First week in San Javier

I am writing this from a café in the Plaza Central in San Javier, a small town in the region of Murcia, Spain. A huge wedding brigade have just entered the church, after a procession of tooting cars which paraded through this town's one-way streets. I have been here one week today and after some initial homesickness for city life I think I am enjoying the pueblito lifestyle. It is calmer, life is slower, people are generally more personable. The waitress at this café even recognised me yesterday. In cities I tend to feel invisible, an anonymity which I usually enjoy. Here, such an existence isn't really compatible with the proximity of everything. 

This (previously unknown) feeling of being known is also helped by the fact that I am working in two primary schools here as an auxiliar de inglés (an English language assistant). My strolls through the town are usually met by the stares of children who I teach at school, some of whom genuinely believe that I commute from the U.K everyday by plane. So far it has been a mixed experience, and everyday I am shattered from the combination of working with energetic children and communicating in a second language. The two schools are very different, as are the profesores and their teaching styles. Some lessons I have taken on a more collaborative role, playing guessing games and quizzes. Others I have just observed, soaking up this new experience and trying to learn myself. I have never properly worked with children before, or even had much experience teaching, so this is all new to me. 

An abandoned building (school? hospital?) in San Javier

Further along from San Javier is Santiago de la Ribera which borders the Mar Menor, Europe's largest saltwater lagoon. Here you will find beachside cafés, churrerías, panaderías, and bars laden with bronzed Brits. (Mind these are only open at the weekend during the winter season). The Mar Menor is surrounded by mainland Spain, and on the other side what is known as La Manga, a strip of land lined with hotels that twinkle at night. Beyond that is the Mediterranean. 

For the most part people keep their shutters closed here. It's as if they are averse to the sun, like naturally tanned vampires who have become indifferent to the glorious weather they receive. Either that or the houses are genuinely empty. Along La Ribera there are roads and roads of condos, grand chalets with balconies and palm trees, all vacant, their shutters down. It's a shame that such a beautiful place only comes alive for a few months of the year. And the rest of the year it is a sleepy unresided place, almost a secret. Apparently there is a joke among Spaniards that they should put Murcia on the map because no one has heard of it. Although a joke, it does ring true in some ways. Despite this, I think maybe it is better being here in the quieter season. I enjoy sitting on the empty beach, with a few expats doing crosswords.

View over Santiago de la Ribera and La Manga on the horizon to the left