Cultural Landmarks

Saturday, July 30

On my first day back in Spain, I wanted to take it pretty easy, but there were some definite necessities to be filled.

As I was hungry and I’m trying to go the cheap/easy route and get sandwich materials and eat on the go, I had to find a supermarket of some kind.

Luckily, my hostel has interent, so I jumped online and Googled the nearest ones. There were some about five blocks away, up a street off of Puerta del Sol. Knowing they wouldn’t be too hard to find, I set off.

And when I got to Peurta del Sol, I remembered a very exciting fact. There is an El Corte Ingles right by there. El Corte Ingles is like every chain store mixed together in the world. And they have a supermarket.

Jackpot.

Not having ever fully explored an El Corte Ingles, I took my time to go to every single floor before heading to the supermercado in the basement.

There were seven floors.

El Corte Ingles is not kidding around.

The store had everything from a makeup and beauty section, sportswear, swimwear, children’s clothes, a souvenir shop, two restaurants, a bridal boutique, a tailor on the same floor as men’s suits, juniors’ sections, electronics, and a bookstore. I’m telling you, you’ve never seen anything like this.

I’m thinking world’s most epic game of hide and seek.

Then I headed to the grocery store downstairs, after spending more than an hour just exploring. I got some of the essentials like water and granola bars, and then all of the stuff I needed to have sandwiches and chips at my disposal. The hostel gives me breakfast, and I’m also planning on taking some of the fresh fruit provided there to supplement.

Now officially starving, I hauled my bags back to the hostel and threw myself together a sandwich. I really am going to miss the fresh bread and chorizo here, it’s all just so authentic and delicious. Even though it was from a supermarket, it was still baked and carved right there. You don’t get that in America, especially not on a college-student budget.

After eating I was kind of restless, but I also didn’t want to explore too far away and not be back before dark. So I grabbed my book and headed down a random street in search of a café.

I found a place with some nice open-air tables off of a big street, and sat down to read and watch the world go by. Without even realizing it, I sat there for two whole hours. At one point, the 8 o’clock hour hit, and the hotel across the street had a funny little display of these wooden Spanish characters for the hour mark. 

It was really cute. Everyone applauded when it was over.

At one point in my two hours, I looked up the street to realize that the sun was setting. As I looked up, the sun was just beginning to dip below a building in the distance, and it was shining so that, even though I was looking directly at the sun, the light was above my head. It was one of those beautiful moments where you’re actually looking underneath the setting sun, and it was very peaceful.

I set my book down and just watched the sun sink lower behind the building for a few minutes, not really thinking about anything or focusing on any one image except how beautiful the sunset was.

Call me silly, but it was a profound moment for its simplicity.

Eventually I decide that a setting sun meant I should get going, and I headed back up the hill toward my hostel.

At around 10p.m. I went down to the lobby because they have free Sangria every night, and a cold drink sounded perfect in the Madrid heat.

When I got down there, I met this incredibly interesting man named Jorge. He’s from Colombia, he’s here with his new wife, and he was eager to practice his English (by which I mean he was overly talkative). Jorge mostly just talked about traveling and visiting new places, but at one point he stops me and points to all of the people sitting in the lobby.

Do you know what brings all of these people together? He asked.

Free Sangria, I oh-so-sarcastically replied. (FYI Hispanic people don’t get American sarcasm, oops!)

He just kind of looks at me and then launches into this speech about each of these people looking for something, that everyone was here with a purpose and a story and family and friends who cared about them and wondered how they were doing. That each of them had chosen these dates and this hostel with care, but yet didn’t care why anyone else had.

It was a very rare notion. I hadn’t given a lot of thought to everyone else sitting in that room, most of them using wifi, just like me. How many of them were college students? How many were using that wifi to talk to family or friends from back home? Are any of them keeping a blog similar to mine?

For the most part, I’ll never know, but it was an eye-opener to have someone ask you that, to blatantly point out that I don’t know what brings all of my companions here.

Perhaps I’ll make it a mission tomorrow to make a new friend or two and find out exactly what their story is, despite being in the final chapters of my own tale. 

