A cake with a Czech

Weekend! After some very hard workdays, during which we attended lessons from 9 am to 4 pm, there it came the golden, sweet weekend with all its promises of rest, relief and enjoyment. For us, here at Anglolang School and Scarborough, it was too an opportunity to get to know better each other, practise our English skills in a less formal social environment, and look for opportunities to acquire contacts in prospect of future european projects.

Anglolang offered some weekend activities. On Friday there was a Beach Sport Evening (I think I told you about it). On Saturday they offered us a School Trip to Edinburgh. And on Sunday another one to Newcastle and Durham. None of those activities were, of course, compulsory, and there were not free, but the Friday Beach Sports Evening. I signed up for the Edinburgh trip, and planned for a bike ride on Sunday. But things were not as I wanted them to. On Thursday they suspended the trip to Edinburgh, so I had to change my plans. I finnally signed up for Newcastle, and made my bike ride on Saturday.

So, after having a lot of fun with some classmates on Friday at the beach, we hired some bikes on Saturday morning. It was supposed to be a ride for four teachers, but some of them decided not to come in the end, so we finnally were only two, a Czech P.E. teacher and your humble servant. We went to the ´Cinder Trail´, a former railway line that went all the way from Scarborough to Whitby, though we didn't intend to go that far. Our aim was the Ravenscall Hall Hotel, about 16 km away from Scarborough. We had a great and fine British weather, which, for you, means that it was cold and raining all the way. 

We had fun. We sighted squirrels, and rabbits, and deers, and cakes  -twice-, and soups -only once. But, instead of telling you the tale of the Spanish and the Czech riding a bike, I'll just show you some pictures. Reading is boring, I know.

We sighted cows, too! I forgot the cows!

This, my friends, is a Yorkshire Curl Tart, a delicious piece of cake sighted twice at the Ravenscar Tearoom. One on the way out. The second one on the way back. There is a law on cake hunting, more or less like the fox hunting one. It says you can not hunt cakes, but if you happen to come into one in your way, you can hunt and eat it. And we are law-abiding people...

Our lunch here, a hot Brócoli Blue Cheese Soup, perfect for the cold weather of the British summer

The sight from the dinning room at the Ravens Hall Hotel was great. Here you can see the 'Robin Hood's Bay'. No, Robin Hood never was there, he was more fond of forests.

The Cathedral of Durham, our Sunday trip main aim.

Old Good Schooldays...

Here we go! As I write this lines, I´m in my third day here in U.K. Three very plenty and busy days, including first meetings, first classes, first school trips and first meals.

Anglolang school is just great. You can have a look at it here. I´ve got the best teachers I could ask for. Dan, i.e., it´s not only a great expert in education apps, but an outstanding teacher. And it's not the only one. Linda and Elaine, both of them in charge of Language Development, are incredible teachers as well. Alexis is in charge of CLIL lessons in the afternoon, and I can say no less of him. I've got a lot to learn from them, not only about English language, CLIL or apps, but about how they plan and perform at their classes. 

Anglolang School front yard.

Classes start at 9:00 a.m. During the morning we plough through Language Development. First break starts at 10:40 a.m., just time enough for a tea or a coffe before the following session starts at 11:00. The second morning class being longer, as it extends up to 12:50, it includes a little ten minutes break. After that, it's lunchtime. At 13:50 starts the afternoon class, the thematic one, being mine the CLIL class. CLIL stands for Content and Language Integrated Learning, which is why I'm here. It's the longer class of them all, up to 16:00. After that, we're done till the next day.

Anglolang also offers us a lot of activities, both during schooldays and weekends, and also in the evenings. Here, evening is the after-dinner time, being dinner at some point between 5:30 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. On Wednesdays, there are school trips. Today it was to Leeds and Bradford, and the next week trip will be to York, which I'm looking forward to. Some other day I may talk to you a little bit about our school trips. For the weekend, there's a trip to Edimbourg on Saturday, and I'm planning a bike ride on my own along the Cinder Trail on Sunday. In regarding to evenings activities, it depends. You already know on Monday I went to the Folk Night at The Merchant (read it here). It was not a school-organized activity, of course, but they publicized it. Tomorrow there is another Jazz Night at The Cask, which is very near my hotel. On Friday the school sets up a "Beach Sports Evening". You got the idea, haven't you?

