Trip Reports - Woo Hoo... I'm on my way to a Spanish adventure!

I just found out today that I'll be heading to Spain tomorrow for a lovely adventure. This will be the first installment of a trip report/journal that will be a work in progress for about 10 days.

First, let me tell you that I heard about "Englishtown" somewhere on Flyertalk... and of course, I cannot remember the wonderful individual who posted the link. So I do apologize to my anonymous benefactor, and ask that he/she identify him/herself if you happen to read this.

Englishtown is the name of a "place" run by a Spanish company to bring Spaniard businesspeople together with those of us who speak English as our first language, so the Spaniards will start to "hear" the language beyond the language lessons they've had. An English-speaking participant promises not to speak Spanish at all... in fact, you can't even let on that you know/understand any Spanish at all. You can't even say "Gracias" to the servicepeople, in the event that the Spanish participants think they can communicate using their native language.

So, Englishtown brings 80 or so people together, half & half, and you just talk! It is structured sufficiently well so you don't have the opportunity to connect with one person exclusively, and then not spend time with all the others. So, you spend an hour with one person, and then the next hour with another, etc.

What do I get as a native English speaker? Room and board at their facilities that are equivalent to a 4-star hotel. And the opportunity to meet interesting people.

When I heard about Englishtown, I thought, "That's for me!" So I applied. Meanwhile, knowing that I would prefer to go off-season so I could use one of my sister's Delta Buddy passes, I also offered to be a stand-by participant. For those of you who are anxious to see Delta family & friends get a FC upgrade, I defer to your emotions, and admit to loving the upgrades enough that I will travel when I hope/expect to get the upgrades.

So, knowing that I would use the buddy pass, I also notified Englishtown that I would be available for a last-minute, spur-of-the-moment opening. They (happily) took me at my word, and emailed me this morning (Wednesday) that they had an opening for a session that begins on Friday. Could I participate? Would I, would I? (hairlip, hairlip http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/biggrin.gif)

So, tomorrow I am flying from BOS to ATL (in order to catch the best chance of flights) and then onto Madrid, arriving Friday morning to join a group that will queue up at 3 in the afternoon. With about 6 hours to spare, I will arrive ready & raring to go. (Actually, from previous experience, I really mind travelling easterly, so I'll probably be exhausted, and begging for a bed.)

My plan is to write a journal and post some photos. I'll update this trip report as I go along, including as much flying and traveling detail as I can. Since I will have access to email, please let me know if you want something clarified.

Yes, I'm excited. As I get older I find that I look for unusual opportunities and then figure out how to make them happen, rather than just thinking and wishing about them. What I have found is that most people I know are astounded that I do these things, and cheer me on at the same time. What I expect to find with my flyertalker friends is a total lack of astonishment, but lots of cheering-on.

So, here's to preparation! Believe it or not, I just got all my winter clothes back from the dry cleaner after being in storage all summer. My sister who lives with me is going to stay with another sister. My husband is available to drive me to the airport, I just made $13,000 in 1 1/2 weeks as a Realtor (so I'll be able to afford to stay for a few days in Madrid afterwards at the Intercontinental) and nothing in the pipeline is urgent. The laundry is all done. The sheets were just changed on all the beds. The dog's had her shots (now I am kidding). And I'm on my way.

I'll post again sometime Friday the 24th.

Cheerio.
Rita

Very cool. Hey, I speak a little English, maybe I ought to throw my cape in the bullring....

Looking at the sample itinerary posted on the website (http://www.vausys.com/englishtown), it looks kinda stressful to me. Four hour long one-on-one conversations between bfast & lunch?

I'm still trying to figure out whether this is cool or creepy. Something about that web site screams "AMWAY".

I could be wrong...



------------------
-alan in sitges, home of Si-Do (http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/Forum95/HTML/003150.html)

<font face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" size="2">Originally posted by rkt10:
First, let me tell you that I heard about "Englishtown" somewhere on Flyertalk... and of course, I cannot remember the wonderful individual who posted the link. So I do apologize to my anonymous benefactor, and ask that he/she identify him/herself if you happen to read this.</font>

It was probably either this thread (http://www.flyertalk.com/travel/fttravel_forum/Forum11/HTML/009853.html) or this thread (http://www.flyertalk.com/travel/fttravel_forum/Forum11/HTML/009938.html), rkt10.

I am interested in reading about your adventures in this trip report as they unfold for you.

I hope you have a great time!

Hello all,
I"m sorry I haven't posted. I'll need one more day to catch up. See, I my flights to Madrid were more difficult rather than less, and my luggage was separated from me.

It's already almost 1 am, so I need to check email (for the first time in 4 days) but by tomorrow I should be in good shape to post.

More tomorrow.
Rita

FTer MRKEY participated in this program this summer.

Good luck to you!

Phil Collins’ 70’s song says, “I can feel it coming in the air tonight…”

Well that’s the way it feels when you’re heading out on an adventure. You wake up knowing that the day feels different, smells different, and happens different. And it happens that way for me every single time. Maybe that’s what I like so much about travel. There’s a rush that mimics a runner’s high for me.

Packing went well. I took my handler’s advice and packed nothing but casual clothes for Englishtown. Jeans, jeans, more jeans. A couple of plain black slacks. Okay, and one pair of grey silk shantung dressy pants. Three cashmere sweaters and a couple of shirts. A pair of silk lounging pants (pajamas, actually) and a silk/cashmere sweatshirt. I even had room to pack my pillow which I’ve never done before, and I’m so glad I did this time.