Traveling To and Fro

Saturday, July 30

You have your choice of ways to travel in Spain.

As a foreigner, I am still able to rent a car, take a train, ride a bus, or really use any form of transportation.

So in heading back to Madrid I had two main choices (cars are out for me, scary enough when I’m regularly driving, let alone in a foreign country). I took the train up to Oviedo, so ultimately I decided to try out the bus since it was a new experience and it was cheaper.

It was a toss up either way.

Luckily I turned out pretty well. The bus right was supposed to be 5 hours, with a stop half way at a small gas station with a café for both the bus and the patrons to refill.

For the first half of the trip, I was one of only two people who got to sit by themselves. I don’t know how that happened, but I made the most of my two seats, stretching out, leaning against the window, falling asleep for a bit, reading, and generally enjoying the ride.

It was actually much more pleasant than the train, and I would recommend bus travel (in Spain, no guarantees on Greyhound in the US).

We got out halfway, and although I didn’t realize it was a bus station, apparently it was enough of one that my ride-buddy joined us for the second half. He was nice enough, but a little odd and talkative (Talkative Spaniards are an interesting blessing/curse. You learn a lot, you get overwhelmed quickly.). Overall, he was not a bad partner, I just longed for my double seat back.

And then, in typical Spanish fashion, our bus that was supposed to arrive at 1:15 in Madrid arrived at 3p.m. instead. Typical, but annoying.

And then, because I couldn’t figure out the metro system at the bus station because it’s on a separate line, I ended up paying for a taxi.

Traveling from Oviedo to Madrid wasn’t quite like the trip before. This time, I recognized some of the landmarks, I was more awake for the ride, and I could tell as we approached the city.

It got even more exciting in the cab ride, as I started recognizing landmarks: a church we had been too, a park we had walked in, the train station we had thought we were going to until we caught our mistake only a few hours before. It all was familiar to me.

How surreal is that? How can I be familiar with Madrid?

But then, this trip has made me familiar with Oviedo like the back of my hand, is it really absurd to think I might develop some of that with Madrid as well? When I’m done, I will have been in Madrid for 8 total days of this trip, and that’s a lot of time to get familiar with a city.

And while I certainly won’t know the whole thing, I’m looking forward to being familiar with the area around Puerta del Sol. 

It’s nice to be back.

Goodbye Until Tomorrow

Friday, July 29

I can’t believe I’m leaving Oviedo tomorrow.

I can’t believe I officially finished classes today, including getting a diploma.

I can’t believe I’ve already said goodbye to friends from classes for the last time, and friends from Mizzou until next month.

I can’t believe a month of my life has flown so quickly that I don’t remember where all it’s gone.

I can’t believe I’m eating my last dinner with my host mom tonight.

Overall, I just can’t believe how the time as flown. Wasn’t I just arriving and trying to get a feel for my host mom and classes and Oviedo and all of it? And now it’s over.

There are so many things I’m excited to go back for: my family and friends, getting to see my dogs, training starting next Saturday, new residents, playing with my dogs, RHA for this year, getting my toe fixed, hugging my dogs, and all of it.

But there are so many things I’ll miss here as well: hanging out in the parks around Oviedo, coca-cola light, maxibon cookies, laughing to myself every block because there’s always a new grocery store, the view from my window, the beautiful sights of Oviedo, Spanish people and their good-natured, too-relaxed, deadlines-schmedlines attitudes, and all of the rest.

So the title of this blog is a lyric from a good song. The lyrics are a great summary of how I’ve been feeling today. The song goes: “Goodbye until tomorrow, goodbye until the rest of my life, I have been waiting, I have been waiting for you.”

I have been waiting for this experience all of my life, and now that it’s over, I know it isn’t really over. The reality is that it’s only goodbye until I figure out how to come back, until I spend more time here, until I travel again.

So Oviedo, goodbye, and thanks for the wonderful memories, the new friends, and the summer of my life. 

Finally Finals

Thursday, July 28

The amount of work we’ve had here has not been overwhelming by any means (previous post excluded). We’ve had a little to do each day, but it was all very simple to get done and still have plenty of time to experience Oviedo and Spanish culture.

