"Rodolfo el Reno de la Nariz Roja"

Following the dramas of two weekends ago, my week in France miraculously went off without a hitch. Okay, so I arrived in Aix-en-Provence sleep-deprived, disorientated and almost completely deaf in one ear (the plane’s descent had wreaked havoc with my poor ears, which were already congested from the cold I was getting over), but was nevertheless deliriously happy to have defied those nasty air traffic controllers and made it out of Spain.

And what a charming place to escape to it was. Aix has that quaint, dinky, distinctly French feel to it, with its cobbled streets, little squares with fountains and abundance of tasteful (i.e. pricey) boutiques with enticing window displays. Add to that a plethora of alluring restaurants, cafés, bakeries and crêpe stalls, and you’ve got yourself an upmarket shoppers’ paradise. In comparison to Cuenca, where I feel positively rich, I felt like a pauper in the midst of all this glitz and glamour.

A very Christmassy Aix-en-Provence

However, it looked and felt considerably more festive than Cuenca, which was a bonus for my Christmas-loving self. Everywhere we went twinkling fairy lights adorned the trees, fountains, shops and buildings, and the continental Christmas market – each stall a little wooden shed with fake snow on its roof – and children’s carousel made the place feel like a winter wonderland. A smattering of snow and it would’ve been like a giant Santa’s grotto.

So, like any self-respecting food-lover and shopaholic, I spent the week doing what I do best: spending far too much money and eating far too many Nutella crêpes. It was lovely to have a change of scene and even lovelier to see Anna. We whiled away the evenings catching up on each other’s news, watching Christmas films and drinking cheap wine (as well as, on one memorable night, some very syrupy crème de cassis, snaffled from her landlord’s booze cupboard). On my last day, our friend Tom who’s living in nearby Nice came to join us and we spent the day in Marseille. Although I liked it, as a big city (second only to Paris in size, apparently) it inevitably lacked that small-town charm which Aix does so well. 

Anna and me in Marseille

My visit went by in a whirl, and before I knew it I was embarking on the long journey back to Cuenca, wishing that the following week would just hurry up and happen so I could go back to England. Of course, wishing one’s time away is never a worthwhile thing to do, but I’ve reached the point where I’m not only excited to come home for a couple of weeks, but impatient. The wonderful thing about being away from home is that not only do you learn to love a new place with an entirely different culture, but you truly begin to appreciate your own little corner of the world. I miss my family and friends, of course; but I also miss good old English roast dinners, fry-ups and bizarrely, Marmite.

Despite being somewhat disenchanted with the idea of having to go back to work for a week and a half between my little French vacances and my Christmas break, I’ve had a brilliant week. I had great fun teaching my classes about British Christmas traditions – such as Christmas crackers, kissing under the mistletoe and carol singing – typical Christmas food and how Christmas Day is celebrated in my family. The students, nosy as they are, particularly enjoyed being shown photos from Christmas 2008 of the family all sitting around the table wearing our paper crowns! The personal highlight for me, however, was hearing them all sing along to ‘Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’ and ‘Jingle Bells’ when I played it to them on YouTube. One class even gave me a round of applause at the end of the lesson, which touched me.

By Wednesday I’d given my Christmas presentation six times, and was positively brimming with festive cheer. What better way to channel it than to attend my first Christmas dinner of the year? The impressive Hostelería department at San José had laid on a complimentary 3-course pig-out for any staff interested (which was, of course, about 90% of us!), with the students catering to our every need, all in the name of practice for their course. Clad in black and white waiter gear and looking very professional, they milled around with trays of wine, beer and canapés in the bar area before inviting us to go through to the dining hall and take our seats at the meticulously decorated tables. The starter was a divine vegetable and prawn lasagne, followed by a sumptuous main course of chicken with raisin stuffing, homemade apple sauce, potatoes and gravy. By dessert time, I felt as though I were bursting at the seams, but somehow managed to find a spare corner in order to sample the blueberry cheesecake and fresh pomegranate.

Christmas lunch at San José

The red wine and champagne were flowing throughout, and at the end of the meal we were brought coffee and traditional Spanish Christmas sweets, before a hearty sing-song session during which each table took in turns to belt out a variety of Christmas classics. They were all in Spanish and sung at a ridiculous speed, of course, much to the amusement of my fellow diners as they watched me struggle through each verse, my eyes trained on the tongue-twisting lyrics in front of me. Some of them couldn’t even keep up, so I had no hope!

Yesterday, however, I think my busy lifestyle and lack of sleep had finally caught up with me. I woke up feeling rundown and exhausted, and although I eventually managed to  drag myself out of bed and get dressed, I soon realised I was in no state to go to work. Having never called in sick before, I didn’t know the procedure, but decided Elena was the best person to contact as she’s essentially ‘in charge’ of me at school. She didn’t seem to mind at all, and was very understanding, telling me to go back to bed and sleep. Nevertheless, I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt –as I always have on the rare occasions in the past when I’ve phoned in sick – which is why usually when I’m ill I struggle through if I possibly can. On this occasion, though, the thought of having to teach four classes while feeling like that was unbearable.

With hindsight, it was definitely the right thing to do. I slept like I’ve never slept before and woke up feeling like a new person! I think I was momentarily struck by a case of end-of-term fatigue, which gives further reason to why I’m so eager to get back to England.

Speaking of which, with all being well (and yes, I’m talking to you, Spanish air controllers and you, snowy weather – behave yourselves!) I shall be back on British soil on Wednesday evening.

Last night, Corinna, Jaclyn and I happened upon some other English-speakers (Americans, of course – it seems I am literally the only English person in Cuenca!) in our favourite bar, El Quinto Pecado. They are also here as language assistants, but are working at the university and have been here for over a year. It’s strange that we’ve never met them before, really!

Tomorrow, Jaclyn, Corinna, Natira and I are heading to Albacete for a spot of Christmas shopping. Mary is going to meet us, and after spending the day there we’re going to go back to Villarrobledo, the small town where she and Krista live, and stay the night at their flat. On Sunday, we’re planning on having our very own language assistants’ ‘Christmas Day’, complete with Christmas dinner and presents; a perfect way to round off our fantastic first three months in Spain.

Well, the next time you’ll hear from me will be in 2011, so until then... ¡Feliz Navidad y Próspero Año Nuevo!

¡Hasta luego!