But the scoop arose today. I've been moved from the "beginners" Language Development Class to the "advanced" one. Cheers! 

Scarborough Fair

While I write this lines down, I'm celebrating my first 24 hours in Scarborough. And in order to properly and... Britishly doing so, I decided to attend the 'Folk Night' at The Merchant, a very nice pub placed at Eastborough Street. Right now, I'm enjoying a Ginger Ale seated in a comfortable couch staring at a wide window as the rain softly soak the street an any bypasser bold enough as to have a walk so late at night. It's 8:30 p.m. This is Britain for you, friends.

So, as I was saying, 24 hours. Lot of things happened in those 24 hours, and I can not expect you to be in the mood of reading them all. So, I propose you a quick and easy 'van Gogh's style' post, a fast serie of paintbrushes so you can get an impression of how it was while not having to read a lot. Shoulders to the task.

First things first. British do drink a lot of beer. No, seriously. Way too much. Ok, maybe not them all. Only the ones that happened to travel in my coach in the 15:11 Manchester - Scarborough train. There were a large bunch of people seated and working, or reading, with scores of empty cans of beer at one side of the table, and scores of full ones at the other, calmly and phlegmatically and sistematically passing them from one side to another. I mean, from the 'full' side to the 'empty' side. The other way round would have been weird. British tend to manage beer consumption just like a worker manage car production in an assembly line. What do you think came first? Consumption? Production? 

Now, today's breakfast. My accommodation is set at the Raincliffe Hotel, a wonderful Victorian-style house run by a very nice couple. He is a marvelous cooker, and presented all newcomers with a piece of cake in the morning. Wish you had tasted it. Anyway, this morning I decided for a Full English Breakfast, a fry-up, and I got what I asked for. Well, I got twice what I asked for. Have a look. Of course, I had to surrender. Trafalgar, again.

After classes, me and some of my classmates decided for a walk and a traditional Fish & Ship dinner. I wasn't really sure I could take any more food for the whole day, but boldly I thought that, maybe, a long walk would help me open my stomach again. So we walked all the way down from Raincliffe Hotel to Waterfront, up to the Castle, and down again, and all the way to the venerable Scarborough Spa. A very long walk under the soft rain that begun to shower over the town during the afternoon. 

While my classmates surrendered to my tireless rythm and decided to go back to hotel for a well deserved rest, I made my mind up for a last run. And this is how, lads, I ended up my afternoon seated here at The Merchant with a Ginger Ale in one hand, my tablet in the other, a smile in my face and a really epic stomach ache. 

Before leaving you for tonight, I can not resist a final temptation. Take it easy, is not a culinary one. Scarborough is a very famous place, among other things, because of a very popular song, 'Scarborough Fair'. I can not think of a better way of celebrating those 24 hours than sharing it with you all. Here you have it. https://g.co/kgs/MLVaJF

And now, lads, I'm making my exit. For some strange reason that eludes me right now, I arranged a meeting tomorrow at 7:00 in the morning to go jogging with a couple of classmates. And I have to honor my word. So, excuse me my friends, this poor man is done, and goes to bed. Farewell!

Erasmus Project Lunch

Hello everybody!

Yesterday we celebrated our Erasmus Project Lunch. Our vocational training students prepared an outstanding meal, merging in different dishes from all over the E.U. It was a great success, as people from all our town came to have lunch and  enjoy diversity with all us in the best possible way, physically tasting it. Here you have some pics, and there will be more to come.

Teacher in Lunch

A few days ago, I decided to take a breath and get my hands into the tasty lunch our vocational training students students prepared for us. Well, I got my hands and the rest of me followed suite to a tasty bath of calories... It was a thematic lunch, with dishes from all over the European Union, and I want to share with you my personal selection. Here we go....

 Above, my friends, is my first dish. The poor lonely green on the upper corner, which is just there for decorative purposes, is a Niçoise Salad. If you follow me clockwise, you'll travel to Poland -Golabki, which is a meat roll-, carellian rice cakes and, finnally, a slice of 'vitello tonnato', an italian recipe. Are you hungry? There's more to come...

 My second dish shows a delicious risotto in the centre, flanked by a croatian pasticada... Yummie!

