el meu futur...no sé que fer. Perdut...i fotut?

Having a sprained ankle and supposedly being down for close to two weeks and counting (I've made a few trips to close places in the neighbourhood to escape boredom, and I've walked to private classes across the Zubizuri...and probably a bit more than I should.) has given me a lot of time to think and ponder stuff, mainly the future.

I have accepted the renewal for next year. For the most part, I like my school and my coworkers, it's close to Bilbao, and they've been super understanding with time off during Anklegate 2014.

As to the future beyond next year? I'm clueless. I'm clueless at what will make me happy and what I want. I just know that I cannot continue this cycle of what I'm doing. One or two years in one place and then having to move because of idiotic Spanish laws. While I loved my school in Madrid, the city is a toxic place for me. Valencia and Bilbao aren't toxic, and I would love to try my hand at Barcelona.

I am frustrated financially and emotionally. I make 700Euro a month, which is about $1000 American. My rent is 300, which I pay with cash from the few private lessons I have. I get paid every three months. I am looking at going from April until November without getting paid. We don't have money for me to go to the States, and plus my visa is up for renewal on July 1st, which requires me to be around Spain as I have to do everything within a set amount of time from when letters arrive, etc.

And this job is pretty much the only way I can get a visa to stay in Spain legally.

Emotionally? I am wanting a place to call home, roots. I like Bilbao as a city, but it is hard to meet people as most are like me, reserved, into their own world. (In fact, not going into nationalism terms, but the Basque world, while we are aware of things going on in the world, is like a bubble that not even the rest of Spain, if it is indeed Spain, penetrates well.

Ideally, I think what I would like to do is a master in Barcelona and make Barcelona my home. I do worry that it will have a lot of the same problems as Madrid in that there are a lot of people, a lot of idiotic tourists everywhere, and stress stress stress (and Plaça Catalunya doesn't serve relaxing café con leches like Plaza Mayor I hear.) However, there is something about "Països Catalans" that is calling my name. It's Barcelona, Girona or València (sorry valencianos, però he de dir "Països Catalans perquè parle de València i Catalunya) that is speaking to me.

However, I don't have the money.

I am considering "homologar" my Spanish degree for a cost of at least 300 Euro and six months to a year, which involves my tracking down every university syllabi and translating all my transcripts (the 300 Euro minimum comes here) and trying to get a job at a private school in Barcelona or Valencia (or Bilbao). This has no guarantee.

And then there is grad school in the United States and returning to Spain for the master. I don't think it would be too hard to get into a program, but the problem is with my freaking speech impediment which makes my Spanish sound much worse than it really is. Yeah, all those problems with "Rs" and "ls" in English show up a lot more in a language that relies on them. This is why I was not accepted in 2008. I've read freaking Quijote in Spanish, yet people treat me as if I don't even know "hola".

One thing on my mind is the fact that perhaps my lack of confidence in speaking due to these speech impediments which then impedes me on meeting people and making friends and causing me to be more lonely than I already am...and I am pretty introverted as it is. But that's another thought for another time.

At any rate, this is all on my mind. And I know next year is most likely my last year doing the current auxiliar program. Seven years is enough, oi? I just wish I knew what was next.

el meu setmana blanca

In Bilbao, most schools have a week off for Carnivales, or Semana Blanca. I took advantage of this week and made the best of it.

I caught a flight from Madrid at 6:40 Saturday morning to go to Ibiza, perhaps the most famous party island in the world. I wanted to see the island in off-season to actually see more than drunken tourists. It was a constant surprise of beauty and tranquility, a place I want to see again. A beautiful church in Santa Euraria, Dalt Villa in Ibiza Town and it's meandering streets looking over the sea. There was very little fiesta in March, but that's not what I was looking for. I was looking for a rejuvenating vacation, and that was what I was rewarded with.

Monday I took the ferry to neighbouring small island, Formentera, the complete antithesis of it's neighbour. Sparsley populated and immensely beautiful (well, that part isn't the opposite). I had planned on renting a bike to see the island, but the wind and my sudden seasickness put a damper on that idea. I hiked to Sant Francesc, which was a charming village, and along the coast, which was spectacular.

I flew back to Madrid and spent the night so I could visit my old school. While I hate Madrid, my school felt exactly like home. I didn't realise I missed so many great people there, and even my worst classes, the ones that gave me hell, were excited to see me and told me they wanted me back.

Back to Bilbao, and I had one day of "rest" (IE, tons of errands).

Yesterday was an adventure. I finally crossed off that every year goal of trying snowboarding, and boy, was it worth the wait. I loved it. The kids were typical Basque teenagers, who spoke only in Spanish on the bus and then spoke only Basque when they were around anyone from the rest of Spain (the ski resort was on a mountain in La Rioja, and the 16ºC meant that there wasn't much snow to practice on.)

The kids ignored the lessons which made it harder for me to pick up on the cani accent of the instructor. But I got the hang of it. Or so I thought.

It was a disorganised mess in the way all Spanish (and Basque) school excursions are. I can't believe none of the students got killed. I hope none of them got pregnant as there was no way to keep track of them.

And then after lunch, I was practising some more, and decided to go for a slope a little bit more difficult. Not a wise idea. In trying to avoid a skier who had stopped in the middle of the slope, I ended up falling, and I am shocked the sprained ankle wasn't an actual break. I can actually already walk without it hurting.

It's not a deterence to never snowboard again. It's a motivation to find more practice for snowboarding next winter, as I think spring has arrived already, although autumn never changed to winter here.