Medieval Kebabs

Writing in the local paper. Local Issues with a global take. I never translate literally and the editor trims at will to make it fit. Here's my version, then theirs.

Walking up the hill from my house and towards the Plaza del Socorro, the smell first hits me. It’s not unpleasant but certainly misplaced. An odor that I definitely wouldn’t expect as I walk to work and it takes me a moment to realize exactly what it is.

I walk under the large tree in the square and realize that what I’m smelling are...donkeys and then I remember, it’s once again the time of year for the "medieval" market in Caceres. A smell that, if you forgive the monstrosity of the prison-like looking Archive to my left, wouldn’t be so out of place among these definitively medieval surroundings.

As a stranger from a country where history was unwritten before the arrival of the Europeans, I always find it curious that once a year so much effort is made to make these streets appear even more…medieval. Renaissance jewels fronted by artisanal kebabs, medieval pizzas and knightly potatoes just don’t seem to jive, no matter how rustic the font used in their signs is. The hand-cranked rides in the Main Square do seem to fit in with the intended atmosphere but the plastic junk from China sold in the stall next to them makes the entire exercise seem a bit forced. But if indeed such jarring contrasts are what they are looking for, why not go a step further? 

How about inviting an upstart IT company to test its 5G along the cobblestone streets and in the process hopefully leave behind fibre optic cables for those us who live behind these walls? What about funding a contest to find ways to make the Arabic tiles, shielding so many building around the country, produce solar energy? Or apps that can scan a building and take the visitor on a virtual tour of what it might have actually looked like some 500 years ago. 

If nothing distinguishes our fair from all the the others that are tented up around Spain and Portugal, rather being a real, interesting attraction that attracts tourists, it ends up being just another place to eat overpriced kebabs, not matter how medieval they are.

Oh, He's Just Playing...

Daily Garden Gnome left by my neighbors

Writing in the local paper. Local Issues with a global take. I never translate literally and the editor trims at will to make it fit. Here's my version, then theirs.

I must have missed the email. Or perhaps the message came via SMS, like the ones Donald can now send out in case of national emergencies and it somehow got lost. I guess it could have been an old fashioned letter but whatever the case is, I didn’t get it. As a result I missed the decree and I am now the only person left in town without a dog. While this may seem an easy enough cross to bear, not owning a dog does come with its inconveniences. Just the other day while attending some Blues festival concerts in el Corral de las Ciguenas and later in Santa Maria, I wasn’t able to fully participate in the shows as those who had brought their dogs could. Without a dog, I couldn’t add to the barking and howling of those around me and I have to admit that I felt a little left out. Then the other day as I sat in a terrace having a caña (wee beer), I think that my relative silence must have annoyed those around me. Just next to me, four, respectable looking middle-aged people sat, talking somewhat loudly as they struggled to hear each other over the constant, sharp barking of the dog that was impatiently wailing from beneath the table. Their impassive faces, as if they didn’t even notice the urgent barking, was surely some sort of signal to me of their disapproval of my doglessness. This sentiment must have also been shared by the three or four other tables with dogs who also joined in with the little terrier under the table. But perhaps my biggest regret is that I can’t repay my neighbors and visitors to the old town who leave little presents every day for me in my street, taking the extra time to liven up my door with some eau de toilette from their little Rover. I’m not sure if my dogless state will result in an infraction or fine, but in a city where they say there are now more dogs than children under five, I hope my own kids don’t scare your animals because, while they may seem ferocious, “they only want to play” and will hopefully help pay your pension in the future. 

Canadian Thanksgiving?

Writing for the Matador Network on my memories of Canadian Thanksgiving and what it meant then and what it means now.

Hibernating Bears and Music Festivals

Writing in the local paper. Local Issues with a global take. I never translate literally and the editor trims at will to make it fit. Here's my version, then theirs.

