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Illness is the night-side of life

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Picture is a repost from Julie Flygare.

La enfermedad es el lado nocturno de la vida, una ciudadan铆a mas onerosa.聽Cada persona al nacer posee una ciudadan铆a dual, en el reino de los sanos y en el reino de los enfermos. Aunque todos preferir铆amos s贸lo utilizar el pasaporte bueno, tarde o temprano cada uno se ve obligado, al menos por un tiempo, a identificarse como ciudadano de aquel otro lugar.

Taking my bad passport and heading home, to the other place.

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Going Home

So, long story short, I had my follow-up for my sleep study, and the sleep clinic isn’t going to give me any medicine, for reasons that are dubious at best. So I’m a little out of options now.

I haven’t left my apartment in about a month except to go to school, the grocery store, and my private classes. Even when I’m at school, I feel like a zombie, or like a shell of a human being. I don’t think I have a personality anymore, all my energy goes into not falling asleep. I can’t string sentences together, not in English or Spanish. My room is a wreck because I can’t keep up with all the things required to make my space neat. All I eat is bread and frozen pizzas because trying to figure out meals and groceries and everything related with food planning is overwhelming and I just can’t rely on food that can’t be eaten immediately. I’m too tired to prepare even simple things.

I don’t want to be like this, but I can’t change my situation through sheer willpower — even though I’ve been trying. So I’m going home.

I had planned to go back to the United States at the end of the semester, but this week I realized that it really can’t wait. So I’m going home next Friday, I’ve got a week to pack up and say goodbye to people.

The good news is that I’ll be able to get Xyrem in the US — probably — and that could turn everything around. If my insurance approves Xyrem, I could even get a supply to take to Spain in the fall so that I can come back and teach another year. So I will hopefully be able to come back.

But I really don’t want to leave. I love Spain, and I keep hoping that things will get better, that I’ll have a day where I feel okay and I’ll be able to go to Madrid or travel a little or something. But I never have days like that, so I need to go home and get my health sorted.聽It really, really sucks.

Excursi贸n to Madrid

Yesterday, I went with one of my classes to the National Museum of Archeology in Madrid.

On the bus ride there, I tried my best to stay awake and look at the ugly, flat scenery as we approached the city. As the roads narrowed and the traffic increased, Juanra, my best teacher friend, leaned over and told me we had about 15 minutes before arriving if I wanted to take a nap. He sees me every day and can tell, more than anyone, when I’m tired. I’m never sure what gives it away, because I always think that I’m being normal. My mom says you can see it in my eyes.

So I slept for a few minutes before we arrived at the museum. Juanra’s voice woke me up, and he apologized for waking me, but it didn’t matter because I felt slightly better.

At the museum, I was in charge of keeping the 12-year-olds from

1) touching the priceless artifacts

2) taking pictures of the genitals on the statues, and

3) running away.

I was only marginally successful at all of this.

I tried to pay attention as the teacher I was helping talked about the different exhibits, but even though the words entered my brain, they wouldn’t stay there. I listened to everything as best I could, but it was like I breathed the words in and out, like oxygen, and I couldn’t tell you a single thing he said.

We saw a cast of Lucy’s skeleton and statues from the ancient Greeks, and Egyptian sarcophaguses. In the Egypt exhibit, I turned around and suddenly all the wooden floors and all the hallways were slanting towards me, like I was at the bottom of a pit. A group of teenagers were coming聽towards me, walking down the steeply slanted hallway like it was a ramp, but they were huge, way bigger than any humans should be, and I stared at them because they were a strangely scary.

This isn’t real, I told myself. This is a dream. Museum hallways don’t have slanted floors.聽But I could still see the floors and they were very slanted. Think of all the museums you’ve been to. Weren’t they all completely flat? Museums don’t make uneven floors. This isn’t real.

My class was leaving the exhibit, walking up the floors, and I as I caught up with them I could feel under my shoes that the floor was flat, and in the next room things looked more normal.

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After the tour, I had a coffee in the museum cafeteria with Juanra and Esperanza, the young, beautiful, and extremely kind philosophy teacher, while the students ate outside in the rain. It’s the first year for all three of us at our school, so聽Juanra and Esperanza chatted about their classes and their impressions of the institute, while I listened. It’s very hard to talk these days, in both English and Spanish, so usually I prefer not to try.

