Forty-four strangers slowly assemble in the drenching rain, huddling beneath a meagre lobby overhang. It's only 7:30 a.m., dark and dreary on this anonymous Madrid street corner. I fleetingly wonder whether my decision to volunteer for a week at an English as a second language (ESL) school in Spain was a wise one.
I had been lured by the twin prospects of meeting and helping a whole new set of people, and of enjoying a week's free board and lodging in a beautiful, remote area of Spain. Had I been naïve? Too optimistic?
But as people introduce themselves and the chatting begins, I reckon it will be a congenial group. The group comprises the "victims" - as our Spanish students are fondly nicknamed - and the Anglos who have volunteered to help them improve their English skills. There are Anglos from the U.K., Texas, Jamaica, Canada, Australia, South Africa, India. We speak in a rainbow of accents and dialects: "divided by a common language," someone quips. No previous teaching experience is needed, just our enthusiasm and ability to talk.
Volunteering may be the best way possible to learn another culture, but we're not all young enough or physically adventurous enough for more rugged assignments like digging wells in Uganda, saving street dogs in South America, or dealing with the aftermath of a major disaster.
Helping a person with their English may be tame compared to that but it is nevertheless tremendously rewarding. Here in Spain, the students are as diverse as their Anglo tutors: all ages, all backgrounds, ranging from the professional (a lawyer, a civil engineer, an executive with the Réal Madrid soccer team) to the unemployed. They are all united in a common belief that improved English skills equal improved career opportunities. With unemployment in Spain currently around 25 per cent, these individuals are seriously committed to their studies.
We board the coach that will take us deep into southern Spain, to the remote Coto del Valle national park, some five hours away. Each Anglo must sit next to a Spanish student from the get-go: five hours talking to complete strangers on a bus? Am I crazy? My first companion is Cristina, a neurologist, who shows me all the sights as we leave the city. She is so proud of her country and I realize how little I know about Spanish culture; how little I remember about Cervantes, Segovia, Dali, Picasso, El Cid; how superficial my knowledge of flamenco or paella. Yes, I quickly decide, this week is going to be a great cultural exchange.
The program leaders provide ample help for the Anglos along the way, like a daily idiom to discuss or a list of conversation topics to choose from. Sessions are mixed between 1:1, 2:2, larger groups, telephone calls. Any qualms I had about my ability to talk to strangers for eight hours a day disappear - simply because the "victims" are destined to become my friends. Each Anglo works with each Spaniard on a rotational basis and after the obvious starting points ("Where do you come from?" "Where do you work?" "What are your hobbies?"), we find ourselves discussing anything and everything. By day six, we're into intense debates about politics, unemployment, gay rights, bullfighting.
The remote locations selected for these courses are "so that the victims can't escape," as our course director Jason, a transplanted Canadian, so aptly puts it. We travel through the rural centre of Spain, passing windmills, broad vineyards, fields of apple blossom set against spring-green grass and guarded by neat borders of olive trees. As we enter the Sierra Cazorla with its snow-capped mountains in the distance, this is beautiful countryside. The road becomes steeper, narrower, with hairpin bends giving us a few white-knuckle moments. Still we climb, up through
the Valle Qualividir, an area of spruce and pine forests, rocky terrain. Upstaged by the road and the scenery, the bus falls silent - a unique occurrence, trust me.
We stay deep inside the national park at a hotel built of pale honey coloured stone, with outdoor pool, patios, even a spa for the weary. Who would want to escape this? Especially as we tuck into a typical tapas meal featuring Serrano ham, Russian salad, local cheeses, olives, patés, Spanish omelette and croquettes. It's a leisurely meal, so typical of Spain, and it reassures us that we will be very well fed this week. The term "splendid isolation" comes to mind.
The working day lasts from 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. and at no time are the Spaniards allowed to speak Spanish, not even amongst themselves during the brief coffee breaks. It's total immersion and must be mentally exhausting for them. Did I mention they were committed? Evenings pass by with entertainment:
hilarious skits, a yoga session, slide presentations, a surprisingly good talent show. One evening, the students perform a Galician queimada ceremony for us. We feel honoured because the ceremony is traditionally performed with family and close friends. A table is laden with an array of strong liquor, sugar, spices and lemons to make the queimada punch. Three witches recite incantations, acting suitably ghoulishly while one lights the alcoholic brew and lets it burn bright blue in the darkened room. Traditional spells and incantations are recited, so that special (and positive) powers are conferred to the queimada and those drinking it. The ensuing drink is strong and spicy and pretty good.
Suddenly, it's time for farewells. It's funny how fast a week can go, given the right circumstances, and after just seven days together, these farewells are surprisingly emotional. I'm sad because this is
good-bye to our wonderful Spanish companions, who have shared so much of their culture; sad to leave this beautiful national park and return to the city. Back on the highway to Madrid, I already know I want to volunteer again soon, even if I'm not going to be digging wells in Uganda, saving street dogs in South America, or dealing with the aftermath of a major disaster. Volunteers, after all, come in all shapes, sizes and talents.
If you go: ESL schools offering volunteer programs include diverbo.com (courses in Spain and Germany) and englishsummit.eu (courses in Italy). Volunteers are responsible for getting to a central point, for example Milan or Madrid, and this will likely mean overnight stays there at the start and end of the course. The schools do not cover these costs or any personal costs. Volunteers must have their own medical and other insurances, too.
