I Love My Major

Something happened today that made me feel...smart? Special? Or maybe stupid, and uncultured...

I had just missed my tram to the center, it was one of those times where I saw it close its doors and drive away as I was approaching. I checked the schedule to find out that the next tram came in 10 minutes, and remembered there was another tram stop nearby that went to the center as well. I walked up to it, saw a tram there but wasn't sure if it was the right tram. Figuring it wasn't wise to hop on a tram that I couldn't be entirely sure was the right one, I watched it drive away as I ran up to check the schedule. Awesome, that was the right tram, and wouldn't come for another 10 minutes. So I walked back to my original spot as I figured that tram would come first.

As I was waiting, a short, stout Czech woman came up to me. I would guess she was 70 years old. She asked me something in Czech, and I whipped out my customary " nemluvím cesky" (I don't speak Czech). She was very friendly, smiled, and said something else in Czech. I took an educated guess and decided that she was asking what language I speak. I told her anglický (English), and she shook her head. She raised her eyebrows and asked, "French?" I said no. She shrugged and started walking away. I decided to play the language game with her and show her that she isn't the only one who can speak more than one language. I said " španělský" (Spanish) without much any expectation that she would speak Spanish. She turned around and said, "Ahhhh, muy bien." She then proceeded to tell me, in Spanish, that she wanted to know when the next tram to the center was arriving. I was in shock that she spoke what seemed to be perfect Spanish, albeit with a bad accent (not unlike my own!) I told her that it had come about 3 or 4 minutes ago.

She thanked me and asked me if I was from Spain. I said no, but I lived there for a while and thus can speak Spanish. She said she lived in Quito, Ecuador with her husband because he worked in the embassy there. Well, it's a small world after all.

My favorite part of this story is that an oldish woman in the Czech Republic speaks so many languages. I'm young and vibrant and can barely speak 2. Young Czech people are great at languages, but the older Czech people usually only speak Czech, and maybe German or Russian because that is what they used to teach in school. Secondly, here I am in Central Europe and my easiest way of communicating (sometimes) is in Spanish. Thirdly, I am so glad I missed those trams, because speaking in Spanish with that old Czech lady made my day.

Blackboard Issues

Well, I teach English in a public school. During lunch time, I teach a short, 1 hour English class to a select few Czech students whose parents have decided they want to pay forward a bit of extra cash so their kids can learn English for 1 hour, twice a week. I teach in the classroom of a Czech teacher, and as I teach during the lunch hour, it's empty, apart from the teacher wandering in and out, eating her lunch, and grading papers. She is a very nice teacher, always says hello to me (in Czech of course) and even gave me a piece of banana bread once! However, she speaks no English. Literally, none. I have tried saying things in English to her, just to make casual conversation, because I definitely cannot do that in Czech, and there is an insurmountable language barrier between us. I deal with it; smiling and saying hello and goodbye will just have to suffice.

However, I walk into the classroom one day and see this sign on the chalkboard.


When I first see it, I stare at it. I didn't think it was for me, because I consider myself a generally courteous person - I would never use her board and then not clean it. But then I stared at it some more and realized that of COURSE it is meant for me, who else in that school speaks English?? None of the teachers speak English, except the young one on the opposite side of the building. This teacher must have done some serious Google Translating at home. I feel offended because I do indeed clean the board, so where is the problem?

I continue as I always did, using the board and cleaning it after every lesson. Then, a couple weeks later, (last Friday to be exact), I had the good luck that one of the student's mothers (who speaks English!) dropped him off at the class. As I was chatting with her, the teacher walked up to me hastily and started going off in Czech. She seemed more worried than angry. After she finished talking I stared at her, then looked at the child's mother. I had an inkling that I knew what this rant was about, and I was correct. The mother explained that the teacher would like me to clean the board when I am done using it. I told the mother that I do indeed clean the board after every lesson. The mother translated for me and then the teacher told her that I don't clean it well, there are always streaks, and that I need to rinse out the eraser with water. I told the mother that I do, how else would I clean a blackboard? Anyway, this went on for a minute and I surrendered and said I will try harder. Quite frankly, I don't know what more I can do. Next week I will bring in some bleach and sandpaper and just go at it. Next paycheck, I'm buying this woman a whiteboard.

