tah-ee-lorr

as a rule, i'm pretty easy to get along with.

... let me rephrase that.

generally, i like my peers.

... one more time.

unless you're impossible to be around, i will not fantasize about shanking you.

that's not to say that i don't like people. actually, i fancy myself a people person. but lately, i've been overcome by the urge to slap my spanish professors with whatever notebook i'm currently doodling on. and it's not because of his or her teaching style, thick spanish accent, or inability to get to class on time. this urge has taken over my thoughts because of one mistake that every single one of my teachers has committed:

pronouncing my name how it would sound in spanish.

granted, my parents (bless their hearts) did not bestow upon me a traditional mexican name. and i am forever grateful for that, because otherwise, anyone with half a brain would look at me, see that my name was ______ (maría, josefina, luisa josé de la santa maria...) herrera, and immediately assume that i had just gotten off the boat from guadalajara. so, as a thank-you to my dear mother and father, i have an english name.

but that doesn't help the fact that i also look very mexican, and am currently living in a country full to the brim of spanish speakers. again, don't get me wrong -- i absofruitly love having a natural tan all year and being mistaken for hawaiian/kind of asian/exotic (that one's my favorite... partially because NO ONE who uses it has any clue what it means). i am a secure young woman who can handle the puzzled looks of passersby that are probably thinking "where did this mexicana learn english?"

and now, to my point.

i am starting a new round of classes here in spain, and for the love of all that is holy, i cannot contain my emotions when a professor calls roll and says, without fail, "TAH-EE-LORR? Tah-ee-lorr, HERRERA?!?! Eres española? Pero porqué tienes un nombre tan inglesa?" ("You're Spanish? But why do you have such an English name?")

this is where i go through the exact same routine:

1) say my name in english with an american accent. taylor.

professor gives me a quizzical look.

2) repeat my name more slowly, maintaining american accent. tayyylorrrr.

by the looks of it, teach has just suffered an intense drop in IQ.

3) say my name slowly in a spanish accent. teh-ee-lorr.

prof has just had an aneurysm.

4) give up and let my professor call me whatever they can manage. usually something along the lines of tyler, tah-ee-lorr, or -- the best -- tee-lehr.

this sequence of events has happened enough times that i've learned to adopt a spanish alter-ego for whenever a spaniard asks my name. her name is carolina (and my last name is herrera... laugh if you get it).

i guess at the end of the day, it doesn't really matter what people here call me. i've learned to answer to all forms of the name 'taylor' without problem. but let's just say that i've added more yoga and stretching into my daily routine, as well.

ps -- you know what's even more fun than having a spanish last name in a spanish-speaking country? seeing the looks on people's faces when you tell them you're from california. but more on that later. i have to do some eagle pose before i burst a vein in my forehead.

you might say i'm in a different place

that place being sevilla, spain! as of last thursday, i have begun the next four months of my life as a wannabe sevillian (sevillian... civilian... haha... bad jokes are still good jokes). and what do i have to say of my new life so far?

i. love. everything.

from the way that all you can see has been somehow shrunk down to half its normal--read: american--size (people, cars, rooms...) to the indescribably delicious food my host mother, Ana, makes every day. my classes during a short intensive period are perfect--just the right level of review and learning new aspects of spanish culture. and don't get me started on tapas.

really, don't.*

one thing that has caught my attention is the fact that one of my somewhat recently added physical features (a tattoo on the outside of my left thigh) seems to be something newsworthy to the natives. after wearing a short skirt to school today (no, not that short. please trust that i can tell where people are looking when they stare), i realized that heads turned from every direction to ogle my left leg. "is my skirt riding up? do my boots clash with my outfit? am i on fire?" these thoughts all passed through my mind as the number of astonished passersby grew. a) check skirt; still in position. b) check boots; still go nicely with today's ensemble. c) quick check to see if i should stop, drop, and roll; no flame to be seen. so what's the big deal?

although i won't know until the days start getting warmer, i think tattoos are unusual here. in a country where women never set foot on a soccer field (or other sports arena, i might add), i can't imagine that my fellow females would adopt such a masculine habit. well, all i can say is buckle up spain, you're in for a bumpy, tattoo-filled summer.

on another note...

while watching "friends" dubbed in spanish during lunch today, a commercial came on for another sitcom. the picture showed the profile of a cat, with the words "7 vidas" (seven lives). i asked Ana if cats indeed had seven lives here in merry spain, and she confirmed my suspicions.

poor kittykats, life's rough on the peninsula.

anyway, time for bed. and hopefully writing this will keep me from thinking in spanish first, then translating to english as i talk/write. one can only hope. and pray to the dear lord baby jesus for overkill.

adios todos!

*because they are DELICIOUS, HEAVENLY, PERFECTLY SIZED, AFFORDABLE, BLAHBLAHBAHBLABABHBHBABHLAH....... you get it.