And so it was to the Roman town and medieval city of Jaca, population 12,000, (declared a city and capital of the region by Ramiro I when retaken by the Christians from the Moors in 760), moments south of the French border. I only had about an hour and a half’s exams there, making the four-hour round trip more of a chance to see the roads through and along the mountains than examine candidates, as you can see from the first of today’s pictures. My timetable here in Huesca, and 
Jaca, has been a little more varied than normal owing to the local centre rep, a middle aged ex-pat lady, being one who doesn’t quite seem to have got the hang of organisation yet and her side-kick, an American twenty-year-old woman, who reinforces enough stereo-types to make you think that Dickens was right to use them so liberally in his writings. Having spent much of her life in the Bronx, the buoyant American girl, of Spanish heritage, speaks with a thick, loud (it’s necessary to step back) New Yorker accent and is keen to draw comparisons with US and Spanish soccer at every opportunity, partly due to her interest in the game as she plays for the Zaragozan women’s team. I understand they’re in the ‘King’s Cup’ semi-finals this weekend, don’t you know?
Jaca, has been a little more varied than normal owing to the local centre rep, a middle aged ex-pat lady, being one who doesn’t quite seem to have got the hang of organisation yet and her side-kick, an American twenty-year-old woman, who reinforces enough stereo-types to make you think that Dickens was right to use them so liberally in his writings. Having spent much of her life in the Bronx, the buoyant American girl, of Spanish heritage, speaks with a thick, loud (it’s necessary to step back) New Yorker accent and is keen to draw comparisons with US and Spanish soccer at every opportunity, partly due to her interest in the game as she plays for the Zaragozan women’s team. I understand they’re in the ‘King’s Cup’ semi-finals this weekend, don’t you know? *
The examining in Jaca was unremarkable. However, there was a candidate who took a different approach to giving directions. The idea is this: I show a picture of a town and ask how to get from A to B, eliciting phrases such as, ‘turn left’ and, ‘it’s on your right’. Upon asking how to get from the post office to the school on the map, rephrasing when met with a blank expression, the girl simply came out with, “by car”. Clearly.
The examining in Jaca was unremarkable. However, there was a candidate who took a different approach to giving directions. The idea is this: I show a picture of a town and ask how to get from A to B, eliciting phrases such as, ‘turn left’ and, ‘it’s on your right’. Upon asking how to get from the post office to the school on the map, rephrasing when met with a blank expression, the girl simply came out with, “by car”. Clearly.
*
As mentioned, my trip to Jaca by bus was interesting enough, but of greater importance to me was the ordering of a beer and salmon and cheese roll at the station cafe before I left on my journey -ordered and delivered without the need for repetition, pointing or quizzical or bored looks from the server. Thinking that my Spanish was making small steps forward, I boarded the bus with a spring in my step and thoughts that with a little more practice I’d be holding witty conversations over rioja and olives or something.
As mentioned, my trip to Jaca by bus was interesting enough, but of greater importance to me was the ordering of a beer and salmon and cheese roll at the station cafe before I left on my journey -ordered and delivered without the need for repetition, pointing or quizzical or bored looks from the server. Thinking that my Spanish was making small steps forward, I boarded the bus with a spring in my step and thoughts that with a little more practice I’d be holding witty conversations over rioja and olives or something.
*
Once the examining in Jaca was over, I had half-an-hour to kill before my bus back 
to Huesca (over 1 ½ hours). Thinking I’d need a quick nibble to keep me sustained on the journey, I sat outside at the cathedral-side cafe (pictured, just visibible to the lower left) for a beer and to order a small cheese and ham roll. Growing in my confidence using Spanish, what could stop me? Asking for a ‘queso y jamon bocadillo’, the bored and weighty waitress seemed to ask if I wanted both cheese and ham. I repeated my ‘bocadillo’ bit and away she went coming back first with my beer and then, as time was beginning to run out, with my food order.
to Huesca (over 1 ½ hours). Thinking I’d need a quick nibble to keep me sustained on the journey, I sat outside at the cathedral-side cafe (pictured, just visibible to the lower left) for a beer and to order a small cheese and ham roll. Growing in my confidence using Spanish, what could stop me? Asking for a ‘queso y jamon bocadillo’, the bored and weighty waitress seemed to ask if I wanted both cheese and ham. I repeated my ‘bocadillo’ bit and away she went coming back first with my beer and then, as time was beginning to run out, with my food order. *
To my surprise, my roll was in fact two large plates filled with food (pictured), one packed with cheese and ham, the other stacked with toasted bread – enough for four easily. Could she not see I was just one? Had I not asked for just a bocadillo? Either way, there was nothing to do but tuck in, as I was keen to make the most of my now expensive and considerable repast before I had to scarper for the bus. I was hoping to get a quick visit to the cathedral in too, which meant a bit of speed eating. Thankfully, the normal pale yellow hard cheese was supplemented by a little goats’ cheese, brie and something smoked; some walnuts and little slices of qui
nce also helped the quantity go down. At times like that I have to wonder whether it was just a good chance to off-load some left over bits of cheese and going-off bread on a tourist without the ability to do anything but eat and pay. The unfortunate part of the whole business was that after dashing down the great quantity of yet more cheese and ham (that’s mostly what I eat as it’s what I know how to say), I popped inside the cafe to use the ‘servicio’, and saw on the counter a mouth watering range of reasonably priced tapas which I’d unknowingly passed up on. Still, bloated as I ended up boarding the bus, I didn’t need to eat again when I got back to the hotel. It sometimes seems like one step forward and three steps back...
To my surprise, my roll was in fact two large plates filled with food (pictured), one packed with cheese and ham, the other stacked with toasted bread – enough for four easily. Could she not see I was just one? Had I not asked for just a bocadillo? Either way, there was nothing to do but tuck in, as I was keen to make the most of my now expensive and considerable repast before I had to scarper for the bus. I was hoping to get a quick visit to the cathedral in too, which meant a bit of speed eating. Thankfully, the normal pale yellow hard cheese was supplemented by a little goats’ cheese, brie and something smoked; some walnuts and little slices of qui
nce also helped the quantity go down. At times like that I have to wonder whether it was just a good chance to off-load some left over bits of cheese and going-off bread on a tourist without the ability to do anything but eat and pay. The unfortunate part of the whole business was that after dashing down the great quantity of yet more cheese and ham (that’s mostly what I eat as it’s what I know how to say), I popped inside the cafe to use the ‘servicio’, and saw on the counter a mouth watering range of reasonably priced tapas which I’d unknowingly passed up on. Still, bloated as I ended up boarding the bus, I didn’t need to eat again when I got back to the hotel. It sometimes seems like one step forward and three steps back...*
Changing location after this evening’s examining to a hotel owned by the owner of the next centre - nice. Only it’s not called a hotel, it’s called a ‘casa’ on my itinerary. I get the impression I’m going to be in someone’s guest bedroom. We’ll know more by about 22:30 tonight. And so to the unknown we go once more.
Changing location after this evening’s examining to a hotel owned by the owner of the next centre - nice. Only it’s not called a hotel, it’s called a ‘casa’ on my itinerary. I get the impression I’m going to be in someone’s guest bedroom. We’ll know more by about 22:30 tonight. And so to the unknown we go once more.
I am assuming from your silence that the casa is not equipped with broadband...
ReplyDeleteDoes it even have a phone? I know it's more than 10 years since I lived in Spain (and times have changed - I hear most people now believe Franco is dead) but having a phone in one's flat was the height of luxury.
Jenni
No, no phone. It did have a microwave, though and no portrait of Franco. Thankfully back in Zaragoza and the modern world now.
ReplyDeleteBen