Spanish Fly

Doing this kind of thing isn’t always easy you know. Inspiration doesn’t grow on trees sadly. Constantly trying to come up with clever and witty ideas that are not only entertaining but also suit my (some might say limited) style is not something that comes naturally.

Ideas are like constipation. You know there is one there, waiting to come out but its not always easiest to get it out of you. The more you push it…the harder it seems. And just like constipation as long as its stuck in there, life is a pain and you never ever to properly relax.

If you ask any doctor what’s the best way to deal with these things, they might advise that prevention is better than the cure. Eat plenty of fibre and make sure you don’t eat too much junk food. Well this writing lark is kind of the same.

I try to hang out with inspiring people (they being the metaphorical fibre) and I try not to watch too much rubbish on TV (the junk food). I’ve spoken before about how T.V. can rot your brain and is at least partially responsible for the increase in the amount of stupid fuckmonkeys you see walk the streets these days. So I won’t dwell on the negative.

I’m very lucky person in that my friends are, almost to a man, intelligent, erudite and funny people. Everyone of them possesses a sense of humour that marks them out as special. I draw a lot from their friendships. And when I say draw I sometimes mean outright steal…but they love me so they forgive me.

I could write an article on each one of them and how they are an important part of my life and how they give me cause to celebrate knowing them. But I won’t. A little of that is because I’m incredibly lazy. Part of that is because some of them have enormous egos and I’m not about to feed that. (You know who you are, you big headed bastard.)

This last week I have been incredibly fortunate to have made a lot of new friends. I went on my second Pueblo Ingles programme. Pueblo Ingles is an English language immersion programme for Spaniards to improve their grasp on everyday use of the old Queens English.

It is kind of a cross between Big Brother and that episode of The Simpsons where Bart goes to France as an exchange student. Taken from their homes and families and transplanted into a village in the middle of nowhere 21 Spanish Nationals (and Juan, who was from Chile) where surrounded by 22 native English speakers, talking complete nonsense in a variety of accents and speeds.

Intimidating and scary is probably putting it mildly. How would you feel if you in a situation where you felt like you would spend a week not understanding a word that anyone said to you. Imagine you had to communicate with strangers for 13 hours a day and not being unsure if anything you say makes sense.

This is Pueblo Ingles.

My role there was to spend my waking hours chatting to Spanish people. Get them used to my accent (tirty tree not thirty three) and my way of talking. Even though it was my second programme I was still a little nervous. It was one thing if I could make them understand my Jimmy Rabbite accent I still had to manage to be entertaining and interesting from 9 in the morning till at least 11 at night or as happened on more that one occasion 6 the following morning.

What if they didn’t get my sense of humour? What if they sensed I was bit of charlatan? ‘You call yourself a writer? And yet you have published nothing’ they might say. What if they just thought I was really boring? The last time I did the programme I was very lucky that the group of people I was with where all lovely people. Surely the law of averages dictates that this group was going to be full of assholes?

Not at all. I’m so happy to report that this group was just as nice as the first. Everyone was open and honest. Prepared to talk about anything as long as you were willing to listen and able to understand. I love Spanish people. They are so genuine that it took a while for someone as cynical as me to believe it was true. They are warm people, friendly and very comfortable with themselves. They think nothing of giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder, just because you are standing there.

In the last week, people who I did not know two weeks ago, told me stuff about their families, their jobs, life ambitions, hobbies, losses and fears. We spoke as if we had been friends for years. In return I tried to return the openness and was always as honest as possible.

Bonds of friendships were forged over the course of the week. Many bottles of rioja (I’m actually gone a bit off red wine at the moment,) cerveza and Cuba libre where shared. Stories and anecdotes from each of our lives told. Group activities and theatre showed everyone was open and up for a laugh.

All of these united us but nothing as strongly as the beauty of the English Language in the form of swear words. We imparted all the knowledge we could in relation to abusing and insulting other people, how to deal with stressful situations, shouting at a soccer referee and how to tell a lady you enjoyed her appearance, (Nice Funbags.)