But nonetheless, coming out of finals and knowing all of the studying was over was such a releasing feeling.

It’s strange how sometimes you don’t even realize you’re worried about something until it’s over and the tension lifts from your shoulders, you crack the first smile of the day, and you just kind of feeling like running down the stairs and out the door.

My two finals for the day were not that bad, both were exactly as I’d predicted they’d be, which is comforting. And we’ll see grades tomorrow, so the quick turn-around will be great.

As an end-of-the-trip celebration, Professor Zemke took all of the Mizzou students out to lunch at a small restaurant up by the main shopping district. Not having really eaten out here, since eating dinner is so different, it was fun to sit through a Spanish lunch.

We got a choice of soup or salad and then of chicken or fish. My whole table chose both salad and chicken (so much for trying each others!) and the salads were deliciously colorful. It had everything from tomatoes and carrots that you’d expect, to radishes and tuna (I gave mine up) and an egg that are a little different, to the distinctly Spanish potato included on top.

The chicken was served family-style, fell straight off the bone, and was sensational. It came cooked together with potatoes and peppers, and the whole meal was just delicious.

Finally, we got our choice of chocolate cake of cheesecake for dessert. Since everyone else around my table chose chocolate, I went for the cheesecake, and got to share bites since everyone wanted to try mine. They were both delicious, though it was a little thin for cheesecake.

And apparently all of that extravagance is just a typical lunch!

Afterwards, Maddy and Craig and I walked around Oviedo on the South end, past the Cathedral. It’s an old and very beautiful part of town that none of us had yet explored. We ended up walking in a giant circle and found Campo San Francisco (the big park in town) in the end.

We, naturally, chose to go play on the playground equipment! In doing so, we discovered that there was a whole section of “exercise equipment” in the park. It was hilarious as we played around on these incredibly odd machines that didn’t feel like they did anything to work out your body.

The “abs machine” was a circle that you held onto while standing on a rotating disk and twisted back and forth. We all jumped on and spun around for a while and just laughed and had fun. That is, until some woman actually began using the other equipment and we felt like we should probably stop disturbing the peace.

We all headed home and got ready, and then went out for our last night in Oviedo, since people start leaving tomorrow. It was a happy, yet slightly bittersweet evening as we all made the most of our last evening together.

A Walk in the Park

Wednesday, July 27

The title of this blog is a joke, and not a very good one at that.

Being that today is the final day before our exams, I knew going in that I had a lot of studying to do. But then, in the last minutes of our Hispanic Poetry class, Professor Zemke informs us that we have to turn in written analysis from every one of the poems we did in the last two weeks.

And while he had told us to do them originally, he had made it clear to several people that he didn’t intend for him to read them and that they were our notes.

Or so we thought.

So on top of studying for two exams, I now had exactly 18 1-page poetry write-ups to do in the next 24 hours.

So after lunch, I took my book and headed to the park that’s just down the street. (Hence the walk in the park thing…) It was an incredibly unsuccessful trip; I think I got one whole analysis done. Instead I spent the time talking with Maddy and Matilda, soaking up some Spanish sun, and enjoying being outside.

No regrets, but my walk in the park certainly made the rest of my evening no walk in the park.

 At around 9 p.m., after I’ve finished 8 of the 18 write-ups, I realized that I desperately needed internet to be able to understand one of the poems. So I gathered my stuff together and hauled it over to the mall, where I’ve gotten internet access.

But then, when I log on, I run into a very pleasant problem on Facebook. Turns out, one of my best friends got engaged!

I was so happy for her, and still am (MY CONGRATS TO LINDSEY AND BRETT!!), but it was also bittersweet because I couldn’t be there to congratulate her and celebrate with them and be excited.

Luckily she was online, so I was able to chat with her via Facebook for a few minutes and I got filled in on the details. But then she asked me where I would be next August, when they’re planning on having the wedding.

And the real, kind of terrifying answer is that I don’t know.

