who they were. They loved it. I was buzzing round the class like a blue-arsed fly, rotating the 12 photos around the pairs so everyone got to try a few different ones. Finally, I played a good old-fashioned game of 20 Questions, where a student had to come to the front of the class, and, with a celebrity in mind, answer questions from their classmates about the celebrity. The questions can only be ones that have ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers, such as ‘Does she have brown hair?’ or ‘Is he slim?’. Minimal effort from me, and it got them talking. Job done! 

With other classes, we’ve started doing some reading. Much to my delight, I get to revisit two of my favourite childhood reads  – ‘The Witches’ by Roald Dahl, and Michael Morpurgo’s ‘Kensuke’s Kingdom’, as two of my British Council classes have to read them.

With my Hostelería group, who are adults, I made up some hotel role-play cards and asked them to create dialogues based on them; for example, between a hotel concierge and a customer who wants to know a good restaurant to eat in.

I still very much have my favourite and least favourite classes, but I’m learning to just get on with it and make the most of the present situation (or, failing that, just give withering looks to kids I don’t like). I’ve also very much discovered my voice in terms of discipline; a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have dared raise my voice to a class for fear of them laughing in my face. But now, I’ve lost my inhibitions and am getting increasingly less of a soft touch. Just yesterday, I was left for about 5 or 10 minutes on my own with a class of particularly boisterous (and sometimes obnoxious) 14-year-olds, while Ana dashed to the photocopier.

 At first, they were chatting among themselves and I thought all was going to be fine, until the noise level gradually began to rise. Next thing I knew, some of the boys were out of their seats and pencil cases were being launched through the air as missiles. Surprisingly myself with my own vocals, I shouted at them that they were acting like 5-year-olds and I wasn’t impressed. When Ana came back in, I wasted no time in grassing the little beggars up. That’ll teach them to mess with me!

Yesterday, I went for drinks with Ana and a few other teachers, which was lovely, although after 2 glasses of wine and several tapas my eyes were drooping (it was only 4pm) and I couldn’t have had a conversation in English, let alone Spanish. A siesta was the only thing for it.

Apart from that, this week has been fairly uneventful. On the 26^th of November, I (and the other ‘natives’) have been invited to an English-speaking dinner, organised by a Spanish lady called Isabel and an Australian guy called Mike, who regularly organise similar events . The idea is that Spanish people who want to improve their English can come along and practise speaking with native English speakers, in a natural and relaxed environment. Best of all, the food is free for us natives! It would be rude to say no...

Well, this one has been short and sweet by my standards, but never fear; I’m sure I’ll be back on form next week with another epic-length report on mi vida español .

¡Hasta luego!