Nothing compares to the Spanish fiesta. Sorry Miami’s Pi Beta Phi, but not only can the Spanish party, they can make it until 6 a.m. the next morning without most of those mishaps you seemed to struggle with (if you don’t get this reference, check out this link http://deadspin.com/5534166/miami-university-had-the-pukiest-poopiest-sexiest-spring-formal-ever). Here, the discotecas don’t even get started until 3 a.m. If you go before 3 a.m., the entry is free, but after that until they close at 9 a.m., you pay your euros. Sadly though, for anyone who knows me at all, you know my bedtime is say… 11… 12 if we are really pushing it. Going to discotecas is a struggle.

Nevertheless, last Thursday, my roommate Loudres turned 22 and so all of the roommates, plus some extra auxiliares, had a lil fiesta at the piso and then headed out to see a band. The band looked like it was straight out of the 60’s: drinkin whiskey on the rocks and smoking on stage, hair that rivaled cousin it’s, and some classy torn bellbottom jeans. Oh, and I think the band members would have also been in their 20’s by 1960… yeah.

Pero más que random bands and discotecas, the ferias are what truly muestra how seriously Spaniards take their parties. For the feria in Jaén capital, there was no school for anyone for an entire week (this is in addition to all normal holiday breaks that are celebrated nationally in Spain). On the fair grounds, white “casetas” are full of paella, Cruzcampo- seriously the only beer I've ever been able to get at a bar in all of Andalucia- and ham legs. The casetas ring the battalion of carny rides and games: a carousel with real ponies, an upside down twister thing that randomly shoots water in your face, a rotating foam platform that you just dance on (I guess), and my personal favorite, the ham lottery.

My mind was totally blown when I passed a hut packed with massive brown meat legs that still had distinguishable hooves and, AND, a carny dude yelling “Gana un jamón, ¡un jamon! Aunque la economía sea mal, no te preocupes, porque aquí ¡puedes ganar un jamón!” Translated: “Win a ham! A HAM! Although the economy is bad, you don’t even have to worry, because here you can win a HAM!” For any unemployed person out there, just get yourself a ham already, joder.

The ham lottery- no joke

Massive paella, migas, ham legs etc. at the fair

The fair was absolutely packed with people throughout the entire day and night- people stayed out until the next morning partying at the casetas with music and copas

The weekend after the fair I went to Malága for Halloween and got an extensive picture of what Spaniards think and do for the strange little holiday. At Marissa’s cousin’s house we actually wound up at a 9 year-olds Halloween party. Every kid was dressed up as some scary gory creature and Michael Jackon’s thriller was put on repeat. Later that night, we went out to the central plaza and discovered it filled with more bloody and mangled people than you would even find in the entire series of "Saw." Our costumes totally fit right in with all the bloody doctors, zombies, vampires, creepy masks, and mutilated figures: we were mimes.

Some Halloween pictures:

Some scenic pictures of the cathedral, the main paseo, and the beach:

Pero al final, not all tapas, feria, and Halloween experiences end well for everyone. Take this guy for instance:

Yes, do you see that? Do you see that? He actually ran into five different cars going the wrong way down the street then crashed through the front of the baby clothes shop (no one was hurt). This happened literally right next to my piso. Afterwards, with Baeza being a small town, all the little abuelitos y madres in pajamas were poking their heads out of apartments along the entire street para averiguar qué pasó. Oh dios mio.

More to come...

Living in Baeza

For the next nine months, tengo el suerte de vivir en an UNESCO World Heritage Site in Baeza, España. I’ll be teaching English at a secondary school, Andrés de Vandelvira, for a whopping twelve hours a week (why I’m getting paid for this is beyond me, but hey, I’ll take it). Although getting to Baeza- which is seriously in the middle of nowhere- after being awake for 24 hours was a bit challenging, I have loved every second of my experience since then.

My piso, or flat, sits on the last street considered to be part of the historic old town. In about 5 minutes, I can walk to the main square, the Renaissance era cathedral, and to about 50- not even exaggerating- different cafés and bars. The cobblestone streets and sidewalks wind and twist in unplanned directions throughout the entire pueblo, finally coming to a stop at a paseo known as “Las Murallas.” Las Murallas form the outskirts of Baeza, leading up to a vista of acres and acres of olive groves that make up the largest olive oil producing region in the world (too bad I don’t actually like olives, right?).

The Cathedral

A view from Las Murallas of the olive groves and another nearby city, Ubeda.

View of Baeza

But just as much as I’m enjoying where I’m living, I’m loving the other English-speaking “auxiliares” who have come to Baeza for the year to teach. Although predominantly American, our group of 11 also consists of two Australians and an English girl. By the end of the year I may end up speaking Australian better than American… recently having added to my vocabulary words and phrases like “wanker,” “heaps fun,” and “prawns on the barbee.” Dubbed “Team Paddock,” we’ve been exploring Baeza’s nightlife and explosion of bars and cafés. For a town of only 16,000 people, this World Heritage Site offers up four different discotecas- which have all recently been packed with little green men from the Guardia Civil (pictures to come).

Back at my piso, I live with another American, one Chilean, two Spanish girls, one Spanish boy and his lovely rat tail, and possibly one Australian by the end of the week. Yeah, there are a lot of us- “somos muchos.” Yet even though we have so many people in our piso, actually getting to live with native Spanish speakers is totally worth it. After all, if it wasn’t for them, I never would have discovered that “Madres a los dieciseis” existe en España (I am sadly addicted to that show, it’s true). Pero en serio, it’s really comforting knowing I have Spanish roommates to ask about our malfunctioning Spanish appliances and certain Spanish swear words that I hear everywhere. 

My room!

I hope you enjoyed my brief overview of life here; I’ll have a lot more detailed entries to come about Spanish food, culture, my trips, job etc.