Arrived at Boston’s Logan Airport, which is almost a pleasant thing, since much of the “Big Dig” is finally getting into operation. It’s a straight shot in from where I live, west of Boston, with no real traffic. After being ticketed at Delta check-in, I headed down to the security area, only to be one of those pulled out of line for a thorough search. Actually I was glad, since the line for the regular security was quite long… and there was no one in my line. So, shoes off (no complaints from me) and a thorough search of my laptop, carry-ons, and a close examination of my brand-new, still-in-the-box replacement European power adaptor, and I was through. With an hour and 10 minutes before boarding.

I decided that I would try to get into Delta’s Crown Room since I do have a Platinum AMEX, although my ticket is stand-by, so I’m not really entitled to the spot. Cruised right in. Since this is going to be a long day, and since I haven’t had my morning coffee, I opted for houseblend black coffee which is just wonderful. I’d love a Bloody Mary, but I know I’ll be having those warm nuts on the ATL-MAD flight, and plentiful champagne, so I think I’ll try to keep my head free for the assault to come. Besides, except for the mixed driks they are just offering mixed bar mix.

So, I meander down to the gate at the appointed hour only to find a crowd. This does not look good for getting on the flight. Checked my Delta “sources” and the flight to Atlanta doesn’t look good at all. But when you fly SA, you have to hang in there, in the off chance there is one seat. Well, just as everyone had been cared for, there was one seat left, and another couple. They offered the couple the ticket, asking if they wanted to split up. He says, “Is it too late to book the jump seat?” She says, “Are you a pilot?” He says, “Yes.” So they book him the jump seat and his wife takes the last (MINE!!!!!) seat.

Back to plan B. The next flight to ATL will arrive after the MAD flight leaves, so I have to consider JFK. Well, I mosey on over to the appropriate gate, go through a full-blown security check as above, and the desk agent tells me that I shouldn’t try for BOS-JFK, since the 3:30 flight is full and the next flight could fill up. She recommends I fly to LaGuardia and take the shuttle over to JFK. So, I leave Terminal C and walk over to Terminal B, a long hike for sure. Arrive there and go through another security check (I’m meeting all the TSAs today) and get on the flight to LaGuardia. This 1-hour flight served sodas and light snacks (slice of cheddar cheese, a very small “Delicious” type apple, a bag of cheddar goldfish crackers and a bag of M&Ms.) Different from anything I’ve had before (the M&Ms, that is). But since I’d only had a bit of dry cereal this AM it really feels good to eat.

Arriving in Laguardia is tough too. Now I have to get myself across to JFK. After a bit of decision-making, I’m off on a bus driven by a guy who never ever stopped talking the entire trip. Whatever popped into his head is what came out his mouth. He was blaring at the other drivers, critiquing them, all the while cutting people off from his highest of high moral ground. “Look at that car there. That is illegal. What he’s doing is illegal. If there were a cop around he’d get a ticket, for sure. That happened to me once, I was driving down x street, and a fire engine was going to cross the intersection in about 300 feet, so I went through, and that fire engine, I don’t know who he thought he was, well, he followed me and gave me a ticket. Who did he think he was? Well that car right there, well it very quick on the acceleration. I know. That’s a Crown Vic, that’s the same thing as a Ford xxxx, and I know because I have that particular car, and it’s really fast. Watch him. WATCH HIM! See? Are you all comfortable back there. Is the heat too hot? The cold I have today is because I had a bus yesterday that had no heat at all, and I was going all over the place, here and there, yesterday, and now I have this cold……….”

So, the long line to check into the international flights at JFK terminal 3 seemed merciful when I finally arrived. Got my newly revised “ticket” and had a perfunctory security check (for once) and headed to the gate in Terminal 2. A very very long walk. And I’m hungry now. I get to the gate area, and it’s only 5:45, for a 7:40 flight. So I look around for the Crown Room, and sure enough, it’s nearby. That’s for me. Well this is a much busier place than Boston. And they are serving some modest food: crudite, fruit platter, a cheese platter, some little egg-salad sandwiches, some ham sandwiches, some sort of asparagus wrapped in puff pastry, and some parmesan cheese crackers. So, for the first time today, I ordered myself a nice Absolute Bloody Mary, plugged in my notebook computer to recharge (also my cellphone), got a couple of items to eat, and I’m sitting, secure in the knowledge that I have no idea where I will be in 1 ½ hours.

I have a backup plan if all this blows apart. I know a woman in one of the boroughs who just recently opened a restaurant. I’ll just pop over to her “place” and crash at her apartment.

So, back down to the gate and I’m 6th in line on the wait list. Then I’m 7th! Whaaaa? This is not really looking good. But fortunately for me, the gate agent takes a liking to me, and a significant disliking to some other pass passengers, who were trying to determine whether to change from their Madrid plans, and go to Amsterdam instead. So, the agent gives me the last business class ticket, seat 5A, and I’m in! Oh, I asked her about my bag which needed to be re-checked from Atlanta to Madrid, and she said that she’d checked the record, and it was all set to be sent from Atlanta. And I should be able to pick it up in Madrid.

The usual, champagne or orange juice. I’m with the juice. Then we’re off. This is actually the first time I’ve gotten the window seat on business class, and I love it. No issues with feeling as if you’re going to end up with your head on the shoulder of the stranger beside you.
Smoked Salmon Cheesecake topped with salmon caviar, accompanied by sliced Gravlax with dill, cucumber caper relish and lemon.
Salad: Fresh mixed garden salad with romaine hearts, Belgian endive, Greenleaf lettuce and tomato offered with olive oil and balsamic Vinaigrette or sour cream and herb dressing

Entrees: choice of
Grilled Fillet of Beef accented by three peppercorn sauce served with a roasted red potato casserole, sugar snap peas and roasted parsnips and carrot batons.

