Sometimes I feel bad for other auxiliares assigned in
Galicia, because every day I'm more convinced that my instituto has the coolest and nicest teachers and staff. My coordinator in specific is mega-awesome, and we have certainly bonded just in the past month. Out of the
entire staff, only three people have not had some sort of conversation explaining
things to me. It used to be four, but today
I asked one the difference between bizcocho and torta. (In English I’d consider
them both cakes, so it’s not worth explaining here) Oftentimes I don’t even
have to ask a question— they just offer comments or cultural tidbits. Such lessons
as “you can’t eat octopus without red wine or by yourself— that’s just
depressing” or “Skip A Coruña because you can find that kind of city in
America.”
On Wednesday to celebrate Magosto, most of the teachers stayed to
have lunch together. There were potatoes and chorizo, accompanied by red wine
and apple empanada for dessert. I had
announced that I don’t like chorizo, which almost seemed a horrifying concept.
I offered to try it again, and to their relief and fascination, it wasn’t half
bad this time. They thought I liked it, but more accurately I didn’t dislike
it. After the meal we went outside where
the kids were listening to techno music and later played traditional games,
including musical chairs. Of course chestnuts were available, too (no,
gracias). So this Magosto was a good chance for both kids and adults to relax
and be autumnal. 