Yes, I know swearing isn’t big or clever, but it can be very funny…kind of like me.

By the end of the week I felt I had made some real friends with people who I wouldn’t normally get an opportunity to meet. High level business men with intense jobs, Spanish Senoritas who are ‘so lovely’, New Zealand grannies and two English People who reminded me so much the friends who I have had since I went to college 15 years ago, that I had to check that I hadn’t gone and sat in some kind Delorean or Hot Tub Time Machine.

One of these English people pointed out something on Saturday as we were having a stroll around the Reterio in Madrid. On Friday night when the course was over and Spanish people no longer ‘had’ to speak to each other in English and could go back to their mother tongue, they didn’t. They continued to speak to us in a English. Not because they had to, but because they wanted to talk to us. Their friends.

I would also like to mention two Spanish ladies from my last Pueblo Ingles programme who came in to meet me when I was in Madrid. The beautiful Mayte who works long days (well when she is on time) and then comes in to see a ‘giddy’ like me and the lovely Inma who on her day off drove me to see the medieval town of Toledo. Thank you both very much even if Inma’s driving was a little scary. I’m joking of course. (not really)

I learned a lot this week. Some very handy Spanish swear words. That putting on a pink straw hat does not look good on me. That just because you’re a self conscious Irishman you can still just reach out and put your arm around someone and be friendly (probably not in Ireland though). Mostly I (re)learned that being with Spanish people is a great way to spend your time.

Altruism

As part of a much improved week, last week I had a meeting. I think in my head I thought of it as interview. I researched. I prepared. I thought about what I should wear. I even got a haircut. When I get there it was definitely not an interview. It was a very friendly chat about my wanting to do some volunteer work.

I was meeting with a lovely woman called Jean who is the Volunteer coordinator for a group called Fighting Words. It was founded by Roddy Doyle and is a centre which encourages kids to explore creative writing as a means of expressing themselves and finding their individuality. As I said a couple of weeks ago writing is something which I felt helped me find my own voice when I was younger so this seemed like a good opportunity to give some of that back. It also sounds like a lot of fun.

The way it works is that classes of kids come in and they workshop the first part of a story. They then go off and individually write an ending for that story. At the end of the session they are presented with a book of their story, including illustrations drawn by artists and with their photo on the back. Like a real book.

Sounds pretty cool to me. So I volunteered to help out. I’m not sure exactly what I’ll be doing just yet. Probably just helping with spelling or something. The way I look at it, I’ve got plenty of time on my hand and if there is some way I can help some one else find a passion for writing then I’m there. I forgot mine for long enough that I feel I owe it something.

This is the latest of my volunteering efforts. For someone who has over the years tended to be a bit self centred and dismissive of others good deeds it’s a bit of a change. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not volunteering because I’m a wonderful human being. I have time on my hands and get easily bored. Its like Joey in Friends (or was it Immanuel Kant) said. There is no such thing as a truly selfless act.

I recently volunteered to help out at the Jameson Dublin Film Festival. When I went to meet with them it was a very different experience to my Fighting Words meeting. It was a Saturday morning in the Savoy Cinema. There was between 15 and 20 people there for the same meeting. Everyone standing around the foyer of the cinema, no one really sure what was going on. Was this the right place to be? It was a very strange experience. Looking around trying to make some kind of connection with someone who knew what was happening.

It was a very timid crowd. Maybe it was because of the type of event it was? It attracted shy movie geeks who didn’t really know how to interact with strangers? I was desperate to just go up and start chatting to people. I just wanted to shout out “Talk to me, I’m funny.” But it looked like I might have scared them.

When finally we were shepherded into screen 2 to meet the volunteer co-ordinator the isolation continued as everyone point blank refused to sit beside anyone else. A regulation gap of one empty seat between each person appeared. I couldn’t do it. It just seemed too sad. So ignoring the protocol set out by my fellow free time givers I sat down beside the person who had gone ahead of me. She looked at me like I had two heads. I smiled and made some remark. Some quip that in my head sounded like a hilarious ice breaker. Judging by the look on her face it made me sound like a sex offender.