Grilled, marinated snapper with tomatillo and cilantro sauce, accompanied by a red and green bell pepper medley, grilled chayote squash and pepita rice

Ziti complemented by creamy pesto sauce, tossed with tomatoes, crookneck squash, Kalamata olives and feta cheese. Grilled chicken may be added to this entrée

Hearty corn chowder with potatoes, carrots, bell peppers and chicken

Friit and Cheese
Fresh and dried fruit with a cheeseboard featuring selections from around the world designed to perfectly complement one another in flavor and texture. Our Vinum dessert wine and port make a perfect accompaniment.

Dessert
All natural vanilla ice cream sundae with your choice of chocolate, caramel and fruit sauces, whipped cream and chopped nuts , garnished with a pirouline cookie.

So I opt for the beef, only to be told later on by the flight attendant that they won’t have enough beef for me. Passriders take what’s available. So I opted for the ziti, which was very good, and filling.

Yes, I had the sundae, with both chocolate and caramel. Yup to the nuts and whipped cream. Might as well go the entire way.

Off to sleep! Got three hours (not too bad) and woke to the sound of breakfast dishes. It’s interesting to open the shade and see pitch black outside, and to know that it’s 7:30 am. But Madrid is on the western side of their time zone, I think, so their day dawns later. In fact, by the time we arrive in Madrid at 8:30, the sun is just rising and reflecting on buildings all over the place. The first impression I have of Spain is “pink” Alpenglow all over the place. What a beautiful start!

You would think!

But, when I go to the Delta counter to see about my bag which is supposed to be on the Delta flight from Atlanta, I find that the bag was not put on the plane.

This is not good, since the bus leaves from Englishtown at 2 pm and I will be in Barco de Avila, some 2 hours away. The agent promises me the bag will be sent to Barco, but he also expresses concern that since “tomorrow” will be the weekend, that I should call and pester Delta the next day, to demand the bags be sent on the weekend, otherwise they might not be scheduled until Monday and might not even arrive till Tuesday.

Ooooo. Now I’ve got a challenge. So, I dropped my hand luggage and computer at the offices of Vaughan Systems, the organizers of Englishtown, and off I went to go shopping for a mini-wardrobe. Now, remember, I’m getting rank by now. And my feet are killing me. But with my 40 year old limited Spanish (that’s how long since I’ve spoken it, not my age!) I manage to outfit myself with 4 tops, pajamas, a pair of slacks, some underwear and a pair of very flat shoes. And off we go to Barco de Avila.

More later.

Rita,

Wow, what an adventure. Glad to see you got to Madrid, and upgraded as well. You deserve it. http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/thumbsup.gif I hope that your bag made it to you so you could start your Spanish Adventure.

Remember, no espanol. http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/smile.gif

<font face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" size="2">Originally posted by RobotDoctor:
Remember, no espanol. http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/smile.gif</font>

Oui! Ne parlez pas français aussi, rkt10!

The coordinator, Brian, an American living in Spain, asks each “Anglo” to share a seat with a Spaniard, so we will begin speaking English right away. My seatmate is a young woman named Monserrat from the southern part of Spain (where the Flamenco dance originated.) She is unusual in this group, since she is paying for her stay herself, rather than having been sent by any company. Her English is limited, and she separates her words by a lot of errrrs and mmmmms. She is very sweet looking, thin, and a bit nervous. We talk a bit about her family, she struggles, and make do. Eventually we arrive on the outskirts of Avila for a “coffee break” at a roadside rest area. There are bathrooms and a small coffee bar. Everyone hops out, and socializes. I take a pit stop, and head out to the bus to lie down. I’m losing my edge. The stop is overlooking the town of Avila, home of St. Theresa of Avila, (who, I am sorry to admit, is someone whose story I’ve forgotten). This is an ancient walled city, with turrets every 30 feet or so. The walls were constructed over 1000 years ago. Inside you see the red tile roofs, and the church at the top of the hill. Beautiful. We continue along to Barco de Avila.

So, Barco de Avila is about ½ hour from the town of Avila and about 2 hours from Madrid, and it is really rural. The village has approximately 2500 inhabitants, and outside of the town are hilly stretches, with mountains off in the distance, and this one medium sized hotel smack dab in the middle of nowhere. The town is named Barco, meaning “boat” since the men who brought the herds of cattle from the mountains to Avila had to cross the river by boat before the bridge was built centuries ago. There is also a man named Juan of Barco who was on one of the ships that Columbus captained to the Americas.

The hotel was once a sheep farm, and it has been full restored to a 4 star hotel, with rustic stone walls, and 12’ high silk draperies in the lobby. The main house is a three-story hip roof stone building, with dual staircases climbing up to (what appears to be) the front door. Actually the front door and lobby is on the lower level. The overall effect is one of a palazzo.

There are many chairs and sofas in the lobby. Probably 6 separate conversation areas. In the back of the room is a door out to a deck overlooking the valley, Barco de Avila and the mountains to the West.

I have been assigned to share a room with Ann Murray, an Irish teacher (20 something) living in Madrid. She’s highly sensitive to my needs, and apologizes for bothering me when she’s no bother at all. I am a bit taken aback by the idea of sharing a room, but to women, it’s not the same big deal as for two unacquainted men to share a room, I think.

