Throngs of Babies and Oodles of English

Sunset on La Caleta, prime thong baby site

Picture this juxtaposition: gaggles of Wifi users hunched over their laptops on the steps of an ostentatious cathedral in Europe’s oldest city. I feel funny leaning against this heavy cathedral door, doing something so modern when I could be inside looking at bloody crucifixes and portraits of dead monks.

Though it has wifi in certain plazas, (in an effort to attract more tourism), Cadiz is a slow-paced, old fashioned city. It teems with Moorish architecture and narrow roads not much wider than American SUVs. It’s a sun-drenched tourist destination, buzzing with a slew of Spanish accents (all of which unfortunately contain the theta), and hoards of babies and old people.

These two populations have a lot in common, really – status, power in numbers, and pleasantly plump. These babies are thicker than American babies that strolled into the Purple Glaze all summer. So plump they can’t move. They lie flat in their reclining strollers, looking like dolls in fashionable onesies. And the old folks sit around like Humpty Dumpties, expecting you to yield, dodge, or help whenever they choose to move. But the babies really crack me up. Lap dogs have become accessories in the U.S., but babies are accessories and status symbols here. And they stay out later than I do! I’ve noticed babies fast asleep, flung over their fathers’ shoulders at three am in plazas and bars. They’re always dressed to the max, sporting rhinestone studded earrings and completely color-coordinated shoes, clothes and strollers. But the beach is a different arena. The other day I actually saw a four-year-old wearing a thong. (And of course no top!) In Spain it’s normal for girls to build sand castles topless on the beach, but in thongs?! How does a four-year-old find this at all appealing and comfortable? Maybe her mother wanted to show off her cute baby bottom. Not long after my first thong baby sighting, I saw a little boy running loosey goosey, hunting for seashells.

You only need to spend thirty minutes in Cadiz to notice the babies and elderly. If you see a young woman walking down the street without a stroller, she’s usually pregnant. Or, in the words of my new British friends, “She’s got a bump due to drop any minute."


Pedestrians gaze at Moorish architecture and the Atlantic

My TEFL (same as TESOL, fyi) tutors and six of fifteen classmates are British, so my version of the mother tongue has improved leaps and bounds. I say “quite” “a bit” and “have a think” quite a lot. Another interesting accent I’ve picked up is the non-native English accent. Thanks to my students, I can fake a Spaniard trying to speak English pretty well. But Spanish has been useful only at the grocery store and my regular cafe. From sunup to sundown my class is inside the TEFL building, teaching, dissecting and breathing the English language. It’s strange to leave my flat in the morning, walk seven minutes through Spain, and enter through the doors to Planet English. Ten or more hours later I leave this little bubble and weave through Spanish babies and grandparents, only to do my English lesson plans and papers. So, besides the babies and old people, I really haven’t discovered much of Cadiz or Spain. It’s all good, though. Classes are fun and so far I love teaching.



A few English students and fellow TESOL trainees

I'm applying for jobs in lots of different countries. Until then, I’ll be a TESOL teacher/student by day, and thong baby spy by night!