GTL.

For those of you out there who may have (or may have not) at one point or another watched this one TV show about a certain group of people who may or may not be Italian and may or may not spend a lot of time in a beach house in a certain East Coast state, you’ll know that they have a certain acronym for something they do A LOT of the time: GTL.

GTL, as you may or may not know, involves the cast of this particular show spending a lot of time at the Gym, Tanning, and doing Laundry at, well, the Jersey Shore (or Italy, depending on what season you may or may not be watching.) That being said, I’m not trying to compare my life to that of Pauly D or JWoww, but GTL should certainly be a term used when living in Valencia, Spain as well. But, some days, it feels like all I do (besides teach 130 children) is go to the gym, tan, and do laundry. 

However, it’s so much better than any GTL they partake in on the Jersey Shore.

Gym memberships in Spain are expensive and not many people use them. Therefore, being on my limited, but nonetheless gracious, government funding, I have found a gym in the place of the former Turia River, which was transformed into a park after some severe flooding in the 1960’s. It contains some pretty incredible paths, fountains, gardens, playgrounds, and a few sports fields. Oh, and an elusive metro station it took me a week to find since Google maps led me astray. There is nothing better after a long day (well, “long day” is a relative term when comparing days in Spain and the United States) than walking the two blocks from my flat to the park and running down to and around the City of Arts and Sciences and back. A few weeks ago I was really hung up about how much I would miss my long runs in the Parkway and, even more so, Wissahickon Valley Creek, but this is something completely different. And I really, really love it.

Tanning is another given when living in Valencia, especially for those of us who have complexions of alabaster. People don’t need to go tanning here per say. Why pay when you have the Mediterranean? You end up four shades darker in the first week living here since the sun ALWAYS shines. No, seriously, we looked it up: it is sunny approximately 300 days a year. That’s 82% of the year. This past Sunday, September 18, was the first day we even saw clouds in the sky. The only time we thought it was raining was at night- but it turned out to merely be the misfortune of standing on a street under a leaky air-conditioning unit. Long story made shorter: Valencia is sunny and sun makes you tan, no matter what you do.

Laundry, likewise, has not become the ordeal we originally thought it was going to be and that is mainly due to sheer dumb luck. You see, while washers are prevalent throughout Europe, dryers are not. In fact, while visiting one apartment, Diego, a twenty-something realtor showing us the place laughed at us when we asked if there was a dryer and said, “Silly Americans. I lived in Maryland for five years and that was a luxury for us. Dryers don’t exist here.” Then he proceeded to point to a nice long line where  we would have to hang our goods for the next year if we took the flat. The next day, we looked at two flats (one we considered living in and one we are actually living in) and BOTH had dryers. Therefore, Diego, I’m sorry to inform you of this, but not only are you incorrect in your statement, but your apartment is no longer an interest of ours. You can feel free to hang out with us at our new place a few blocks away. So we have a dryer. It isn’t the greatest in the world, but it will do for this year and I m a very happy camper. And after generating a few loads of dirty clothing from Madrid and the first few days in Valencia, you better believe that all we have been doing for the past few days is laundry.

Now that all of the boring information is out of the way, let’s go on to some more humorous things I have seen go down in Spain that would never, or rarely, happen in the United States. Enjoy.

• A mother and her three year old son are on the metro one morning. I know the little boy is three because I heard the mother say he was three. The boy starts to fuss and fussing turns into a tantrum. People are starting to stare. So what does mom do? She whips her boob out full force while on the metro so people can see everything and starts feeding her son. Now, while public breastfeeding is not uncommon in America, she was breastfeeding a three year old. Interesting, to say the least. I’m pretty sure Freud would have some snarky remark for that one.

• On the first day of school, my co-teacher had a picture of an American flag that she wanted me to color. I explained the history of the American flag what felt like 6028 times that day. I gave detailed and amazing descriptions of the flag and its history in perfect English and Spanish. Then after this amazing story, which they all thought was fascinating, the only questions and clarifications they had were, “Do you have a boyfriend?” and “If you have a boyfriend, do you have children together?” (HANDSLAPTOTHEFACE)

• The Spanish are completely dedicated to their break time. In September at school, they only go from 9:00 am to 1:00 pm. That’s only four hours. At 11:00, they need a break. We’re all hanging out in the teachers’ lounge and one teacher, a special education teacher, pulled out her lunch. Part of her lunch included a San Miguel. San Miguel is a Spanish beer. All I could do was laugh at the humor of this situation because that totally cannot happen in America. However...if the day...gets really bad here in Spain.....just kidding. Maybe.

There are so many more exciting and hilarious things that happen here, but I cannot think them now. So instead of thinking of them now, I’ll go to the Valencia-Barcelona futbol match instead.