Anyway, I’m about to die at this point. But we have a meeting with Richard Vaughan, who is the president of Vaughan Systems, the language company that is offering this intensive English emersion program. He’s a charming 51 year old Texan who has lived in Spain for many years. He welcomes us and reviews the schedule for the week, and presents his two staff who will be our resident coordinators. Brian (mentioned before) will conduct the program, and Alvaro, a Spaniard who will handle logistics.

The schedule for the week is this: Breakfast from 9-10 (good!), lunch from 2-3:30 and dinner from 9-10:30 pm. We will have time to spend with the Spaniards from 10-2 and from 5-8 each night. Then from 8-9 there will be a meeting where there will also be presentations. Presentations include dramatizations of how pickpockets work the tourists, and other similar, funny, and sometimes silly skits. We are promised that one of the nights we will have a Flamenco guitarist for a fiesta.

Finally we go to dinner at 9 pm, which lasts till 10:30, and I’m totally pulverized. I think I was asleep the instant I hit the pillow.

More later.

Fascinating. It all sounded vaguely familiar, until it dawned on me...you are in the remake of the old BBC series, The Prisoner. From the fan club:

He wakes in a room he does not recognize, in a bizarre village he does not recognize, and every week has the following exchange with a disembodied voice:
Prisoner: Where am I?
Voice: In the Village
Prisoner: What do you want?
Voice: Information
Prisoner: Whose side are you on?
Voice: That would be telling... We want Information
Prisoner: You won't get it
Voice: By hook or by crook... We will
Prisoner: Who are you?
Voice: The new Number Two
Prisoner: Who is Number One?
Voice: You are Number Six
Prisoner: I am not a number... I'm a free man!
Voice: [Mocking laughter]


The Village, it transpires, is some sort of retirement home for ex-agents - somewhere to keep people who know too much 'on ice'. Nobody in The Village has a name - everyone is referred to only by their number. It is in an isolated location, and its boundaries are protected by automated sentries called 'Rovers', which look like big white balloons that smother would-be escapees. 'Rover' was one of the more overtly surreal elements of the show.
The Village has its own paper, the Tally Ho (local stories only), labour exchange (local jobs only), hospital, taxi service (local destinations only...) and even elections. It also has its own sinister sounding catchphrase, suggesting the constancy of the surveillance in the place; villagers, when taking their leave, will usually say... 'Be seeing you.'
It is constantly unclear who among the denizens are the prisoners and who the guards - indeed this is one of the central themes of the show.

So, rkt, what is YOUR number???

<font face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" size="2">Originally posted by Jailer:
Fascinating. It all sounded vaguely familiar, until it dawned on me...you are in the remake of the old BBC series, The Prisoner. From the fan club:

He wakes in a room he does not recognize, in a bizarre village he does not recognize, and every week has the following exchange with a disembodied voice:
Prisoner: Where am I?
Voice: In the Village
Prisoner: What do you want?
Voice: Information
Prisoner: Whose side are you on?
Voice: That would be telling... We want Information
Prisoner: You won't get it
Voice: By hook or by crook... We will
Prisoner: Who are you?
Voice: The new Number Two
Prisoner: Who is Number One?
Voice: You are Number Six
Prisoner: I am not a number... I'm a free man!
Voice: [Mocking laughter]


The Village, it transpires, is some sort of retirement home for ex-agents - somewhere to keep people who know too much 'on ice'. Nobody in The Village has a name - everyone is referred to only by their number. It is in an isolated location, and its boundaries are protected by automated sentries called 'Rovers', which look like big white balloons that smother would-be escapees. 'Rover' was one of the more overtly surreal elements of the show.
The Village has its own paper, the Tally Ho (local stories only), labour exchange (local jobs only), hospital, taxi service (local destinations only...) and even elections. It also has its own sinister sounding catchphrase, suggesting the constancy of the surveillance in the place; villagers, when taking their leave, will usually say... 'Be seeing you.'
It is constantly unclear who among the denizens are the prisoners and who the guards - indeed this is one of the central themes of the show.

So, rkt, what is YOUR number???</font>

Jailer,
I seem to remember the show "The Prisoner" as well, although I have no vision of the images.

I guess I'm always "Numero Uno" (at least in my own mind).

This is a nothing-posted night. It's late (again) and I've done a whole lot of talking today.

But more will surely follow.
Rita

Rita,

Your Spanish adventure sounds great, so far. Thanks for sharing with us. Take care and be safe.

Best regards,

RD

Welcome home, rkt10.

I hope you had the time of your life on your Spanish adventure.

Take your time to rest up and relax before you continue your trip report.

Okay, for anyone who's interested, here's the rest of the report, written over a series of days when I didn't have easy internet access.

So who are these people? Well…

The Anglos:

Trudy is a 20 something from New Zealand, she met Aaron, a “Kiwi” (also a participant and her partner) in London.

Candace is in her 50s has returned to Englishtown for a 2nd time. She says now she’s trying to earn a commission. She might get an award for recruiting the most people at the same time. Candace brought 3 people with her. Originally from Watertown, Wisconsin, she is now from Southern Utah.

Ask an Anglo where they are from, they will say the place you live now, or for most of their life. Ask a Spaniard, and they will tell you where they were born.

Karen, in her 50s is from Watertown, Wisconsin, in the southeastern part of the state, near Milwaukee,

Elouise, a native California from Sacramento, now lives in Alexandria, Louisiana.