I have no idea where I’ll be in a year. There are about 10 possibilities for what I want to do after I graduate, I have no idea which ones I will be accepted to or denied from, I can’t say where I’ll be living, and more than half of these options would make it impossible for me to attend her wedding.

And as I explained to Lindsey, I’ll try my best to be there, but I can’t make life decisions with things like that in mind. I realize that if I want to spend the next ten years or so of my life traveling and experiencing a variety of countries, foods, customs, jobs, cities, and people, then I’m probably going to miss out on a lot with the people I love back home.

Missing her engagement was only a small slice of that feeling, but it has made me realize that I have to embrace the reality of living far away.

And then I realized that I still had a mountain of homework and studying awaiting me, so I raced back home and got to work!

It Hurts So Good Part 2

Tuesday, July 26

Spain has not been easy on my body.

Take the two most recent complaints added to the list: I officially destroyed my toenail on my big toe, left foot, and I am sun burnt to bejesus and peeling like an orange.

As both of these things are remnants of my fantastic birthday, I really can’t complain, but it does kind of suck keeping my toe wrapped all of the time. Especially when I have two pairs of shoes here with straps around the big toe.

Luckily, I’ve been able to get an appointment at home to get the toe taken care of (sounds like Mafia-style business, and it just might be that serious).

Thank goodness for my mom on this trip, she has been making all of these phone calls for me, running errands to get me ready to go back to school, and just basically keeping my American life going while I’m enjoying my Spanish one. 

Ten Paz

Sunday, July 24

I don’t really make a secret of the fact that I’m no longer a very religious person, but today I made an effort to go to church at the Cathedral in Oviedo, and it was probably one of the highlights of my trip.

There are a few things I’ve always loved about Catholicism in particular - the ritual of the weekly service and how much of it stays the same, making it possible for everyone to follow along; the power of knowing that a billion people across the world are being read the same passage as you that day; the smell of the prayer candles in the back; and the music. The music is what brought me to church every Sunday.

Each of those things made my experience today really wonderful as well, but I think what did it for me was the people. The Cathedral in Oviedo is huge - it’s a town of 200,000 and the capital of its province, so naturally it’s a large place. But there were probably only about 75 people sitting through our service and all of the Spaniards were singing along to the mass (they didn’t have a hymnal, otherwise you bet I would’ve joined right in), enjoying themselves, greeting each other across the aisle, and then shaking hands at the “peace be with you” part.

And when we got to that part, the man in the row in front of us turned around, shook my hand and said “ten paz” or “have peace,” which I promptly repeated back to him.

The beauty of it - to me - was that he knew nothing about me. He didn’t know he was shaking hands with an American, or that I had to mentally translate that phrase before repeating it, or that I’m not sure how I felt about the sermon, or that I haven’t been to church since I started college. He just wanted to offer his hand in fellowship, and it was kind of perfect to experience.

Probably no one will understand what I’m trying to say here, or why that trip to the Cathedral was so wonderful for me, but it really was. And I’m not saying I’ve had some magical conversion that will send me back to church every Sunday.

But I think most of the beauty came from the unity of it. Like I said, I’ve always been struck by the power and magnitude of the idea that a billion Catholics here the same readings each week, and I had the opportunity to witness a chunk of that first hand. That mass was in Spanish, those people wouldn’t understand a thing that was said in my church, but we all still receive the same message and repeated the same basic phrases in our own language, we all still sang hymns, and we all still walked away feeling a little elated and brighter and ready to tackle the day. 

Feliz Cumpleaños

Saturday, July 23

Birthdays are always weird experiences for me, mostly because I always feel so old by the time I hit a birthday, that it’s just natural to already be calling myself that age. Since almost all of my friends are older than me by several months, I feel like I’m constantly playing catch-up.

But turning 20 wasn’t really like that, because everyone here is a variety of ages and I’m not the youngest by any means. Everyone was just happy for me, super nice, and a little jealous that I got to spend my birthday in Spain (even I can’t believe how awesome that is).

