23-F--An Important Date In Spanish History

Spain, believe it or not, is a relatively young democracy. In the years following World War I, Spain went from one dictatorship to a monarchy, and then to a democracy with the exile of King Alfonso XIII in 1931. Between the years of 1931 and 1936 that the Spanish government became more "liberalized." Women were given the right to vote; there was a separation of church and state.

During this time, a young military leader named Francisco Franco campaigned and was voted into power in 1936. He then started the Spanish Civil War, which lasted from 1936 until 1939. It has been described as "one of the bloodiest and most violent wars in recent history." There are even sources to suggest that Franco's bombings of Guernica and Durango were the start of "modern" war. Those holding out against Franco (the Second Republic) lost due to the support given to Franco by Hitler and Mussolini during those years.

Franco's dictatorship lasted 35-years. This time in Spanish history is marked by extreme censorship, fear, and constant political "disappearances." As the people became more and more upset and started to revolt, Franco repressed them even further. The cultural changes that occurred can still be seen in Spanish culture today, though, of course is less apparent in those of my generation.

Franco died in 1975. He named the (current) Spanish King, Juan Carlos as his successor, having educated the young king in his own personal leadership beliefs. However, Juan Carlos started converting the government into a democracy. Within three years, Spain had a new constitution and was a "full-fledge" democracy. By 1986, Spain was accepted in the EU.

But before that, on February 23rd, 1981, the young Spanish democracy was challenged. Today, thirty years ago, another military leader, Antonio Tejero, walked into the Spanish Congress and shot 3 times into the ceiling in an attempted coup d'etat. Those bullet holes are still there today. For 18 hours, no Spaniard knew what was going to happen to their young country.

For the Spanish, this day is something like the day JFK died or 9/11 for us: Everyone always asks, "Where were you? What were you doing?"My roommates have told me that their parents were called home from school early. People ran to the stores and bought up as many provisions as they possible could. Ana's father, who was part of the Communist Party, went into hiding. His family didn't have any idea where he was for a full 48 hours. Within 24 hours, and even with over 200 soldiers making his threat visible, Tejero turned himself into the authorities.

There was a full 2-page spread about the events today in "ADN," a free newspaper for reading on the Metro. It talked about what happened in those hours, how the media played a hand in keeping the people informed, and, of course, answering the question: "Where were you?" Almost everyone remembers the tense, Purgatory-like atmosphere. Some were so young that it didn't matter, others went into hiding. My favorite: a 29-year old engineer from Barcelona: "It was 30 years ago today that I was conceived. My parents have always told me that they were looking to have another kid and, seeing what was happening, that day they just thought "We have nothing to loose now" and here I am today."

Coming to theaters today is a film simply entitled "23-F." It talks about the hours leading up to the overtake of the government. I plan on going to see it. I'll let you know how it is.


Sources from:
http://www.whatspain.com/franco-spain.html

http://www.infoplease.com/ipa/A0107987.html?pageno=2

You know, "peine" sounds an awful lot like...

I made biscuits today. That's right--me + biscuits. It was amazing. I had such a hankering for a good, big, warm biscuit. I couldn't shake it. I tried to tell myself how fattening they were. I tried to tell myself that it was just a whim. I tried to tell myself how hard it is to make biscuits.

But I couldn't deny myself. Call it homesickness, call it a whimsical fantasy. Those biscuits-that little bit of home-was just calling me.

So I made them! I made the dough the night before, then got up earlier than usual and baked myself a fresh batch of piping-hot biscuits with a tomato and mushroom omelet. AH-mazing. Don't worry, I didn't eat them all. I ate 2 and put them away.

They were so wonderful that I had to make another batch for my friends when they came over earlier tonight. I admittedly ate more of those. They didn't raise as high as my first, but it's ok. They were still delicious--and that's what matters.