 Finnally, for desserts, a little bit of a mix here: ice cream, pear cake, cream cake, and a cream puff with strawberries.

Do you think I went too far? Do you believe I'm blurring the thin line of my... well, my fitness line? But you're forgetting who you're talking with! I'm an experienced history teacher, me. And I've got plenty of philosophical, moral and psycological arguments for refusing your refutations. Exempli gratia:

• Negasionist argument: those pictures are fake. What I had really had was a dish of stewed spinachs and a natural yougurt.
• Army argument: I was following orders. My school's deputy head and psycologist were seated in the same table. I had no options...
• Platonic argument: the feast you see here is just a shadow of primoridal and ideal delicacies, and shadows DO NOT HAVE CALORIES. Any problem?
•  Constructivist argument: any dish is, in fact, a mere mean of expression, made out of a serie of grammatically coherent resources, and as you try to make any sense out of what I've just said, I helped myself desserts twice.
• Postmodern argument: any generalization on calories amount and / or metabolic consequences on the food I had is, in essence, deceitful. The very dish you see in the pictures is, too, fake, a lie to our senses. True is unknowable and inexpressible. Therefore, I eat what I want. Could you please pass me the whipped fallacy?
•  Political argument: there only are one or two sweets; the rest of it is healthy food.
• Epicurean argument: eating is pleasant.
• Freud's argument: any culinary liking expresses a deep childhood trauma, probably a sexual one. Individuals can't help trying to balance their character deficiencies through eating very rich, very fat food. Are you going to pass me the whipped cream, or do I have to go there and take it out from your cold dead fingers?
• Leonidas argument: spartans do not ask how many calories are there, but where they are. Au! Au! Au!

The (don't) travel agency

So here I am. Me. Oh yes. Julio the Wanderer. Walking down the street all big and fat and coming into a very popular travel agency in Huelva. A couple of street musicians are preparing themselves for playing something just by the door. The travel agency is in a very crowded, commercial street, downtown Huelva. And I feel myself rather optimistic as I come through the agency's door and the musicians begin to perpetrate "Four Seasons" of Vivaldi. Spring, I think. 

The bell rattles as I negotiate the stairs and open the door. There are some people already inside, so I take a seat and wait. Here is what I see around me. Two clerks are attending customers, and both are busy. One, a middle-aged woman, is indeed busy. She's showing a whole family some traveling options and hotels for the Costa del Sol beaches. Right now, one of the girls, the eldest daughter, is saying she wants to travel very very far, to another country. I can't avoid a beatific smile. The other clerk is a man. He's just finished with a customer and another one steps ahead. Outside, a spring sun shines gently warming the city. Isn't it a great day for planning a travel? 

As I've decided to tell you my experiences in this blog, I wrote down some notes. Here they are.

18:09 Seated inside the (insert name here) travel agency. So anxious!

18:23 Nobody moves. Not so anxious now. Clerks still with the same people. The family is now discussing options and prices in front of everybody. Musicians outside playing 'The fly of the bumblebee'

18:35 I take out my cell. Then I think what I'm going to do with it. I decide to play 'Clash of Something' -if you want to see your game's name here, I'm open to talk about my fee.

18:37 Lost my first match.

18:38 Lost my second match.

18:38 Lost my third match. WTF?

18:39 Winning my fourth match, but the connection brokes.

18:42 Lost my fifth match.

18:43 My cell switches off because it decides its battery is too low and I'm playing too bad.

18:43 I slowly and delicately put my cell inside my pocket. Then, I sigh.

18:52. The same family still seated with the middle-aged clerk. The musicidians outside now attack 'Please don't go', and apparently there are no survivors.

19:03 Sigh.

19:07 Yawn.

19:09 The eldest girl in the family states again she wants to go very very far. I want her to go very very far, too. Oh, please, let them go. I look at the other customers in the store. An aged woman glances at me, sympathetic. Yes, dear, we all want you to go.

19:10 I'm going to kill someone. One of the adults in the family asks the clerk about going to Punta Cana. Musicians outside also wants to kill people playing the 'Psicosis' main soundtrack. Yes. The bath killing sequence one. I wonder if they're reading my mind. As an answer, they start playing 'Jaw's' main theme. 