So today I spent my birthday doing things that I love: first and foremost, I slept in (granted I got in late, so 11:15 wasn’t actually a lot of sleep, despite the lateness of hour), then I went and sat on a beach all day, and finally I went home and had a wonderfully quiet night in where I just sat and read.

And despite the fact that I got burnt to a crisp, it was still just a lovely day and a great way to spend turning 20.

While it might seem weird to enjoy staying home alone on the night of my birthday, it was actually very peaceful. I’ve always actively disliked being on vacation on my birthday (I’ve protested it several times before to no avail), but since living in Oviedo doesn’t feel like vacation, coming back to the apartment and just being lazy and relaxed was plenty to allow me to enjoy the day.

And of course, another reason to celebrate would be that turning 20 officially means escaping teenage pregnancy! I’m so proud!

Puttin’ On My Dancin’ Shoes

Friday, July 22

Shopping in Oviedo has been an adventure.

There are good reasons for that, such as the fact that it’s rebajas (month of sales!) or that the styles are different and things sometimes make me laugh that they’re even in stores.

And then there are bad reasons; such as the fact that sometimes you’ll love a skirt and then pick it up and realize it’s a pair of hideous goucho-esque pantaloons that are so popular here or the fact that Spaniards really don’t have clothes for the bigger gals.

So I knew going shopping on Friday in anticipation of my birthday could potentially be disastrous, but we decided to hit up the one mall in town we hadn’t been to and try it out.

The mall is literally all the way across town from where I live, and I’m not sure exactly, but it was about a 35 minute walk, so that’s got to translate to close to two miles.

Oddly, this mall is also the Congress building (Capitalism at it’s best?) and is shaped like a giant spaceship and/or the Sydney Opera House.

This is what the aliens did post-pyramids.

Luckily, I managed to find a really flattering full-length black cotton dress, I borrowed a necklace, and I bought/might be selling to Matilda a pair of wedges that are really cute.

So for my birthday, about six of us went out to dinner at this little café on some side street that we found, and then we went to Gascona (a district of town that is famous for it’s Sidra) and got a table and chilled and relaxed until nighttime got started and we hit up a couple of bars and met up with other people from the program.

To understand how nightlife works in Spain, here’s the timeline for all that:

Dinner - met at 9, walked around, ate at 9:45

Drinks in Gascona - 11:15 to midnight

Bars begin to open - Midnight, sometimes later

Spaniards return home - 5 or 6 a.m.

We didn’t make it quite the whole night like Spaniards, I believe we all made it home closer to 4:30, but that is by far and away the latest we’ve managed to stay out here.

And my birthday celebration was fantastic and full of people from our trip and good friends and fun and dancing.

Let’s just say, that nothing we did was illegal here! Overall, I think it’s going to be very high on my list of best birthdays of my lifetime!

A Routine Sort of Day

Thursday, July 21

The issue with keeping this blog is falling behind on days when nothing exciting really happens.

Today was a typical sort of day for me - I went to school, I ate lunch with my host mom, I siesta-ed, I went to the mall to use the internet for research for my paper, and then we went to have tapas and a drink later that night.

It was a great day; don’t get me wrong. But there was nothing really exceptional about it. And that is kind of cool on it’s own. Sure it’s taken three weeks, but I have enough of a routine here to have something I consider normal.

It’s odd how quickly you become accustomed to a place. It took me three weeks here to get to know Oviedo, and I remember that October of my freshman year was the first time I called Mizzou home.

We haven’t moved houses in my memory, since we moved to Petersburg when I was three, so I’ve had to discover some of this on my own, probably later in life than most people do, but I believe that you can be comfortable anywhere.

The most important things in life are people, and having friends and comfort and someone to talk to makes living anywhere bearable. And when it’s somewhere beautiful and full of life and culture like Oviedo, it’s easy to begin feeling at home. 

Alarm Clocks, Raw Eggs, and Cloudy Skies

Wednesday, July 20

One surprising factoid about my time here: I’ve been waking up the entire time without an alarm clock.

It’s oddly liberating to know that I don’t depend on a clock to get me out of bed, that I can depend on my body and the sun to know what time it is, and that for three weeks that planned worked without fail.