Lisa was from Watertown, Wisconsin, but left the state with her family when she was age 8. Now she lives in Prescott, Arizona. Prescott is about 100 miles from the Grand Canyon.

Wendy, in her late 50s is from Victoria, British Columbia, Canada. Right on the Pacific Ocean, southwest of Vancouver.

Marion, also from Victoria British Columbia. The climate is like Galicia in Spain. Rains a lot, but never gets cold. This is the 2nd time she’s been to Spain. Been here 5 weeks this year, in Spain only. Wendy and Marion are friends.

Fred, about age 30, is from Indianapolis, Indiana. Fred works as a federal investigator for the US government, investigating employment discrimination.

David Thompson is in his young 20s. He has been backpacking all over Europe for the past 7 weeks. David is from New Jersey.

Linda Fabaro is from Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada.

Dick Corcoran is from Flugerville, Texas, (north of Austin, TX) and nobody understands him there since he was born in Rhode Island, and spent most of his working life in Wisconsin.

Dori, is from Vancouver, British Columbia. Born and raised there.

Doug is from Vermont… not in the mountains, but on the CT River. Born in Andover MA.

Jane says she files a tax return from Millbrook, NY, but she was born in New Orleans, and now lives in NYC and Paris. Jane is also a viola and violin player.

Joan is originally from Cleveland, Ohio. Now she lives outside of Washington DC. Work in Maryland. Works at a literacy council. Wives come, because the husbands can speak English, but they can’t.

Linda Jacobs, is from Springfield, Ohio, grew up in Dallas, TX. But she has no Texas accent.

Nicolette, in her 20s, is from Kent, England. Near Cantebury. Nicolette spent 10 years in London, which is why her accent sounds a bit posh.

Ailish, age 41, is from Dublin, Ireland.

Pamela, almost age 50, is a doctor. Originally from Chicago, she is now from Cincinnati, OH.

Ann, is from Tulamore, Ireland. Ann is also a last-minute participant, like me, and is also an English teacher for Vaughan Systems. Ann lives in Madrid with her Spanish boyfriend.

The Spaniards:
Luis Bertilla is from Valencia, from Mediterranean coast. Work for Mercadona, the largest supermarket chain in Spain. 700+ stores “more or less” Food buyer, rice, pasta & baby food. Buys from Nestle, and others.

Carlos. Works in accounting in a real estate firm. A bean counter. From Valencia

Harvier is a Basque living in Madrid. Working in same company as Carlos, Looking for land to buy.

Jose is from Madrid. Sells in food industry. (to Mercadona.) Produce sauces and vinegar and distribute. Sauces like Ketchup and mayonnaise.

Ricardo Garcia. Operations/Factory. In sales.

Luis Riva. Works as the Spanish National Sales Manager of Passenger Cars for Mercedes Benz. Born in Barcelona, but lives in Madrid.

Guillermo works in internal auditing for Alliance Insurance. Alliance Insurance is #1 in Europe.

Concha, means “shell,” is from Madrid, works for INTA, She’s an optical physicist. Concha is also a Physics teacher in the university.

Harmonia is from northern coast of Spain. Lives in Madrid and also works for INTA, as an optical physicist. (Optical design)

Manuel, also works for Mercadona. In the purchasing department, buying ice cream, eggs, ready-made meals.

Quico, a nickname for the name, “Francesco”, is fromValencia. Quico also works for Mercadona. Buyer for “biscuits” (in US, the word, “biscuits” is more of a cracker; a cookie is sweet.)

Maria, works for a pharmacutical company, logistic Noble Nordis, (a Danish company) for 4 years. Maria’s English is very good.

Francesc is from Barcelona. Came on his own. Colleague of his knew someone who came, and so he decided to come.

Emparo (means “help”) from Madrid, works in Publishing. Sales advertising for magazines (one of them is Elle Magazine).

Mary Jesus also works for the same publishing company as Emparo. She works in financial & HR. From Madrid

Jordi, from Lleda of Cataluna. He found Englishtown on the Internet. He was looking for English courses.

Alicia is from the Canary Islands. Grand Canary Island. Works for Diagio which produces and distributes spirits (like Johnny Walker). Alicia’s English is also very very good.

Mercedes was born in Salamanca, and lives in Madrid.

Ana Rojo, from Seville. Expert flamenco dancer. Anna is going to demonstrate during the week. Ana works for Riccoletto. Production department. Paper, printing plant. Weeklies, monthlies, daily financial newspapers.

Julio Embrona from, well I can’t remember.

Montserrat is from Perez but her name is from Catalonia. Montserrat is her on her own also. She has left her husband and three children to come (ages 6, 3 and 18 months).

Alvaro is from Madrid. Will be working at a private university. Starting on the 3rd of November.


I am now writing this from Madrid, after having completed a most pleasant and difficult week. This is an extraordinarily intense model for learning a language. 18 hours a day. Although breakfast is from 9-10, it feels like it’s 7 am or earlier. Many of the Spaniards are up until 2, 3 or 4 am (or later) and a few of the younger Anglos stay up as late. But I don’t.