19:16 The mind-readers musicians now play a Requiem, nor I remember nor I care whose one.

19:28 One of the clerks -not the woman, beacause she's having so much fun- finishes with his customer. I'm about to step to his desk, but suddenly he steps out of the office and starts talking to his cell. I take out mine, but then I remember it has no battery. Delicately and slowly, I put it in my pocket again. I think of when life was better and I was younger, before I came into this forsaken travel agency. I sigh. Again.

19:32 Finnally the family stands and prepare to go. Emotional level inside the store boils. The other customers noisily breath and smile. Musicians outside play Mendelssohn's 'Midsummer Night's Dream'. Life is great and shinny again as I stand and happily walk to the clerk woman's desk. I sit. She smiles to me. I smile to her.

Finnally, I'm able to tell the clerk what I need. You now, travelling to Scarborough this summer. Conversation goes, more or less, as follows.

Clerk. 'Don't you need me to book an hotel?' 

Me. 'No'. 

Clerk. 'You just want me to solve the travel?' 

Me. 'Yes'. 

Clerk. She tips in her computer. She frowns. 'Isn't there an airport at Scarborough?' 

Me. 'Don't think so'

Clerk. 'Do you know what's Scarborough's nearest airport?' 

Me. 'No, Manchester's I think', but who's the travel agent here?

Clerk. 'Look, here we can't solve your travel from the airport to Scarborough. The only thing I can do is book you a flight to and from Manchester. But after that you're on your own'

Me. 'You can't manage my whole travel'

Clerk. 'No, we can't'

Me. 'But this is a travel agency.'

Clerk. 'Indeed, it is. But we only can sell you a travel+hotel full pack, or help you booking your flight'

Me. 'But I could do that from my house. what's the point in doing it here?'

Clerk. 'The point is you wait an hour and a half and pay 40€ more for something you could have done from your house' and she smiles.

Slowly and delicately and POLITELY I say thank you and farewell and step out to the street. The... wonderful... musicicicians are playing Tchaikovsky's 'Pathètique'. I put on my sun glasses. Sigh. Walk.

Scarborough: here I go!

 Hello to you all!

My name is Julio Monge. For those of you who doesn't know a bit about me, here's some basic info. I'm a 38 y.o. Social Science teacher in Spain. I work in a little pretty seaside town in the province of Huelva, southern Spain, very near to the Portuguese border. I put my life in the line every day trying to teach History, Geography and English to those big brained bags full of hormones we usually call secondary students. As I really have so much fun with my job, I reluctantly jumped straight with both feets into the opportunity to go as far away as I can. Which, in this case, is the city of Scarborough, in the United Kingdom.

The idea is to (try to) improve my teaching skills and my command in English. I also intend making new contacts and share experiences with workmates from all over the E.U. Hopefully, I will also be able to have a look at how other European educative systems deal with the kind of problem we deal with in my school, like students getting asleep while I try to get inside their heads interesting historical stuff. Yes, it is interesting stuff. 

During the weeks to come I'm going to tell you a tale. The tale of a poor and provincial Spanish teacher travelling to the very cosmopolitan, and a little bit turbulent right now, United Kingdom of Great Britain and North Ireland. Well, nothing new here, all Europe is a little bit in turmoil right now, isn't it.

But I need your help. As I like to prepare things in advance, I'm preparing a "talk list" so I have some prepared topics to talk about when I arrive in England, so I can make a lot of friends over there. The list, as for now, is as follows:

Topic 1. Touching the Rock. No, really, couldn't we share Gibraltar as goods kids? Kind of hundred years shifts. No?

Topic 2. Brexit, theory and practice of what the hell are you going to do. Now, seriously, what the hell are you going to do? Better together, don't you remember? We're going to miss you.

Topic 3. Anglo-Spanish shared experiences. Let's talk about all those battles we fought together and how many limbs did we lose to each other. Yes, I've said together. Well, you know, we were on the same battlefield. Sometimes even at the same time.

Topic 4. Scottish Gambit; how to play it. But I have to be careful as I can get into a dreadful Catalonian Defense. If so, I plan a bold Irish Counter-Attack.

Would you like to suggest me more topics for my talk list? You now, the kind of topics that will keep me away from problems? Like if you please, comment if you dare!