Until today. When I woke up and looked at the clock on my iPod:

9:19

And class starts at 9:30. I briefly considered doing the get-up-and-go version of events, mentally calculating that brushing my teeth, changing clothes, running a brush through my hair, and hustling to school could get me there no more than ten minutes late.

But then I also wouldn’t have eaten my breakfast, and my host mom would probably be both hurt and annoyed. (And I was tired, but I like to think the guilt was what kept me in my warm and comfortable bed.) So I made a command decision to eat breakfast, leave a note for my host mom, sleep in for another 45 minutes, and then get up and go to class after the mid-morning break.

Overall, not a horrible choice. I caught up quickly on the grammar I missed, and it shouldn’t be too big of a deal.

The only really negative side effect here would be the sickening lunch my host mom, who must’ve interpreted my behavior as real illness, made me to help me “feel better.”

In one bowl, I watch her mix chopped raw carrots, potatoes, and cauliflower along with some scallops. In another, she whisks oil, vinegar, salt, and a raw egg. And then she drizzled the mixture over the vegetables and served it to me.

In no way did I want to eat that. But I had made a resolution to myself before the trip, declaring that I would try anything once.

It was as disgusting as it sounds.

I swallowed two bites, and then told my host mom that I just couldn’t eat it. She repeated that it was supposed to help me feel better, and I apologized, explaining that it just wasn’t what I wanted, and I mentioned that we don’t eat raw eggs in the States.

But since what I actually said was more like ‘we don’t eat eggs unless we cook them first,’ my host mom interpreted that to mean that I wanted an omelet. Which she promptly made.

Overall, a ham omelet was not a bad outcome from an awkward situation.

Later in the day, we attempted to go to Gijon and go to the beach. It was lovely and warm in Oviedo, apparently not so in Gijon. I did get to sit on the beach and read for 45 minutes before we called it quits, but the day was still an adventure anyway.

And hopefully, we’re going to hit up the beach this weekend because the official trip was cancelled since not enough people wanted to pay the 60 euro it cost. I’d love to come home from this trip with a killer tan, and since I’ve only got two more weeks to make that happen, I need to get to the beach!

Spain Hurts So Good

Tuesday, July 19

Today I was just sitting in class, when I mindlessly let my hand fall down from the desk onto my leg. It was a perfectly natural thing to do, but the pain I felt when I did it was not.

And that’s when I realized; I have a giant bruise from jumping into the river on Sunday. I couldn’t get a picture that really does it justice, but this bruise is seriously bigger than my hand. And seriously, its way darker than I could get the flash to show!

Spain 101 - Do not break the plain of the water with your leg

Hey, I guess sometimes you win, and sometimes you lose. Does my leg hurt if I accidently touch it? Yes. Did it feel awesome to jump from that bridge? Hell yes. Did I feel like I conquered the world when I stood back on shore and looked up at my bridge? You bet.

Would I trade any moment of what I’ve experienced in Spain? Never.

A Latte Books

Monday, July 18

I’ve been reading a lot on this trip. I brought with me the Mizzou Reads book for the incoming freshman, which we’re required to read for ResLife, and I quickly finished that one, I think before we left Madrid. It’s called Zeitoun and it’s an interesting read about a man who stays in New Orleans through Katrina and the trials he faces as a Middle-Eastern immigrant in a city that is now chaotic. I recommend it.

Then I bought Pride & Prejudice in Madrid, and I zoomed through that with my usual hunger for that novel. Yes, it was in Spanish, but I know that book so well I didn’t even need a dictionary for the words I didn’t know. From memory, I could translate the rest of the phrase to English and insert the correct word. Obsessive? Yes. Convenient? Of course.

And then I discovered a drawer in my bedside table here full of trash novels. Not like smutty, harlequin romance trash, but one step above that. And all of them are in English. I can only assume my host mom has kept them from previous foreign exchange students (I know she’s had several, and there are other artifacts around).