The one-on-ones are very enjoyable. For me it is interesting to talk with the Spaniards about their jobs… finding out about their company’s challenges and more. It’s fun to talk publishing to Maria Jesus, Emparo and Ana. Poor Maria Jesus is returning to a month-end financial reporting period which will have her working more 18 hour days. Emparo is a salesperson for the magazines, and she competes with broadcast (“everyone watches TV in Spain”) and newspapers. With my newspaper background, we discuss tactics for competing (the very targeted audience of her company’s specialty magazines… the fact that magazines stay in the household for a longer period of time… even months… and more). Emparo is very sexy, and you can see how this macho culture would help her sell.
Ana is the only woman in the production department of a publisher. She is responsible for the purchasing of paper, overseeing the photoengraving department (the department that makes the plates for the printing press… and something I’m familiar with from my past career). Ana is about 4 ½ months pregnant, and extremely beautiful in an Anglo sort of way… light brown hair and hazel eyes. Her English is superb, and it becomes apparent as the week goes on that she comes from the patrician class.

The week is plagued by rain. I mean RAIN. So rainy that the card key lock to my room becomes wet enough not to work. I have to have a member of the front desk walk to my room each time I want to enter, as the master key (thankfully) works. Anyway, the rain has its effect. Typically the participants would spend their hour walking around the property. In the warm weather there is a swimming pool. There are hiking trails down to the river. And the town of Barco de Avila is only 2 km away. But much of this is impossible because of the rain. That means that people spend their time in the large hotel library. Thank God it’s large. And comfortably furnished with cut-velvet sofas, barrel chairs, coffee tables and more.

The organizers have placed large maps on boards and propped them up on the walls, so groups of people stand around the maps and point out where they are from. Because Spain has such distinct regions, a savvy visitor can learn things about the Spaniards just by knowing where the individual comes from.

So we deal with the rain, but the time indoors takes its toll, and we are just learning a bit about each other. By Monday it is pleasant out in the morning, and everyone goes for walks. The countryside is lovely. Hills and mountains everywhere, but the road is only a gentle incline. On one side of the road is a very rounded hill where cattle feed. The farmer stands beside the edge of the road, and a dog sits at attention in the field. As a result of the cattle feeding, the grass is cut low, and you can see the stone walls marking the fields. Off in the distance, the hills are a bit more peaked, and finally there are mountains that are capped with light snow. Looking in the other direction, the fields eventually end at an unseen river. Because of the rain, however, you can hear the river. There are a couple of villages in the valleys, and then to the southwest another line of mountains, ranging from soft hills to green-covered mountains. And one very ragged and raw mountain that looks as if it were part of a glacial era. I believe there are ski mountains within 20 miles.

By afternoon it begins to sock in again. Everyone heads back to the hotel lobby. For the remainder of the week the rain taunts us and haunts us. At night it can be even worse. Winds seem to get going miles away, and stop directly at our door.

Lunch is at 2 pm each day, and the service is a bit slow. If you want to eat quickly, you need to sit closest to the front of the room near the kitchen. For the 45 of us there are 2 servers. Tables are set up for either 4 or 6 people, and we have been asked to sit equal numbers of Anglos and Spaniards. That’s not difficult. There are bottles of water and red wine on each table. The tables are linen covered (very nice quality, I must say) and the glassware is quite nice as well. The food is mostly very good, consisting of some sort of first course, a salad bar, and a main (meat or fish) course (sometimes with potatoes) and a dessert. Coffee is upstairs afterwards. A typical meal might be a consommé of cauliflower, chicken with a very light sauce. Another day it’s pork, and other days it’s monkfish.

Siesta is from 3:30 till 5, when the one-on-ones begin again. Each night at 8 we meet in a separate building that was once a cantina (bar), and I’ll talk about that later.

Siesta is definitely needed. And if you want a slightly longer one, don’t eat dessert. Sometimes if you want to work the system, you can get yourself a full 2 hour nap. For me, that is a delicious pleasure.

Then the group gets back together for more one-on-ones from 5-8. After the siesta you really do need the kick of a coffee, and there is a bar in the lobby that does a brisk business. At about 1.20 euros, the price is affordable. Somewhere around 6 pm the coffee kicks in, and the evening begins to get fun.

Each night at 8 we meet in the “meeting room” where we catch up on necessary info, and then we begin to share with one another. Aaron, from New Zealand, performs an ancient chant that was once used by the native man-eating tribes, and which has been adapted by the New Zealand soccer leagues as a way of injecting fear into their opponents. During the week others perform, but it’s not obligatory. And, although the idea of group performances sounds a bit juvenile, it actually works well; and as we get to know one another it brings us together.

Then we head back to the dining room for dinner.

Another (very special night) we are treated by a performance of a Spanish flamenco guitarist/singer after dinner. But on that night we are first served paella, prepared for the 45 of us in a pan that is 2 feet in diameter. It is spectacularly beautiful. Topped by a “frosting” of shrimp, arranged in concentric circles. Normally the guitarist prepares the paella, but the hotel says he must do so outside, and with the rain, he cannot. So the chef prepares the paella in the kitchen (which is off-limits to the visiting guitarist).

Afterwards we return to the meeting room for the musical performance. He starts out with the very formal (and difficult) traditional guitar songs, and then he plays the 5 flamenco dances… and Ana and Montse dance together. The flamenco is a very sexy dance. But it is at the same time very sweet and pure. These two women, one very pregnant, have the group transfixed.

Then the two dancers pull Spanish men to dance with them. Because we are all still strangers, you can see them holding themselves back a bit, but you can also see how electric this dance could be between people who really were interested in each other. Wow. Later on a group of 5 men ask the 5 women in the front row to dance with them. They are very generous choosing these 5 because they are mostly middle-aged women, some pudgy, who might normally be passed over. They certainly could have chosen the more attractive women in their 20s and 30s who were much thinner, sexier and appealing to them. But they don’t and everyone starts dancing. That night people don’t get to bed until after 4:30 and the guitarist plays until the last dancer is ready to quit.