Locks in the CR

Locks on doors in this country are strange. Now, most people wouldn't devote an entire blog entry to locks on doors, but apparently locks on doors are a subject close to my heart. Anyway, I'm not talking about locks on main doors. I'm talking about bathroom door locks. They are quite literally locks, with keys.




I wouldn't complain, except they are not always as simple as one might hope. You turn the key to lock it, then turn it the other way to unlock it, and sometimes it doesn't open right away. I have never considered myself a particularly claustrophobic person, but when I am in a one square foot bathroom at a bar or even in my apartment and can't get out, my blood pressure starts to rise.

In the school where I teach, a little girl locked herself in the bathroom; as in, she could not open the door and kept turning the key round and round with no success. She started crying and screaming hysterically in Czech, and I felt more than a little useless. Thank goodness, at that very moment her mother arrived to pick her up and ran up to the door and started speaking to her in Czech, and a few seconds later, after some more attempts of turning the key, she emerged tear-faced and shaking from the trauma.

Some bathrooms, such as the one in this school, have a key in the lock that one must turn to lock and unlock the door. But, hypothetically, if I were crazy, I could easily lock the door, throw the key out the window of the bathroom, and be stuck in the bathroom. No one from outside the bathroom could save me, and my only means of getting out just flew out the window. The window is not big enough for a person to fit through. What would I do? How would I ever leave that bathroom without a fire squad coming in and saving me? Needless to say I have no plans of chucking the key out the window, I'm just saying, it is physically possible.

Now, whatever happened to the door knob with the lovely little button that locks the door and unlocks when you simply turn the handle? I never thought I would miss something as simple as a door lock.




Just to point out, not all bathroom doors are like this. Some have a metal bar that slides easily into a hole in the wall when you close the door, and opens equally as easy.

Although, when going into a new bathroom in a bar, I always test the door before actually closing it. And if it is a weird lock, I just don't lock the door. I have indeed been walked in on quite a few times, but you know what, I prefer that over locking myself in an unknown bathroom in a noisy bar in a foreign country.

In addition, I always always always bring my cell phone with me to the bathroom. Because ya just never know when you're not going to be able to return to your drink as quickly as you want to.

Czech Ads

I love Google. That is to say, I like Google as much as I could probably like an inanimate object.

However, I have recently been getting Czech advertisements on the side of my Gmail. So it's caught on that I'm in the Czech Republic, bravoooo! Too bad I don't speak Czech.

That's great. Excuse me while I don't bother translating this.

When advertisements are in a foreign language, I don't pay attention to them and they aren't so bothersome. Like my grandma who lost her sense of smell says, you might not be able to smell roses anymore, but you don't have to put up with odors either.

Language Barrier

I came to the Czech Republic without any knowledge of Czech, and quite frankly, with little desire to learn it. I've heard it's a simple language in that prepositions are not used much and sentence construction is easy, but I've also heard that it is difficult because, well, it is nothing like English. Or Spanish. Auto means car, politika means politics, and that is where the similarities end. Learning this language would be the definition of starting at square one, and the knowledge of it will be useful for me for exactly one year. After that, its relevance disappears. For me, at least. To make up for my lack of Czech, which I do at times feel guilty about, especially when I see my friends trying to pick up a bit of Czech, I have been working on improving my Spanish vocabulary by reading Spanish books. Spanish is a language I already know a lot of and plan to use for the rest of my life, so for me, it has more utility.

For these reasons, and probably more, I have not mustered up any interest in learning Czech, to which my trilingual German roommate snickered and stated that I am indeed a true American. I arrvived here without even knowing how to say hello, yes, or no, which, looking back, seems absurd to me now, considering how useful these words are. However, I came to Prague ethnocentrically thinking that more people would speak English than in reality really do.

I have picked up some useful words and phrases mostly because my survival instincts kicked in. Ano is yes. Ano is a lot of fun, because the way the Czechs pronounce it, it sounds like how I pronounce "I know" and so the rare times that I hear Czech people talking on their cell phones in public, when they answer the phone, to my untrained ears it sounds like they are stating to the caller that they know why they are calling. In addition, ano in Spanish means anus. Spanish is not my native language, so I try and imagine using the word "anus" in place of yes, and don't quite know how I would do it.