So I started reading one of those last week. It was Husbands: Is One Ever Enough? by Adele Parks. A British woman is married and then discovers that her best friend’s new boyfriend is in fact her other husband from a run-away marriage after high school, and since she’s never technically divorced the one husband, she’s not really married to the new one. It’s trashy and tragic and fun. It was a good vacation read, but not exactly Oprah’s booklist.

And now I’ve started a second novel All We Ever Wanted Was Everything by Janelle Brown. The premise is that on the same day that this man’s company goes public and starts trading stock in the hundreds of millions of dollars, said man tells his wife he wants divorced. She starts doing hard drugs while her daughters, a $100,000 in-debt feminist journalist and the pregnant high school slut, try to sort out their own lives so they can help her. We’ll see where it goes, but I’m guessing it’s not on my must-buy list.

The point of this rampage about books, besides informing the blog about how I’m filling my down time, is that I have decided I enjoy being the traveler who reads.

Today I went to a cute little coffee shop a few blocks down from my apartment, ordered a caramel latte, and read.

The latte was insanely delicious.

But it was wonderful just to sit there, enjoy the people and food and sounds of Oviedo, and indulge in my book. Some people on my trip have told me that they can’t read while on vacation because they feel like they’re missing out. And while I can see that, it’s definitely not how I feel. To each his own.

So while it’s small, I really enjoy finding this nugget of information about myself. I enjoy it almost as much as I enjoy the pun in my title for this post. It makes me think “A Latte Books” should be an offbeat bookstore with a small coffee shop in the front and a dozen cozy chairs around a big fireplace. Sounds like my kind of place. 

Host Family Hurdles

Sunday, July 17

Today I had the pleasure of skyping (video chatting, if you’re not too technically inclined) with my Dad, and it was great to get to see him and talk with him. But he also asked me an important question - Is my relationship with my host mom stopping me from having a good time?

To get at why he asked me that, you’d have to understand a few things.

First, this weekend, as already noted, we had two different excursions. I thought I had made that clear to my host mom, and had made sure to ask her for two lunches, one for each day.

So when I got up Saturday morning and she had made me two sandwiches, I assumed it was because they were both small and from the ends of a loaf of bread  (sandwiches here are always on French-style bread, not the sliced stuff unless you’re poor or American) and not, in fact, that she thought I was going to be gone for two whole days.

But when I returned that evening, she wasn’t there. And while she’s not always in the house, she obviously makes it a point to be here if I’m going to be, especially around meal times, since she cooks all of the time. And her not being there at 6:30 didn’t alarm me. She has information from our program through the university, and that had said we weren’t supposed to get back until 8, so I just assumed I was early and she wasn’t back yet.

But when 9:30 had come and gone and she still hadn’t arrived, I had to face the realization that she assumed I wasn’t going to be there for dinner, and I began to piece together what had happened. I got dinner for myself out and about and then went out for the evening with friends from the trip. But I also made sure to make obvious signs that I had been there - I left my window open a little bit, I made my bed, I opened one of my wardrobe doors. And I also left a note, explaining that I wouldn’t need breakfast until 9:30 or so since we didn’t leave in the morning until 10.

Sure enough, when I get back, she was confused and surprised to see me. And then again in the morning, she brings up that she didn’t expect me and that my note confused her, and all of this. So I started to apologize, saying that it was a miscommunication, and leaving off with saying that I was sorry and it was my fault.

She says “Sí, sí es.” Or “Yes, yes it is.”

Ok, wow. So that’s blatantly rude, but I’m trying really hard to chalk it all up to cultural differences. I know in the US it’s normal to respond with something more like, no it’s ok, it happens, or whatever to be polite, but maybe that’s not the norm here. Okay. Fine. But then I asked her if she had made me a lunch, and she said she made me one yesterday. Lovely.

So I went on a 14K canoe trip, originally, without lunch. Luckily for me, my friends here are incredibly generous, I would’ve had more than enough to eat from their lunches and everything, but then we also were given sandwiches through the canoe company. It turned out well, so no harm done.