Oh, there is another special night when those who are from the northern part of Spain perform a ritual welcome ceremony with a type of grain alcohol mixed with lemon rinds, sugar and peppercorns. The mixture is then lit on fire and the alcohol is reportedly burned off. The thing burns for about 10 minutes, during which an incantation is spoken over the brew. At “our” ceremony the original Basque was translated into Spanish, then Catalan and eventually English. The poem went like this:
“Baby eagles, owls, toads and witches
Demons, goblins and devils, spirits of the cloudy valleys.
Crows, salamanders and witches, quack spells
Hollow and putrid chestnuts, caves of worms and reptiles

“Fire of the spirits of the dead, the evil eyes, black magic, odors of the dead,
Thunder and lighting.
Barking of the dogs, proclamation of the death, snout of the satyr and rabbit’s foot.

“Sharp tongue of the bad women married to old men,
Horns of Satan and Beelzebub, fire of burning bodies,
Mutilated bodies of the wretched , farts from infernal asses,
Howls from the stormy sea.

“Useless wombs of unmarried women, the sound of cats in heat, piles of dirty hair from deformed goats.
With this ladle I will raise the flames of this fire which seem like those of hell and the
Witches will take the sky on their brooms.

“Hear those blasphemous witches who, upon drinking the grain alcohol for self-purification, cannot help but bear the burning in their innerds
And when this brew goes down our throats, we will be free from the evil in our souls,
And from all witchcraft.

“Forces of the air, land, sea and fire: if it is true that you have more powr than that of
Human beings, and you are here now, bring the spirits of absent friends here with us to join in this “Queimada”

Before we know it the week is over, and we return to Madrid.

I have a philosophy about this type of travel. I set myself a budget of about 1000-1200 euros for hotel for me, and figure out a way to stay within that general budget. Since I am in Madrid for 4 nights where I have to pay for my room, I look at the 5 star hotels. My first thought is the Intercontinental, since I have stayed in their Rome property, and was very pleased. But then as I am making my hotel reservations, I realize that I have made the reservation for only 1 night. I am unsuccessful getting the other nights at the same rate (275 euros a night) and instead they want to charge me about 375 euros. Well, that’s out of my budget, so I start looking around. Ultimately I find the Hotel Adler, which is where I am currently ensconced.

When I arrived in Spain I had the two reservations, and parenthetically I also had a bookmark to a website in Spain that includes street photographs. You type in a street address and it shows you the surrounding area with photographs. Well, as I checked the Intercontinental, the area looks too bland. It’s out of the central area, surrounded by office buildings. The Adler is in a very fashionable area of the city, near the national library. And at 220 euros a night it is perfect.

Utterly. When I arrive at the Adler I am shown to a room in the front of the building, overlooking the busy street. But with 10 foot high soundproofed double doors to the small balcony, I am relatively free of the noise, and have a great vantage point for the local activity. The room itself has 2 twin beds with one headboard. The linens are the best I’ve ever felt. In fact, I’m taking the name of the manufacturer in the hopes that they will be available in the US.

The walls are “papered” with striped fabric above a chair rail, and a lower rice paper wallcovering. The bathroom is spectacular. I don’t know why. I’ve been in marbled bathrooms before. But this one is laid out so beautifully, and with a vase full of fresh flowers, it seems delightful. Wait! I just figured it out. There’s a chair rail and below that the wall is “wainscoted” with marble. It’s absolutely beautiful.
There is a loveseat, and marble top table in the room. Also a desk with a leather waste basket and leather stationary holder. The key to my room is on a long tasseled cord. The bellman tells me about the safe and returns a few moments later with a key for the box (no computerized safe.) offered on a silver tray. Oh, the closet cabinet is mirrored and has mullions to look like a window.

I would highly recommend this hotel.

Today (Saturday) is November 1, All Saint’s Day. Just about everything is closed. Except for the pharmacies. But this is a perfect day to watch Spaniards, and since this is a fashionable area, the people are beautifully dressed. I decided I wanted to get an Ethernet cord for my computer, and I take a taxi to the largest of the “El Corte Inglais” stores (where I shopped last week for my interim wardrobe), and when we arrive, all of a sudden I realize that it’s closed. So, thankfully since I hadn’t exited the taxi, I have him return to my area. Then I start walking about.

Curiously I eventually encounter a different “Corte Inglais” and amazingly it is open. But only partially. Their computer department is closed. And so is their camera department. But their cafeteria is open, so I wander down and pick up some “stuff”: cheddar cheese, some Carr’s crackers, a bottle of Coke Light, a particular bottle of Cava (Spanish Champagne) that was recommended to me by Luis A from Englishtown, some fresh raspberries, and some almonds and return to my room at about 3:30 and enjoy a bit of spontaneous lunch. Oh, I don’t open the Cava, since I think I’ll take it home with me.

I then take a great shower, wrap my wet hair up in a towel, and do a bit of writing on my computer. No internet connection, and I KNOW my junk mailbox is filling up. Well, after awhile, it’s time for my new favorite habit: la siesta!

By the time I wake it’s already 7 (see in Englishtown they ring your room at 4:45, so you don’t oversleep. But here…. Well, I’m on my own.) Some people say that if you sleep a long time you must have needed it. I know that’s not true. But I do enjoy sleeping.