Dobry den means good day, but it is used as hello here. Ahoj (pronounced ahoy) means hello, but is only used for close friends and family. Prosím (proseem) means please and here's the really fun one: thank you is děkuji. I still have to Google Translate this one to get the spelling. The first time I looked this up I listened to it a million times, but could not say it. The thing with děkuji is that every person in the Czech Republic has his or her own way of pronouncing it. When I first got here and heard everyone pronouncing this word, I thought there were 14 different ways to say thank you, but in reality, they are all the same word. I've adapted to saying you-kwee or yicky, but the ways of pronouncing it are endless. The "d" is silent, by the way, and "j" sounds like a y. At this point I don't ask why, I just try to accept.

Lastly, and most importantly, about a week ago I learned how to say "I don't speak Czech" in Czech. This is probably an oxymoron, because by saying this, I am indeed capable of speaking some Czech. I have had at least half a dozen people come up to me and ask me for directions, even when my headphones are in, to whom I have stared, removed my earplugs, and said slowly, in English, "I'm sorry, I don't speak Czech." I must look Czech to them, which is a major contrast to Spain, where people rarely asked me for directions because one glance was enough to tell them that I am not a native. This is some annoying irony because I can actually speak Spanish and, believe it or not, give directions, at least around Granada, where I have spent so much time, yet in the country where people do ask me directions, I can't speak the language. Store clerks and train ticket-checkers often say something to me, and I don't like smiling and shaking my head in a confused manner. So I decided to learn how to say: nemluvím česky (pronounced neh mloo veem chesky). After meeting a nice Czech girl who told me how to pronounce it correctly, I can now say it, um, decently, although far from like a native.

Knowing how to say this has been one of the best decisions I have made in this country. Czech people really appreciate when I speak their language, albeit a very pathetic and conversation-ending phrase. Instead of trying to decipher my English "I don't speak Czech," they know right away that I am a foreigner and don't have to waste time trying to figure out why I can't seem to communicate with them like a normal Czech person. For example, the ticket-checker on the train today said something to me, and I told her this phrase. She smiled, said something that was probably the Czech equivalent of okay, and left me alone.

I think I've hit the plateau of my Czech knowledge. I still need to learn good night and goodbye, but I'm in no rush. However, today I learned 6 new Spanish words from a Spanish newspaper. In conclusion, bilingual is just fine for me.

Chimney Man

The other day something happened that has made me reflect and appreciate life a bit more. My boyfriend and I were sitting on the Prague subway chatting in Spanish and there was a man who seemed to be a manual laborer, perhaps even a hobo, with a gray one-piece suit on. As is par for the course, we had lost track of what stop we were at and started wondering out loud in English where exactly we were. Well, this man was sitting next to us and I could tell during the conversation that he was interested in what we were saying. He jumped into our conversation and told us in some broken English that the stop we were looking for hadn't arrived yet. He asked if we didn't mind, could we tell him what language we were speaking before we switched to English. We said Spanish, and he seemed satisfied with the answer. He said, "I make chimney man" which I quickly corrected (must be my inner English teacher) to be that he is a chimney man, ahem, worker.

Something like this, minus the hat

Normally, it seems that the Czech people that speak English work in higher paying jobs than the chimney sector. This made me think about how this man knew English...perhaps he learned it in school, perhaps he needs to speak it with his customers, or perhaps he has an interest in English and has managed to pick up some of the language himself. I feel bad for him though - it seems that he is a bit stuck in his job. Is he happy being a chimney man? Can he work in another job if he wants to? He speaks some English, so could he move to an English-speaking country if he wanted to, to work? I assume that being a chimney man does not pay very well, and I ask myself what options he has in his life.

All of which makes me grateful for the options that I have in my life, for the fact that I have flexibility in where I live and in what I do. Who knows, maybe he is happy "making chimney man" in his life and wouldn't trade it for all the jobs in English in the world. I shouldn't push my thoughts into his head. His head is not mine, and after all, we probably think differently.

Prague in Pictures

Ever wanted to see Prague without actually having to move from your couch? I decided to make the effort and do it for you. You're welcome.

Wenceslas Square

Oh good, McDonald's has reached Prague. I was worried there for a minute.

A cathedral, I'm still working on learning names...

Apparently people get married on Tuesdays in Prague

Old Town Square

Horses in Old Town Square

Um, statues in Old Town Square

What appears to be a cathedral

A nice summer market

A bridge

Meat

???