I looked to my right to see if anyone had followed my lead and decided that we were, in fact, all going to be working together and that there was no need to be shy. They hadn’t. In fact they too seemed to take my boldness as some sort of perversion and doubled the normal space that should be between us.

As I sat through the coordinators pompous and bloated chat about how he does this for the festival and the festival is great because he works for it and the festival changed cinema in Ireland because he has been volunteering for 8 years I started to question my motives. Then the supercilious clown started to evangelize Korean cinema and derided anyone who was going to go see Shutter Island during the festival.

I knew I only wanted to go see a few free movies. Between already being a pariah with co-volunteers and the coordinator being a complete tool I was pretty sure that this endeavour wasn’t for me. Normally I wouldn’t like to waste anyone’s time. But for this guy I’d make an exception.

As it turns out, my kind offer to help out was declined (I just sound bitter now.) Apparently, in what I guess is a sign of the times, they had over 400 applications for just under 200 positions. With unemployment on the rise, people have more time on their hands. And who wouldn’t want a free ticket to see Alice in Wonderland 3-D. (Me actually, I hate Tim Burton.)

Of course my recent dalliances with altruism started in October. I was in need of a holiday after escaping the evil clutches of Fraud Analysis. Money was tight so I needed to find something that would be cheap and interesting. So in situations like that I always resort to my friend and yours. Google. I entered the terms “volunteering” and “Europe” it brought be back a list of things and one of the options on that list was Pueblo Ingles.

Pueblo Ingles (or English Village to give it its literal translation) is a programme run in various locations around Spain, where Spanish people can go to improve their English. The programme is an intense experience for them as they are totally immersed for 8 days in the English language. From the moment they arrive for breakfast at 9 til bed time they have to speak English. The volunteers are all native English speakers and the only real skill they need is to be able to talk…a lot.

For me it was an amazing experience. Firstly the location was amazing. In a beautiful valley surrounded on all sides by mountains. It made getting mobile phone coverage impossible, which was fantastic. It completely took you out of the real world and there was only you and your Pueblo Ingles compatriots for the week.

The people I met were amazing. The Spanish people were so open and warm. For them it seemed a big deal that people would come and help them with their English without any monetary reward. They were very willing to talk about themselves and their culture in a foreign language. It must have been incredibly difficult for them.

They ‘Anglos’ or English speakers were fantastic too. There seemed to be a real sense of appreciation for the opportunity we had. Everyone made the utmost effort to helpful with the Spanish. It was also an opportunity for me to meet and chat to some people who I wouldn’t necessarily allow myself to get to know.

While it all sounds lovely it wasn’t all chats and tea. By the end of the week I found myself really tired of the sound of my own voice. As someone who enjoys his own company and is quite happy to spend hours (days sometimes) not talking to anyone it was hard to give up that liberty. Literally from dawn to dusk you are chatting and being social. Sometimes its hard to listen to someone who you know understands but can’t put their thoughts into words.

But its worth it. It is an amazing experience. One I hope to repeat again in May. I really can’t wait. I get to sample again the Spanish lifestyle which I’m much more suited to (siestas…greatest invention ever) It gives me a chance to meet and make new friends. And hopefully I will see some of my friends from my previous programme.

There really is a lot to be said for volunteering. It is a great way to kill time. You sometimes get free stuff (food, t-shirts). You feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You get to meet some good people.

Oh and other people get some benefit too. What’s not to like?

For those of you wondering about my to do list from last week I’m proud to report that I did all bar one of the items on the list. I wrote to the author Mike Gayle and he wrote back to me. He confirmed what I suspected from his book and website and is a really cool bloke. He also looked at my blog…which made me feel all warm and fuzzy at first. Then disappointed because it was my negative effort. Oh well. Onwards and upwards. I’m going to email some more authors and see if I can’t get them to have a look…sure why not. Now…who’s first?