While it seems that summer doesn’t quite want to let go, it’s that time of year again. The time of year when the croaking of storks, ringing of church bells and clanking of processions are replaced by sounds that are normally heard on the banks of the Liffey, Tajo or Mississippi. Autumn in Caceres means music. A time of year when every other weekend the old town fills up with thousands of people taking advantage of the somewhat cooler evenings in order to enjoy the sounds of eclectic Pop, Irish music, Jazz and Blues in the open air. The normally quiet UNESCO core comes alive with this exchange of cultures from around the world and the more intimate nature of these concerts allows for more relaxed viewing than when the masses invade the city in spring during WOMAD. Children dance and get up close to the band in the calle Moret during the welcoming street party for the Blues festival, amazed that three or four people can get together and create so much fun. The steps in the Plaza Mayor become an impromptu stage as the Irish Fleadh says goodbye for another year and the city vibrates with the positive feelings ringing behind long after the stages have been packed up for another year. But as autumn turns to winter, the nights get longer, the weather becomes less inviting and the clanging of the bells once again becomes the old town’s primary soundtrack, what happens to the music? Unlike the storks that come once a year or the penitents taking the saints out for an airing in spring, music stays with us year around, sliding from the city’s squares indoors to the intimate places where music is born. Every weekend, live music pulses inside one of these rhythm temples, keeping alive through the darker months of winter those beats that give so much life to the city. But if the throngs that danced and laughed in Santa Maria don’t come out to hear it? Unlike the bears of my homeland, music, the musicians that play it and the brave souls that promote it can’t hibernate and without the support of music lovers throughout the year…well it might not make it through the long winter. 

An Odyssey

The regional newpaper HOY has been hosting a series of articles on the state of the University of Extremadura. I was asked to contribute and rather than offer an in-depth academic analysis, I opted to tell my story and experience of working there. 

First the English version:

It came as a complete shock to me. It was during my first weeks teaching in Filosofia y Letras at the University of Extremadura and one day as I walked into class, I noticed a thick, heavy tome weighing down the table in front of one of the young students.

Being curious by nature, I wanted to see what young people were reading beyond Harry Potter. But perhaps what drew my curiosity even more was the size of the book. It was as thick as a dictionary yet from afar I could tell that it was a novel and not a reference book. I walked over and asked the student what they were reading and couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw that it was James Joyce’s Ulysses. I cautiously asked the student if they were reading it for pleasure and was completely floored when he answered that it had been assigned to them to read in another subject. 

Not that it’s a bad book. After all, it is considered to be one of the most important works in modernist literature in English but one that is also extremely difficult to understand, even for educated native speakers of the language. It is a book that makes Goytisolo’s triologia de Alvaro Mendiola look like easy reading and here was an English student that was still struggling with basic verb tenses being asked to read and analyze it. 

I found myself asking, why would something so incredibly dense and difficult be assigned to learners who were just beginning to explore the language? I wondered what possible interpretation could be expected from the learner when even a dictionary would not help clarify some of the puns found in the opus? Was the student being asked to analyze the book on his own or was he simply being asked to memorize what others had written about it? I found myself feeling sorry for the students and began asking myself what exactly was the purpose? A doubt that would continue to plague me while I taught at the University. What were we trying to achieve with these students?

Informal surveys over the years have shown me that at large majority of the students enrolled in the English program at the University had done so because they wanted to become English teachers and those that hadn't would probably end up doing so anyways. Yet the program they were studying had only one elective/optative subject in the whole four year degree that dealt with applied linguistics and not one that specifically focused on methodology or language acquisition. Could this glaring oversight be due to the fact that the next step was a rather expensive Masters that would, in theory, convert the graduates into professionals? Here we had students being assigned Joyce and musty Victorians when they would never use anything even remotely similar in their hoped-for jobs as English teachers. Modern concepts such as corpus linguistics were beginning to creep into the teaching but only to show stylistic patterns in the works of writers long since dead who would never have dreamed of something like Twitter and how it is influencing the way the language is used today. And my doubts were raised again, what is the purpose? Were professors meant to be teachers or researchers? And if they are meant to research, should that research necessarily be related towards what the field of language teaching and acquisition in order to ensure that their students were as up to date as possible? Were these due to an inherent disregard for being 'teachers' and even teaching within the University?

