Monday, 26 August 2013

Procrastination

You know what? Instead of packing, organising my life and sorting myself out, I'm going to have a bath, rename my blog and watch about 5 episodes of 90210. Rock and roll lifestyle.

4 days

From 23 days, to 3 days and 4 hours 'till France. Someone remind me why I'm doing this? My love of children? NOPE. My lifelong desire to live in France? NOPE. To practice my French skills? NOPE NOPE NOPE.

I currently have a suitcase full of bags of vacuum packed stuff, next to a massive pile of unpacked stuff. I'm going to have to take two suitcases. Crazy bag lady? I'm stressing. I have loads to do before I go and the biggest problem... I don't know if I even want to go. It's a ten months. Nearly a whole year. Do I want to be away for that long? Sure, I'll come home in between, but only for like a few days at a time. I was out in the countryside today thinking how much I love England. So why am I going?

I have a bit of a fear. I know it's a bit stupid, but in my head it's not. When I was in Romania there was an event. Not a good one. We were staying in an apartment and to cut a long story short, one day we angered a neighbour who went CRAZY. I mean like literally knocking the door down crazy. It ended in a fight with chains, a baseball bat and lots of blood (thankfully not any of mine!). Luckily, I was with 5 other girls and we contacted a Romanian friend to call the police for us, but what if it happens again. This time I'll be on my own. I love the idea of having my own place, but I know I'll be on edge for a while.

And my next issue. Once I leave, I don't really have anywhere to come back to. Basically, my brother moved out earlier this year, saying he never planned to live at home again. My mum moved house, somewhere with no spare room for little bro to come back to. Little bro's circumstances changed and he moved home and since I got home from Spain, the living room has been his bedroom. When I leave, he gets my room. All fine, till I want to come home. And then I don't have anywhere to come "home" to. My mum said I'll always have a place here, but I don't count camping out in the living room a place. Sorry if that sounds ungreatful, but really, would you want to sleep in a room that's not really a bedroom, knowing you're stopping everyone else from being able to lounge on the sofa and watch TV etc?

I still need to buy gifts for the family, a birthday present for my niece who turns 5 just after I leave, finish packing, "pack" my room so my little brother can move into it, see my friends and mentally prepare myself. Last night I couldn't sleep. My heart was beating too fast and I was over thinking this whole situation way too much. Is that a sign that it's a mistake? It's too late to back out now. 4 more sleeps.

Grumpy grumps.

Kisses

Wednesday, 7 August 2013

All Change

So it's been over a month since I last wrote.

A summary of those weeks: The children cried when I left Spain (does that mean they actually liked me?), I nearly missed my flight, I came home to a new house and new people, I got involved with something (or should I say someone) I shouldn't have, I had a few very drunken, very shameful nights out, one of which included a 3am phonecall to my little brother to come out and pay the taxi while I lay on the drive and my friend.. was being sick in the bin, I drank far too much of the Spanish spirits I brought home which resulted in the shameful nights, befriended a homeless man, got a kidney infection againnnn, got a job, turned it down and the main thing...

I've accepted a job in Paris. Working as an au pair. After saying I'd never do it again.

WHAT AM I DOING?

Good news is that this time I get my own apartment. Bad news is that I'll have 3 children to look after.

I can't speak any French. Literally, bonjour is as far as it goes.

So I'm off to France. My Eurostar is booked for the 30th August, so 23 days. It was such an impulsive decision. One minute I was thinking about getting a "proper" job and moving out of home and the next I was booking a train to France.

Fingers crossed it works out a bit better this time.

Do I start a new blog? Rename this one? What?

Kisses

Wednesday, 26 June 2013

I'm so hungry!

For some reason there's been no bread for the past few days. And now it's hotter, the fruit is all warm and mushy. So I've had to have a mushy pear for breakfast every day and now I'm starving! It's 2.15pm and they're still happily swimming round the pool. FEED ME.

I can't even go out and buy food because they've just announced that as well as looking after the children alllll morning I also have to do English with the older girl all afternoon. I want to go and buy nice food, fro-yo, pick'n'mix and take some photos. But no. Grumpy children it is.

I don't know if I'll have time to do anything. As well as the above, I want to buy some alcohol, print off my boarding pass and have another beach trip but by the sounds of it I'm working pretty much all of the last 2 and a half days I'm here.

Get me home.

Kisses

Saturday, 22 June 2013

Police, hospitals, visits and home

*I started writing this days ago, but haven't got round to finishing it, doing to do a whole week in one post...