Juanra said he was a disaster in the classroom, which isn’t true, and I know because I have class every day with him, and I wanted to say something but the thought of opening my mouth was overwhelming, so I kept quiet. I felt guilty, listening to Juanra speak freely to Esperanza in Spanish — we generally speak only in English, which is his second language, and it’s not as easy for him to express himself with precision.

I’d like to speak in Spanish, but my brain works so slowly. It’s hard to string together a sentence in English, let alone Spanish, and I’m sick of feeling humiliated when people hear my pauses and stuttering and assume that my level of Spanish is quite low. In reality, podr铆a hablar f谩cilmente el espa帽ol, si tan solo pudiese pensar con claridad y tener el cerebro que ten铆a antes.

So for the sake of my pride, I stick to English with Juanra, and miss out on hearing his unfettered thoughts.

At one point, Esperanza became very worried that my level of Spanish comprehension was quite聽low, since I wasn’t talking, and she had been speaking Spanish to me all day. I had to assure her that I understood everything — which is true — and that I prefer to just listen — which is not true, it’s not a preference, it’s a necessity.聽

On the bus ride back to Alcorc贸n, I fell asleep, but this time I felt worse off when I woke up. When we arrived at school, I stumbled to the bathroom to take more medication, but it didn’t help, and when it was time for me to go home I found myself suddenly in the staff room, trying to leave, but I would blink and find that I had stopped moving after only a few steps, over and over, and I was very confused.

Aside

Conversations with my Students

Some conversations I had today with my little Spanish angel students:

  • “Teacher!! I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!!! I saw you going into your apartment AND YOU HAD PIZZA!”
  • “Teacher, if you want to say ‘I farted’ in English, can you say ‘I made a mess?’ You can, right? I know you can. No, you can. I know it.”
  • “Teacher, Borja from Cuarto has a crush on you!! Do you like him? Can I tell him you like him?!” (NB: Borja is 15 years old.)
  • “Teacher, how much money do you make?”
  • “Are you dating Other Teacher? Are you IN LOVE with Other Teacher?!”
  • “Teacher, what color hair does your mom have? And what’s her name?”
  • “Teacher, did you know that in English if you want to say ‘I’m gonna puke’, you say ‘Chewbacca is coming’? No, this is true! I KNOW it’s true!”

Dear Spain, You Learned Wrong

Learning a foreign language is聽fascinating to me, and I am constantly surprised by聽the nuances that get lost in translation. I’ve been laughing a bit at the things Spaniards are being taught during their English classes — which are taught by other Spaniards, not by native English speakers — that are just flat-out wrong.

Most commonly, Spaniards learn to say聽things that are grammatically correct, but that no native English speaker would ever say. When Americans learn Spanish in school, we encounter a few of these types of things, too — for example, we’re taught to say “Encantado” when meeting someone. PSA, this word literally means “Enchanted”, and it sounds just as stupid in Spanish as it does in English.

The most common “technically correct but sounds weird” error that I’ve heard here is that, when you ask a Spaniard, “How are you?”, they respond with “Fine.” This happens 100% of the time, regardless of the English fluency of the person I’m talking to. “Fine” is a literal translation of “Bien,” which is the appropriate response in Spanish, but in English, if someone just says “Fine,” it comes off as a bit guarded, or even defensive, to a native English speaker, as if you’re dismissing their casual question.

Because I am a crusader for English fluency here in Spain, I’ve taken it upon myself to gently correct people聽about this, when appropriate, to varying degrees of success. One of my waiter friends has gone from saying “I am fine” to “I am very very fine”, and another has stubbornly insisted that there is no point in saying he feels “good” if he is only “fine”. I have had a few receptive students, though, who now say “I’m good!” while giving me a huge thumbs-up. This seems more sarcastic than anything, but I’ll take what I can get.

Makin’ Frands

I keep returning聽to the pub that I visited on my disastrous first day聽in Spain, and it’s become one of my favorite places! I’ve met a good number of regulars, so it’s great for Spanish conversation practice, and the waiters are always very generous,聽giving me an inordinate amount of free food every time I come by and criminally undercharging me for drinks.聽Often, I end up staying for hours, talking to the waitersand listening to the loud, slangy Spanish being shouted around the bar.聽

鈥淗elen, I want you to meet my wife,鈥 said 脕ngel 鈥 a large, fit dude from the Dominican Republic, the kind of guy who would be intimidating if he didn鈥檛 smile so much 鈥斅one evening as he worked as the聽bartender, filling up ca帽as, little glasses of beer. He gestured for his wife, who was sitting at the opposite end of the bar, to join us. 鈥淪he works in the kitchen. Carmen, this is Helen, from the United States,鈥 he said.