It was only some years later when I began to help people prepare for oposiciones that I would find a possible answer. In my initial confusion to grasp exactly what topics such as the legal history of the United States had to do with language teaching, I suddenly remembered that book on the table and came to a realization. The University wasn't preparing language teachers or even proficient users of the language but instead was readying them to face an arcane exam which itself has no real tangible meaning in relation to the job they would be asked to do if they somehow passed. Rather than preparing them for the job they dreamed of, they are being moulded for the exam that they have to sit in the future in order to get that job.

I have met and had the pleasure to observe some great teachers, both within and beyond the University. I have also heard of a few brave, questioning voices within the system that are raised now and again, but that are also quickly silenced or isolated. The closed, endogmatic nature of the selection process for university teachers ensures this pact of silence. If you want to get on, and get on easily, you learn to keep your head down and which group you need to join, agree with them or not. A truer version of Pablo Iglesia’s casta would be hard to find.

So indeed what is the purpose? Some would argue that it isn’t to create workers for specific jobs, but instead to focus on producing creative thinkers adaptable to any job and they might be right. Yet the mere word philology sounds ancient and Greek to my Canadian ears and memorizing the analysis of others contrary to this purpose. Others might denounce this utilitarian, practical view of University study as neoconservative thought and the antithesis of the Humanities in general. But then I think of that student facing Joyce, armed with the arguments of others and think, there must be another route in this odyssey. 

*In the Spanish version there is a translation error. It should read literatura modernista en ingles rather than literatura modernista inglesa.

Medieval Tests

Writing in the local paper. Local Issues with a global take. I never translate literally and the editor trims at will to make it fit. Here's my version, then theirs.

After having lived here for more than a decade, I still catch myself looking up in wonder as the last rays of the setting sun hit the Torre de la Yerba in the Plaza. The layers of history present as I walk under the Arco de la Estrella send my imagination reeling only to suddenly be brought back to the present when I see groups of tourists taking selfies under it. That mix of tradition, history and modernity, that ability to meld the past with the present is one of this region’s biggest resources. What I can’t understand though is when some things remain firmly mired in the past, frozen in time like the face of the Amazona that cries out from the facade of the Obispado.

These past weeks, thousands of brave opositores have been struggling through an exam process that perfectly fits in with the 16th century palaces that populate our old town. A medieval system that selects the teachers that will then guide our youth through this new age. I can easily envision a table of cloaked monks sitting in Santa Maria while opositores recite what they have memorized without having to internalize nor analyze the content, just as today’s opositores are asked to do. It’s a system so deeply engrained in Spanish culture that it’s the one issue that is never questioned when the prickly topic of bettering the Spanish education system arises. A curriculum more innovative than those of Finland or Canada could be developed, where investigation and project based learning are the pilars but if the very teachers are still koranically memorizing enormous quantities of what will amount to be useless information in order to get the job, what can be expected of them when they actually reach the classroom? The cognitive dissonance between how they are chosen and how teaching is in this new century is a gulf too wide to bridge.

The past and knowledge of it is important but what is crucial is to know when it is time to move on and adopt new ways of thinking before we truly get left behind. It’s like those warts stuck to the Almohad wall that I see as I walk towards the old town, if they have to go, they have to go.

Vino (or Viñu as it is known locally) in the Sierra de Gata

A place close to my heart, just north of here where the scorched summer earth becomes green once again. Cool water runs off the sierra and where the wines are meant to enjoyed, not examined. Writing in Roads and Kingdoms about a toast to an old friend.

Seeing Sounds in Macmillan's Academy Day in Madrid

WOMAD or WOPAP?

video Jorge Rey

Writing in the local paper. Local Issues with a global take. I never translate literally and the editor trims at will to make it fit. Here's my version, then theirs.