So last time I wrote, I was thinking about baked beans and pesto. Neither of these things made it to my mouth :( although I did buy some pasta sauce which satisfied my need for flavour and set me up nicely for Friday nights adventures.

I met up with a Polish au pair by the church in the town and then we headed to this nice beach front bar where we met the others. It was a massive mix of people, young and old from all over, America, Canada, Germany, Morocco, Poland, Wales, Scotland and England. There was a guy there from 20 minutes from where I live in England. Small world. Me and G (the Polish girl) had a jug of sangria, love the stuff. After everyone had had a few drinks we went to the main gay pride area where Kitty from X factor was performing. As you probably guessed, she wasn't so good. The atmosphere was so good though!

We went on to "Sin Street" and went to this weird old bar which I didn't rate much but we had a couple of drinks. This crazy 50 year old Canadian woman we were with was literally pouncing on any man she could find. Pretty gross really. After this point, things get a little hazy. I have to remember that Spanish measures are way bigger than what we have in England! We all were chatting, dancing, having a good time. We went on to this tiny club and I made friends with a drag queen. G wanted to go somewhere else, I thought she could do with going home so we left the others and headed back down the main street. We stopped and had broken conversations with people in the street, bought more drinks and danced in a bar. At one point I was getting swung round the dance floor by this creepy little man. Lovely. As we left the bar, G was suddenly REALLY drunk and I was practically carrying her down the street. These two guys offered to help and I drunkenly thought it was a good idea and we stumbled down to the beach. I REALLY needed the loo so wandered off with one of the guys speaking really bad Spanish, went to the nearest bar and practically ran back to G. When I got back this man beckoned me over and asked if I was okay. I was like... erm... I guess so. Thinking who is this man? Turns out he was an undercover police man. He told me the men we were with were "morrocs" (does this mean they're from Morocco? I don't know) and he told them to leave and helped me move G. I went to get her some water and the police man said I had to call her host family because we didn't know her address. I told him I couldn't as it was her first week and I thought she might get sent home if she'd got into that state. Long story short, I ended up calling her brother in Poland at 4.30am (5.30am Polish time?) and he had to contact their dad and text me the address. By this point G was pretty much passed out and the police man called an ambulance and we ended up miles out of town at the nearest hospital. I just hung around while they did whatever they do with drunk people and finally at around 6am we were allowed to get a taxi home. I managed pretty good Spanish. I think I did anyway, but maybe my drunken Spanish isn't as good as I think it is. By the time we'd dropped G at hers and I'd stumbled back to mine it was about 7am. Luckily "my" family were away so no explaining had to be done. G sent me a message the next day saying I was her "angel" haha. Always the good samaritan.

The next day I dragged myself out of bed and went to the beach with J, the English au pair I met. We chilled on the beach and then went to watch the gay pride parade which was so much fun! Such a good atmosphere. It was so hot though and I was hungover so after about half an hour we headed off for some food then back to the beach. It was actually a really good day despite the lingering hangover. I got home around 8.30 and just chilled in the house. It was soo good to have a break from the family for a bit. On the Sunday I just had a lie in, went to the supermarket and met up with M, an American au pair for a couple of beers. I'd left the family a note saying what time I'd be home, but when I got back they were like... oh.. we didn't cook for you because we didn't know when you'd get back and seemed a bit pissed off. I left a note though and it's not like they'd told me when they'd be home. I felt bad anyway, so told them I'd already eaten and went to bed hungry.

This weeks been a mix of good and bad. The children are literally driving me INSANE. They're so nice sometimes, then so whiny, loud, annoying, rude etc etc other times. The older girl keeps saying she won't eat because "I no like" even though the day before she told me it was her fave food... And there were tears about having to spend the afternoon with me to do English. Way to make me feel wanted. They keep not telling me whats going on too and I can't cope with it. On Monday morning I told the mum I have to go home early because I have to do something for uni. I feel bad for not telling the truth, but I'd basically be insulting them if I did. So I go home a week today. In fact this time next week I'll be at home. Hopefully about to eat some tasty food and sleep in my double bed. I'm so so sad to be leaving the town. I've met some really cool people and I absolutely love the place. But the work isn't fun and living with someone else's family is too hard. I need my independence back.