Now it’s Saturday night in Madrid, and I’m sure I don’t want to be wandering all over the place alone. So I decide to have dinner in the hotel dining room. I’ve peeked in earlier and it is small (about maybe 12 tables. Mostly large enough for 6-8 people and a few single tables. I arrive at the restaurant at 9:40 pm and I’m the only one in the room. But so what. Someone’s got to be first.

I’ve dressed for the night in a pair of steel grey silk pants, and a winter-white cashmere sweater, and a pink pashmina scarf/shawl. So I don’t feel out of place with my book as company. The captain offers me a menu in either English or Spanish. I take both, but need the English version to decide, and the Spanish one to order with (with my very limited Spanish).

They ask if I’d like an aperitif, and I eventually request white wine, but they bring a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. So I say, no, and ask for some Cava (Spanish Champagne). It’s lovely.

I choose an appetizer of warm mushroom salad with prawns. And dinner is some sort of veal dish (although it turns out to be more of a pot roast of veal). They ask me if I want to order their special apple pie, which takes 20 minutes to prepare, and I say, “Yes.” (what the heck!). The warm salad is very nice. Although some of the mushroom varieties are rather ugly, and (forgive me) look like slugs. The shrimp are delicious. There is some sort of orange-colored sauce intermixed with some green type of vinaigrette. Not sure what they taste like, because the salad itself dominates. But it is pretty, and not obtrusive.

The veal, as I said is slow cooked. Three medallions 1 inch high, maybe 2 ¼ inches in diameter, and fork-tender. They have been cooked with onions, carrots and slices of green olives. Very rich, but not overwhelming. However, after eating two of them, I am no longer hungry, and so I pass on the third one. Somewhere in the mix I order another glass of cava, and a bottle of water. Dinner is delightful.

Dessert arrives. Nothing like American apple pie. This is a round thin piece of pastry, maybe 1/8” high, with wafer thin slices of apples and some sort of thickened syrupy juice. The dish is garnished with raspberries, a pudgy blackberry, and a couple of (what I think are) persimmons. They offer me some heavy cream, which is slightly warmed. Darned good thing I didn’t plow through that last veal medallion. I’d never have been able to enjoy this dessert, which was perfection.

Oh, by this time, the restaurant has 3 other parties. One couple, another table of 6 and a table of perhaps 10. All Spaniards.

After dinner I enjoy a cappuccino. They bring me some sort of praline cookie and a couple of nutty chocolates. Yup. I eat them too.

Waddling out of the restaurant, I’m vowing to walk miles tomorrow to wear this stuff off. The food is too good to pass. The calories come along for the ride.

Incidentally, the meal cost me 56 euros. I say that’s just fine in a first-class restaurant, with perfect service. Wouldn’t you agree?


One of the thinks I love to do is watch people. And after having spoken non-stop for a week, now I’m perfectly content to do exactly that for the rest of my stay in Madrid. I do a fair amount of walking, enjoying checking out the fashionable clothing of the women, and the, sort of courtly dignity of the older men. The children are dressed up on Sunday afternoon. You can tell whose kids go to the best schools. Blazers, sweaters, short pants on the boys.

I did not go to a single museum.

So before you know it, it’s time to return. I’ll leave out the details, since my pass manages to get me a coach seat and the food is (as most of you know) totally unremarkable. One thing, ‘tho. The flight attendants in coach were surprisingly unfriendly. Not just to me. I observed their irritation at other passengers as well. So chalk up the return flight to experience, and I’m glad it’s over.

Today I returned to work, and (I must say) all in all, I’m a person meant to travel, not to work. But as far as trips go, this was more than just fine. I'll work again until I can travel again.

Rita

Rita,

Your experience sounds almost like summer camp (in the rain...)! Interestingly, my mother works at INTA, although she is a chemist.

Apologies for not getting in touch with you re: Saturday night. Sounds like you stayed out of trouble anyhow.

<font face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" size="2">Originally posted by cedric:
Rita,

Your experience sounds almost like summer camp (in the rain...)! Interestingly, my mother works at INTA, although she is a chemist.

Apologies for not getting in touch with you re: Saturday night. Sounds like you stayed out of trouble anyhow.</font>

Cedric,
Hmmm, I'll have to think about the camp reference. Unless you mean a big, sexy, totally honest, intelligent camp with no arts & crafts. With a jacuzzi bath! Maybe.
Rita

Rita, it's two years later and I just now read your trip report because it was linked on another thread. How interesting, and thanks for going into so much detail. I really enjoyed it and hope to have a similar experience in Spain next year.

Rita, it's two years later and I just now read your trip report because it was linked on another thread. How interesting, and thanks for going into so much detail. I really enjoyed it and hope to have a similar experience in Spain next year.

Elli,
Go for it. And be sure to post a trip report.
Incidentally, Vaughan Village just started running programs in Italy. They've only done 2 so far and are still working out the kinks. But soon Italy will be a destination option.
Rita

Elli,
Go for it. And be sure to post a trip report.
Incidentally, Vaughan Village just started running programs in Italy. They've only done 2 so far and are still working out the kinks. But soon Italy will be a destination option.
Rita
Thanks, Rita, I did see on their website that Italy will be an option as well. BTW, without going through the whole thread again, did you go in the late fall? Was it unusual to have such bad, rainy weather for the whole week?

Thanks, Rita, I did see on their website that Italy will be an option as well. BTW, without going through the whole thread again, did you go in the late fall? Was it unusual to have such bad, rainy weather for the whole week?

Yea, it was the end of October. I don't think it was unexpected weather. Just the change of season and it was cold enough to be raw.
Rita