Carmen and I gave each other two kisses, a greeting I was still getting accustomed to. I liked her immediately 鈥 she was stylish, beautiful, and extremely friendly, like everybody in Spain.聽

We made a good pair, and the next day we ended up spending the whole evening together, walking around the mall and killing time at bars, eventually returning to the pub while 脕ngel finished closing up for the night. By that point, it was nearly聽midnight and I was absolutely exhausted — my brain refused to speak another word of Spanish — but Carmen was more than willing to speak for me.

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聽I wonder which one of these girls has cataplexy???

“Helen, est谩s haciendo amigos!” Ruben exclaimed when he saw me enter the pub with Carmen. He switched to pidgin English for my benefit. “Makin’ frands!”

鈥淪he does speak Spanish, you know,鈥 Carmen told the waiters as they finished cleaning the pub, sweeping the floor and rearranging chairs.聽I could feel my head starting to bob a bit, and Carmen grabbed my hand reassuringly.聽“Earlier we were talking perfectly, but I think she’s tired now!”

“She’s going to get a strange accent if she learns Spanish from you and 脕ngel,” said Jos茅, a regular and a friend of Carmen鈥檚. Leaning towards me, he introduced himself in the Spanish way — with dos besos and flattery. 鈥淟ook at those eyes.聽Guap铆sima, joder.”

“Really, though,” he said to 脕ngel. “She’s gonna start talking like a cross between a madrile帽a and a South American, don’t you think?”

“I’m Caribbean, co帽o!” 脕ngel said. “There’s a difference!”

鈥淲e should do something next聽weekend, do you want to go to el centro? Or to Segovia?” Carmen asked. “Helen hasn鈥檛 travelled at all yet.鈥

The rest of the night passed in a blur of rapid Spanish 鈥 I was having a hard enough time staying awake and upright in my chair, I didn’t have the mental resources to dedicate to interacting in a foreign language 鈥 but in the end, it was decided: Carmen, 脕ngel, Jos茅 and I would go to Segovia.

And the next weekend, we went!

State vs State

One of my history classes ran into a little English phoneme difficulty today.

Mid-lecture, a student raised her hand and said, “Yes, what is the difference between estate and estate? They are different words? You pronounce them differently?”

Juanra, the teacher I was helping — he’s young, fashionable, and constantly on the brink of despair about his badly-behaved students — replied, “Well, yes, you have estates like the land聽the nobles聽owned, and then you have estates like the United Estates.”

“And you say them聽the same way?”聽

“Well…”

“No,” I said quickly, hoping Juanra would forgive me for cutting him off. “No, they’re different words, they’re pronounced and spelled differently.”

Juanra helpfully wrote the two words on the board for me: ‘State vs. State.’

“One of them has an ‘e’,” I whispered.

“Oh,” he said, looking at the blackboard. “Joder.”聽

“So you say them differently,” I told the class as Juanra added聽an 聽‘e’ on the blackboard. “The first word, the land the nobles owned, that’s an estate. And the second word is just聽state.”

The entire class, in unison, made a confused noise.

“Can you hear the difference?” I asked.

“No,” they said.

Estate,” I said, as clearly as I could. “State.

“Ehm, that is the same word,” one of the students offered helpfully. “You are not saying a different word.”

“Yes, she is,” said Juanra. “She is saying first聽estate and second聽estate.”

“Uh,” I said. “Here, let’s all listen again. In Spanish, y’all don’t have this ‘s’ and ‘t’ sound together in your words, so it can be very hard to hear and make that sound in English. The first word is聽estate. The second word is聽ssstate.”

Essstate?” Juanra asked.

Sssstate.”

“Sssstate,” said one of the students, and then the whole classroom was filled with hissing as they tried, some more successfully than others, to make the ‘s’ sound without adding an ‘e’ to the front of it.

I felt like an English-language superhero.

Like Espiderman.聽