The following pictures are views from Charles Bridge on a beautiful, 70 (ahem, 21 degrees Celsius) degree Saturday afternoon.

The entrance from a distance

The entrance close up

I heard more English on this bridge than I've heard in my whole time here in Prague

Someone's beautiful balcony garden

Adorable river-side café where I want to eat. One day...

Looks like Venice!

I really think the hot air balloon adds so much to this picture

The other end of the Charles Bridge

Ok, you just virtually crossed the Charles Bridge. Congratulations! Now, no more vistas from the Charles Bridge. Just of the bridge :)

A park near Charles Bridge

So green!

View of the Charles Bridge

Again

A plaza off of Charles Bridge

Another bridge

A restaurant's menu at the entrance of Charles Bridge. I'll pass. And what's pork knuckle? That can't be too tender.

Malostranksa Square

Well, that's Prague in a nutshell! Once I discover more of the city I will have a lot of other exciting pictures, but these are the really popular, touristy sights of the city. Enjoy!

How do you say "FML" in Czech?

Adjustment to life in Prague has been smooth, for the most part, with the exceptions of some turbulent bumps. I needed to register in the Foreign Police office, as I am a foreigner. In the first meeting with my new boss, she told me to go register myself and that the people in the office would speak a bit of English. I went straight from my meeting with her to the Foreign Police office. As soon as I entered I had a feeling that something was not going to go right. First of all, I had an inkling that the 65 year old, obese man behind the "Informace" (Information) desk where I got in line just might not know any English. I waited in line to speak to him, and lo and behold, English, not so much. I handed him my passport and what my boss had written in Czech to get the point across of what it was I needed. He looked at my passport, smiled, and said American, eh? I only know this because American in Czech is americky, not too hard to figure out. He then went on to make what I can only imagine to be a snide comment, snickered, and handed me the passport back. He then said a few sentences in Czech, looked at me, and figured out I had not even the slightest clue what he just said. He then directed himself to the line and asked if anyone spoke English. Fortunately, a guy in the line did speak English and told me I needed to go to another office on a different floor than this office. He then proceeded to tell me the name of the office I was to go to, to which I pleaded he write down the horrendous, 57 syllable name of whatever office he just said. At that very moment, another worker at the office happened to pass by and the guy behind the counter asked her to show me where to go.

We walked to another building very close by, and at the door she signaled where I was to go and said everything in Czech, of course. The only reason I knew where to go was because the English speaking guy said 3rd floor, and this lady pointed to the left at the end of the hall. Using these clues, I made it with no problem to the actual Foreign Police office. I went to the computer that generated tickets. It was in English and Czech! This was a good sign; I relaxed. I figured out what I needed in English and printed the ticket, which was in Czech. I waited about 15 minutes and when they called me up I showed the lady my ticket and gave her my passport. She looked at them and then said things to me in Czech. As is my usual feeble response, I shrugged my shoulders and said "English?" She gave my passport back to me and the only English she then said was "You must speak Czech." After a moment of confusion, I asked if there was someone in the office who did speak English. She shook her head and said no. I was flabbergasted. This was the Foreign Police office. Surely they deal with English speaking immigrants on a daily basis, and no one in the office speaks English???

Before arriving to the Czech Republic, if I had to guess one place in the whole country that would speak English, I would guess the Foreign Office in the capital, A.K.A. Prague. After living here for a few days, I can now tell you that your best bet for English is the bank, pharmacy, and post office. The places where I would expect some level of English, like the Foreign Police office and the ticket booth for public transportation, are a bit lacking.

Anyway, all's well that ends well. Lesson learned. I came to Prague for excitement, right? Well, excitement I got!

Arrival to Prague

I’m in Prague! It’s been a stressful journey because Prague does not feel anything like home to me. In the past when I have crossed the Atlantic it has been to go to England to visit my family or to Spain to visit my boyfriend, and in both locations I always feel very comfortable and can speak the language. However, in the Czech Republic, I know no one, do not speak the language, and, well, do I need any more reasons?? However, Prague definitely has its redeeming qualities. Firstly, my boyfriend is also moving to Prague, and he is my main motivation for moving here. Secondly, I have attained a job teaching English, which is something I have always wanted to do after graduating from college. Thirdly, I have heard nothing but wonderful things about Prague. I have talked to a handful of people who have visited, studied, or worked in Prague, and all have told me that they are just so incredibly jealous of me and will just have to come visit me while I’m there. So, I figured I can’t go wrong by moving to a city that all its visitors want to return to. According to them, and I will be confirming or rejecting this in a future entry according to my judgments, it is a beautiful, inexpensive city with incredible architecture, great nightlife, and fabulous public transportation. What can beat that? So making the decision to come here wasn’t much of a difficulty.