Aside from the work/leaving early issues. I had a nice week. My uncle came over from England on Tuesday so I've been out for tea every night and shown him the town and things. He loves it here too and is already talking about getting an apartment/living here. We had some amaaazing food at this place called the Beach House. I had a seafood hot pot and it was SO good. Yum. Beats soggy green beans. Lots of frozen yoghurt too. Love it. On Thursday after a meal with my uncle I went to meet some of the people I met on Friday. We chilled in an outdoor bar for a bit and had some drinks, then went to this little jazz night. Jazz is not my thing at all but the company was good. There was only four of us. A guy I think in his 40's who's a little weird/inappropriate but not bad, a guy in his 30's who's an English teacher here and M, the American au pair. I got pretty drunk. The guys were buying all our drinks and we ended up in this little bar/club we went to on Friday. We were the only ones in there and we were talking to the reallyyy camp owner. He was a lot of fun. It was a good night and so nice to do something different.

My uncle left this morning, we went for a drink and then I took him to the train station. Came home for a nap and headed to the beach for a couple of hours. I came home expecting the family to be back from buying a new apartment (they have SO many houses!) but they weren't. Had a shower. Still no sign. Went to the shop. Still nothing. I was STARVING and didn't know if they were coming back for food so ended up making some pasta. I know they don't need to tell me their plans but I tell them roughly when I'll be home etc, surely they should tell me too?

Never mind. 6 days to go. I'm so excited to get back to my home comforts and freedom, but so sad to be leaving Spain. I'm going to crack on with my TEFL course and hopefully be back in a few months. Unless I change my mind which is a common occurrence.

Now it's written down my week sounds a bit uninteresting, but I've had a lot of fun and met a lot of people. If I could have my life here minus the work and living arrangements, I'd love it! I don't mind working, but au pairing is just not for me.

Kisses

Friday, 14 June 2013

Ups, downs and english food

This time yesterday I was writing a post about being sure I wanted to go home. Right now, I'm excited about going out for drinks tonight and a weekend of being pretty much home alone as the family are going away.

I spent my morning drinking Koppaberg on the beach with another au pair I met and this afternoon in the pool with the older girl. I'm planning on going to the newly discovered English shop to buy beans and pesto (FINALLY something with flavor!) and probably everything else in the shop. Chocolate, crisps, coke... So much for healthy eating... Would it be sad to buy a couple of Estrella cans to drink before I go out? I know I'm alone but yummy dinner on the terrace with a cold beer sounds too good.

So today things are good. Apart from the sun burnt shoulders and forehead.. But I'll forget about that. I'll forget even more when I've filled up on some much needed alcohol.

It's Gay Pride here this weekend too and there's loads going on. There's a massive stage set up on the sea front and tomorrow there's a parade in the afternoon. Excited!

Five weeks tomorrow until home time. On Sunday I can say 4 weeks on 6 days. I can cope with that. I think.

I need to think about what I'll do when I get home. Am I going to do a TEFL course and go away? Or just get a job and hang around in England? I have no idea. How am I supposed to figure it out?

Writing about food has made me hungry. I might have to go to the shop over the road first, I might be able to get Spanish versions of beans and pesto there instead of paying extra for English brands. Is 5pm too early to have my tea? In England, not so much. In Spain, definitely yes. I have a horrible crazing for a kebab with loads of garlic mayo. YUM. Just the little issue of being a vegetarian. Do Spanish people go for post night out takeaways? I could so eat a pizza...

Kisses

Tuesday, 11 June 2013

Barcelona

I went into Barcelona yesterday. It's such an easy journey, I'll definitely be going again soon. We only went to take the older girl to the orthodontist (she's only 8, isn't that really early to be getting a brace?) so I didn't get much chance to explore this time.

Yesterday I was like... Time is going fast, I can definitely cope with another 5 and a half weeks here. This morning, not so much. I was on Facebook and saw that one of my best friends is home from uni and I want to be there too! Instead I'm here, on my own, bored... I guess I have the sun though. 38 days to go.

I'm sad that I'm counting down the days. I knew this would happen. I plan things and get all excited, but still find myself ending up counting down until the end. I keep thinking about how excited I'm going to feel when I get on the plane home. Eeee can't wait. 5 weeks 4 days. By Saturday it will be 4 weeks and 6 days. I just need to remember that time will pass. I can do it, right?

This weekend I want to stay in the town, I'm supposed to be going for drinks on Friday (FINALLY A SOCIAL EVENT!) and an au pair from the next village has asked if I want to meet up on Saturday. But the family want to go to their house in the country. How can I get out of it? It's also Gay Pride Festival and I want to see the parades etc!

Oh life. It's such a strange thing. I wonder if I will ever be content with the speed it's going and what I am doing with it.

Kisses