I’ve been fortunate enough to play at some of the most famous festivals around the world. From Vancouver to New York, I have seen the stage from the other side and even returned on a few occasions and have been able to appreciate the transformative effect these festivals can have on cities. It would be difficult to image New Orleans without Jazzfest or Chicago without the Blues festival, popular festivals that have become so intertwined with the lives of the cities that it would be impossible to think of one without the other. The music may only last a week but its echo reverberates year round. Could the same be said of WOMAD? True, the festival has brought Caceres to the attention of some around the world but my question is what has it brought back to Caceres in return? Where are the partnerships and initiatives with local associations and startups? After twenty seven years, more than a generation, you would think that some sort of musical partnership would have been formed with an institution like the conservatory to investigate the links between Extremaduran folk music and the rest of the Mediterranean. Or a dance program that explored dances from around the world. How about workshops in schools throughout the year to confront racism? Or instead of complaining every year, how about a plan with the science department of the University to tackle the enormous amounts of garbage and human waste that the festival generates? But no, the English are smart. For centuries they have been selling their brand to lands beyond their isle, reaping the benefits from their colonies and leaving little in return (except their monarchy on occaion). It’s time to ask for something in return. Ghandi, who would have appreciated the original ethos of the festival, once said that the difference between what we do and what we are capable of doing would suffice to solve most of the world’s problems, and here we’re talking about a local scale. The M in WOMAD for music and D for dance should ring throughout the year or if not, the name should be changed to WOPAP. A World Of Plastic And Piss.

A Master Doesn't Necessarily Make you a Master

Writing in the local paper. Local Issues with a global take. I never translate literally and the editor trims at will to make it fit. Here's my version, then theirs.

One of the first questions I ask my students when I start a new course is often one of the most difficult for them to answer. And no, it’s not like a former boss of mine once told me, “The first day of class I look for the most difficult grammar point and then really let them have it.” No, my first question is much more straightforward, yet perhaps even more challenging to answer...that is if the student is being honest with me and more importantly, with themselves. Quite simply I ask them, “Why are you here?” Some go into automatic mode and reply like robots, “because English is very important for my future.” Others with perhaps a bit more experience koranically recite, “because I need it to communicate with clients from abroad.” Then there are those who are brutally sincere and say point blank, “I need the piece of paper.” Not exactly a great start from a learning standpoint but at least they are being honest with me and with themselves. As an educator it pains me to hear this but I completely understand. In a culture that demands paper rather than ability, my class is simply a necessary step (or obstacle) in order to obtain that indispensable piece of paper. For the civil servant position that the student is chasing, they won’t be asked if they can in fact use the language and convert their knowledge into usable skills, what matters is if the numbers in their file tally up more than the next. Rather than checking what they can do, if they are actually good teachers. tourist guides or project managers, if the numbers on the paper add up to more than what the next candidate has, they get the job. Where I come from, your qualifications are important, and of course not falsifying them, but what employers really want to know is what you do for them and their business. You might have a Master from Harvard but what have you done with that knowledge? How have you translated it into a workable skill? Until this focus shifts, cases like the disgraceful Cifuentes Master (among countless others) will continue to remind that this archaic method of measuring ability is just that, archaic. It all brings me back to my ex-boss who never could quite figure out why the students from the States never came back and I’m pretty sure she had more than a few Masters. 

Macmillan Webinars 2018

A new teaching adventure this week, braving the new online, virtual world. I was invited to participate in some online training with Macmillan in Madrid which was beamed to the world.

The first session, Bing, Bang, Boom, Boing and Baa: onomatopoeia and the importance of sounds in the YL classroom, was a fun look at bringing sounds to life. Making the sounds of English visual and while it was aimed at YLs, the main ideas are equally valid across all levels and ages. 

The second session, Harnessing the Image Zeitgeist in a Visual World, or as I had subtitled it in my mind, Grabbing Learners' Attention in a Post-Text World, was an in depth look how images can be more than just pretty pictures in coursebooks. Ways to make classrooms into 2-way streets, which exchanges going in both directions. 

I look forward to exploring more of this type of training in the future. Thanks to all who participated!