The major inconvenience for me in the Czech Republic is the language. I'm going to try not to be blatantly ethnocentric, but everything is in Czech! What is that about? I realize that it is the Czech Republic, and there is English occasionally on signs, like in the subway. But unless the food is an English brand, food in the supermarket is in Czech, so I spend a great deal of time eying food and reading Czech nutritional facts. So far I've learned fiber, calcium, fat, and protein. I'd translate them here but I've forgotten them already.

You knew there'd be a picture of milk in my blog. Notice there is nothing about skim, semi-skimmed, or anything. And the words in Czech on the front are not related to the fat content. I figured out that you need to look on the top of the carton for a percentage, A.K.A. fat content. Duly noted.


And here is the cereal I buy, with clear directions on the complex process of pouring cereal into a bowl, followed by the milk. The words above the picture say "Instructions for Preparation."

Oh, one more important thing to mention about the Czech Republic: the diet. As you’ll know from previous entries, it’s safe to say that I am a relatively picky eater, and do not eat meat or foods loaded with empty calories, generally. According to Lonely Planet’s guide book to Prague, the Czech diet is a “cardiologist’s nightmare.” Meat, dumplings, meat, goulash, fried cheese, wilted lettuce, with a side of meat. I have, however, read up on some vegetarian restaurants that I will be patronizing with frequency. But anyway, maybe this is a sign that I should start sharpening up my culinary skills and actually step foot into the kitchen to do something other than looking for snacks. Looks like it’s going to be a lot of boiled veggies and whole grain rice for a while.

Change of Scenery

I love the USA, I really do. I think it has a lot of great qualities, and it will always be my home first and foremost. The more I compare America and Europe, the more I think about how different they are. I am very happy in both places, but when I compare them, I start to see imperfections in America that I never noticed before. Until I studied in Spain when I was 20 years old, I thought America was perfect. I was quite happy with where my life was headed – I was an undergraduate student studying Spanish and enjoying college life. However, once I moved across the pond and started thinking beyond what new drink I would try at the bar next weekend, I realized that America has some serious flaws. For example, 45 million people are without health care because they can’t afford it. Another example – many Americans cannot afford to go to college, and thus do not attain an education level higher than high school and cannot make as much money as their more competitive peers who went to college and graduate school. These problems do not exist to nearly the same extent in Europe; there is more equality. I believe that America is oftentimes too capitalistic and inward looking, and has forgotten to care for the poor and hungry, or whatever shpeel the Statue of Liberty says. Life in the USA is not as good for many Americans as it was for me, and this bothers me. I want everyone living in America to live well, because that, to me, defines a perfect country.

So, I no longer believe America is better than any other country. It has some major flaws that could quite easily be worked out, if it weren’t for that obstacle we call politics. But don’t worry! I will still constantly be comparing America to other countries I learn about, more specifically, the Czech Republic, in the entries that follow. Why? Because I have moved to Prague! Read on for more details.

Trash Issues

Europe is great. Seriously. I love most things about it. There’s just one thing that keeps sticking out to me as slightly inconvenient: tiny trash bins. Why? Why are they so small? England, Spain, and now the Czech Republic all seem to have small trash bins in the houses. If they were bigger, it would not be necessary to empty them so often. However, they are very small, and I don’t know if this is just an optical illusion, but seem to be full a good 90% of the time, and thus need taking out way too often. Do Europeans just not mind taking out the trash? Perhaps they are just innately less lazy than Americans, who generally believe that having to take the trash out more than once or twice a week is a crime to humanity.

Trash, plastic recycling, and paper recycling in my apartment in Spain

Trash in Czech Republic apartment

That’s my rant of the week. Or, at least for the day.

Napkins: Less is Not More

Napkins in Spain are...different. In bars, at least. Bars in Spain, or at least in the southern part of the country, serve food with drinks, and thus there are always plenty of napkins around. However, they are about as useful as using a sheet of wax paper to wipe my mouth. Actually, I am convinced that they have a wax coating, because they are always so pretty and shiny. And they always thank me for patronizing their bar, how very polite.

