Week 1b - I cannot dance

Today was the first day of school. It all feels so non-stop. I am exhausted already and there is a whole week ahead. I still cannot quite process what is going on. UKLC have flown me out, given me five-star training in Kent, provided great and uncomplicated accommodation, fed me and have basicaly done everything from putting me on the plane in London through to just short of tucking me into bed in Spain. It's like magic.

I realised today that being here for such a short time makes my place at Pastorina (my school) all the more important. ‘There’s nothing worse than a handshake agreement reinforced with legal paperwork, humbling generosity and notable kindness’, I thought. ‘I’m in big trouble here…’

We were driven to the school by Sophia from Language Kingdom who was lovely and spoke with perfect English. Stepping from the car, I was greeted by the sound of Jailhouse Rock by Elvis Presley in the air. As we were led to the school, the sound seemed to grow louder until we reached a huge gate. Upon opening it, the music (at well over festival level decibels) was revealed as the reason for 200 Spanish teenagers doing the twist in the playground. I admit, I was somewhat surprised by all of this. Not because it wasn’t Tego Calderon or Daddy Yankee, there was clearly an English language consideration in terms of the track selection (it's a bilingual school), but they were just such good dancers. Even the teachers were dancing. 

During our training in Kent, there was a little dance training and although I had done my best to learn the cha-cha, I really cannot dance for shizzle (Note: in Spanish ‘shizzle’ is pronounced the same, it is only one Z which is pronounced as a ‘th’ such ‘thero-thero for a 0.0% alcohol beer). Whilst I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, once again, it crossed my mind that with my poor footwork on the dancefloor ‘I’m in big trouble here…’