The time is currently 1am in the morning, for some reason my Itunes has rather depressingly found its way onto a rather questionable Rod Stewart collection and 'I've Got A Crush On You' is unfortunately blaring its way out of my laptop.
When I first came to Spain it can be easily said that i did not have a single clue of what i was doing or what i was getting myself into. Yes i probably should have done some more research as to the weather climate (today is the fourth day in the row i have attempted to hitch hike in torrential rain, and is also the fourth day in the row that i regretted leaving my hiking boots at a friends house and decided to only bring plimsoles, and not having a pair of breasts.) To be honest a larger understanding of the language could have been a bright idea as well. Today I was surrounded by a crowd of teenagers getting me to say the same word over and over again, to which they would then cackle with laughter every time i said it wrong. Half an hour later and i cannot still say the word boa. Apparently its a lot harder than it seems.
I should probably also have come up with a Spanish compatible name. Josh as it turns out, when said by a posh, private schooled English boy is quickly degenerated into George and hence you become 'George the English guy.'As someone pointed out to me the other day: 'I am sure if someone came to UK and we struggled to say their name, there would some stupid politically correct rule as to why we couldnt change their name.'
First thoughts upon coming here went something along the lines of 'YAY! free holiday.' Upon arrival i had decided i was going to change these kids lives. I was to be Josh! SuperAuPair. Last week I made the decision that I was going to come home and work as an assistant chef on a boat and yesterday I broke the news that I was leaving to Elisa. To this she responded 'I'm going to miss you,' and gave the biggest bear hug a little kid can manage. She then came out with something rather profound for a small kid. 'Josh, its just quite hard. You live in Spain for a while and you really start to miss the friends and family you have in England but then you get to England and you really miss the friends you made in Spain.' This is a kid that when told what shes having for lunch just jumps around chanting the words 'mozorella' and 'pizza' and also likes to play a game that I've started to call selective amnesia.
Most days after lunch we go downstairs to the apartment and just draw and paint whatever. The last picture she did was of the family: Mamma, Fausta, Christiano, Pappa, Olmo and finally me. The night before that she did a 'concerto for George' where she banged her little heart out on her toy bongo drum and sang about the fact that i have a long nose and also a very long body. I might not have gotten her to be able to pronounce her 'h's' or for her to talk the Queen's English, her pictures may not be a work of art and the 'concerto for George may have wanted to make windows shatter' but i might also have given her an older, much taller, English brother and to me, that, is making a difference.
No comments:
Post a Comment