I can see my reflection!

As there is always a huge supply of these napkins in bars, I never feel bad using many of them, as 8 of them use about as much paper as one normal napkin. Oh, and bonus! These napkins serve as toilet paper for women in bars, as there is never toilet paper in the bathrooms in bars and thus these napkins are the next best thing.

The Great English Migration

Well, I've made a fun little observation about English people. And while I can't bash them too badly, because I am 50% English, I must comment that they are a strange race. They are rather sun deprived, because England tends to be cloudy and rainy. They do have completely sunny days, but they are far and few between. As a result, many English people like to head to the beaches in Spain for a quick sun bathe. I noticed this phenomenon when I myself was making this same trip, except I started in Spain and flew to England to visit my grandmother. The route is Leeds to Málaga, and it is flown very cheaply by Ryanair, a low cost European airline. This route is flown almost entirely by English people. Thus, English people will dig out their long-lost swim suits and make a nice weekend out of the southern coast of Spain. However, they are a bit over eager and end up soaking up too much sun. It's funny how if a culture does not have enough of something, they make sure to take full advantage of it when they have the opportunity.

Too much of a good thing

This is a picture of English people waiting in line to check into their Ryanair flight back to Leeds, where they can pick their sun blisters in peace.

Gooooooooaaaaaalllllll!!!!!!!!!

Spain brings home the gold for the first time in history

Well, living in Spain during the World Cup is important, despite the fact that I came over here without the slightest clue that the World Cup was happening, and without really knowing what it is. As I now know, and most of your reading this already know, it's basically the Olympics of soccer. I think.

Spaniards here get really really really excited about soccer. It's Spain's main sport, without a doubt. Americans have football, basketball, and baseball, and of course golf, tennis, soccer, hockey, etc. But for Spaniards, it doesn't get any better than soccer.

It's like the rainbow threw up red and yellow everywhere

When I watch a soccer game with my boyfriend and his friends, as soon as I step into the room my face gets painted with the colors of the Spanish flag (red and yellow) and loud, obnoxious noise-making balloons are thrust into my hands. The environment is pretty similar to what one experiences at an American sport event. Everyone will go to a bar to see the game or to someone's house, pass around the potato chips and beer, and chaos ensues.

Soccer isn't my favorite sport, I've always been more of a basketball fan because, uh, points are actually scored, but for me, at least half the entertainment of watching a soccer game is watching the Spaniards watch the soccer game: yelling profanities at the players of the opposing teams, jumping up and down and shrieking as loud as their vocal chords will allow them when Spain scores, muttering "ooooh-eeeeee" when the opposing team almost scores a goal, and falling to their knees 3 inches in front of the television screen when Spain is attempting to score a goal and pleading, "For your mother!!! Get it in the goal for your mother!!!" I mean, you can't buy live entertainment like that.


In America, many people fly the American flag on their houses and apartments, and no one thinks twice about it. In Spain, if you spot a Spanish flag waving outside a place of residence, you can count on that residence being big Franco (former dictator of Spain from 1939 - 1975) supporters, a.k.a., possibly fascist. However, during the World Cup, all bets are off; everyone waves their flag proudly so that there is no doubt which soccer team they are supporting.

World Cup season: the one time every four years when waving the Spanish flag outside your home doesn't scream "I love fascism!"

I was in a small village in Spain when Spain won the World Cup. This was a HUGE moment for Spain. Soccer started doing the World Cup in 1930, and it takes place every four years, and Spain has never won. Brazil, Germany, and Argentina have won most of the recent World Cups.

Red and yellow everywhere

So, needless to say, Spain partied long and hard to celebrate the event. It was amazing, a unique experience that I will probably never have again. I'm not Spanish, but I felt Spanish that night! The people were so united and happy, it's amazing how a sport can bring a nation together. Cars were driving in the street, honking like there is no tomorrow, people screaming and waving their Spanish flags, and of course, the obnoxious-beyond-belief vuvuzelas, the South African plastic blow horn. It's a great way to make noise, but then again, it's also a great way to lose your hearing at a young age.

I'm wearing earplugs the next time Spain wins the World Cup in South Africa