Looking over my past entries, I believe I have committed a grave error: I haven't mentioned the adult ESL class that I've been heading for the past 2 months. The opportunity came in November, just before Natalie came. One day, I was just hanging out in the teacher's area at school, when relations were at their worst between those bilingual and those not, when the head principal of the school approached me. He asked me if I would like to lead the conversation section of an adult beginners English course. I immediately said yes.

Part of being a Fulbright Teaching Assistant is having a "side project"--or something to keep you busy when you're only working part time. My side project was trying to involve the community, and to increase mutual understanding of culture through that. I mean, I did help head an ESL program for two years, after all. Guess I could use that experience somehow.

Naturally this English class was just what I was looking for. My side project basically crawled into my lap and sat gurgling up at me. How could I say no? Since November I have been teaching adults every Monday night for an hour and a half. The best part of the class is who these people are. They are teachers that I interact with everyday. Suddenly, I wasn't a threat: I was accessible. No longer were the conversations that were held in English between me and my fellow bilingual teachers resented. After just one class, the atmosphere in the teachers' room changed. It was incredible. People became a lot more understanding of and friendly to the bilingual program.

My adult ESL class is a joy to teach. I have such a cast of characters in there. They range from the ages of 30 to 60. They are all intent on learning. We have fun. We laugh. The other day, to learn the names of food, Anabel lent me some of those plastic food-shaped toys. We played a round of "This is a _____." "A what?" They loved it. My students, my colleagues, were torn between the ridiculousness of the game and attempting to remember what the word was in English for the vegetable they had in hand. Did I tell you I have a priest in my class? Oh, boy--is he a riot.

The priest is a riot. He cusses like a sailor, then turns to me and proudly states, "I bet you don't have priests like me back home, eh? Well, when you go home, you can tell them that Spanish priests curse!" Every morning we go through the same routine every day (I mean, he is Catholic, what do you expect?) where he stops everything he's doing, focuses on me, and painstakingly pronounces, "Goo. Mooring. Sah-mahn-ta." I greet him in turn, always with a smile.

This one student is just an example, naturally, to show you the color in my class.

Class was proceeding as normally last Monday. We were going over daily routines ("I get up at...," "I get dressed," "I eat breakfast," etc.). After the very basics, I asked the class if there were other routines they would like know. More standards came up: "I brush my teeth," "I put on makeup," etc. Then came "I brush my hair" versus "I comb my hair." I explained that it's the same as Spanish: it depends on which instrument you're using. The class discussed it between themselves. One of the students then said the Spanish word for comb (peine) and the corresponding verb (peinarse-to comb one's hair).

That's when I opened my mouth, repeated the word for comb in Spanish, mispronounced it, and, instead, said "penis." 

Opps. I had a laugh, recovered, and continued teaching. Oh good times. The best part is that I don't feel embarrassed. That stuff happens all the time. Instead, it makes a great story. I hope you laughed! 

The last event I will write about today was my field trip with a class that I don't teach. We went to Casa de Campo, which is still inside the city nowadays, but was the King's country place to escape the hustle and bustle of Madrid. I was invited Wednesday, and couldn't turn down a day of riding bikes around the park, rowing on the miniature lake, and then a free lunch while the kids went swimming in an indoor pool. 

The line of bikes as we did an off-bike activity

It was a lovely day. Crisp, but not too cold. I had a lot of fun. Gabi, the other T.A. at my school, and I headed up the back of the biking group, wearing garish yellow hazard vests. The ride was enjoyable and easy. It felt so good to ride a bike. I was pleasantly pleased that most of the kids in the class also knew how to ride a bike. I feel like doing so is a bit of a dying talent. 

The kids behaved themselves, with only one temper tantrum. I was able to enjoy the company of my colleagues and to disfrutar de (to enjoy) the day. It was a lovely little excursion, a nice change from the monotony of school and routine. Add that in with some light exercise and a free (and absolutely delicious) lunch--it was a great day!

Me, Gabi, and Ricardo (Arts Teacher)

I also need to start taking more pictures again: This blog is starting to look a little too wordy.