The next thing you have to understand is that I’m actually not very good at Spanish. Surprise. As I’ve self-discovered on this trip, I’ve come to the realization that my expressive skills - speaking and writing - are significantly better than my receptive skills - reading and listening. And while that’s not normal exactly for learners of this language, it’s pretty normal for my English abilities as well. (Hence the self-indulgent blog thing. I enjoy rambling.)

But having poor listening skills in Spanish makes understanding my host mom sometimes very difficult, and I often will only catch the idea of what she’s saying, not the details or the questions or the opinions. And when she asks me what I think about the news we’re watching, I’m often too busy trying to keep up to have formed any opinions.

A lot of the times, I think this leads her to give up on me for an afternoon or an evening and just speak around me, without really including me in the conversation. She talks to the TV and the characters on shows, she exclaims about the news, but she doesn’t always talk to me.

But then there are times when she is incredibly nice to me. She tries to include me in her life by telling me about her sons, she showed me a beautiful dress she was sewing for her daughter-in-law for a wedding she had to attend, she was understanding yesterday when I showed her that a wire has snapped in the light in my room, and that it no longer works and is hanging oddly from the ceiling. She said it wasn’t a big deal, that she doesn’t know how it could’ve happened, and was exceedingly sorry that I couldn’t use the light.

So I guess what I’m getting at here is that I’m kind of in a state of torn neutrality about my host mom. She’s kind and thoughtful, but also obviously dismayed by me and occasionally short tempered.

But is it making my trip worse?

I gave that one, even right away to my Dad, a resounding no.

While it might not be some heaven-sent fantastic life in a mansion with maids and butlers, I have a comfortable home with my own room, clean laundry once a week, and three home-cooked meals each day. Yeah, I had to think about the impact it’s having on my trip, which prompted me to write and get it all out. But while we might not have lovely conversations or anything, she obviously wishes me well and wants me to enjoy being here in Oviedo.

So it’s not perfect, life never is. But it’s comfortable and I’m making the most out of it. Come what may. 

Canoeing

Sunday, July 17

Today’s adventure was a 14K canoe trip! That’s about 8 miles, if you didn’t do the calculation, and every minute was beautiful.

We got to the landing area, and we were all handed wet suits. Never having worn one, the attire was half the adventure of the day! We wore wet suits, waterproof coats, and lifejackets (have I mentioned it’s cold in Northern Spain?), and we all got a big waterproof jug with our lunch and room for our stuff inside.

We all set off down river, and the trip before lunch was fantastic. The river was mostly calm, with only a few good patches of rocks and slight rapids to worry about. We stopped at a landing to eat our lunches and were dared to jump from the bridge over where we ate (completely safe, made to be jumped from!).

Despite the fact that I’m kind of a scared-y cat, I totally did it! I’m no judge of height, but it was definitely way more than 20 feet. Once someone from the trip puts pictures on Facebook, I’ll steal one and add it. I didn’t take my camera lest it get wet.

It was such a rush to jump into the water, despite the fact that it was freezing. I think it’s one of those things I could’ve only convinced myself to do in Spain. Why not take the risks and the excitements and doing everything possible while I’m here?

The second half of the trip, though still beautiful, was kind of exhausting. Maddy and I got stuck on a patch of rocks where there was a good current. And when I tried to get out to push us into deeper water, I lost a shoe!! It was chaotic and a little upsetting, not least because we couldn’t find it and I had to walk back to my apartment from the bus without shoes.

But it was just a pair of flip-flops, and I have tons of other shoes, so I’ll be fine. And hey, I have a history of losing shoes in water adventures, so par for the course!

Cavadonga and Los Lagos

Saturday, July 16

Spain is gorgeous.

Proof:

Today was our second weekend excursion, this one to Cavadonga and Los Lagos (the lakes). The entire trip was beautiful, but the lakes were so gorgeous and perfect that it’s hard to envision.

We took the treacherous journey up to the lakes in two tour buses. And navigating a one-lane country road with a steep upward slope and a sharp cliff down one side is not really fun in a large bus.

But we made it, despite the cows in the road trying to stop us:

And the lakes were 100% worth it. We climbed up the mountain path and hiked over there, and then we picnicked right near the water. It was such a perfect way to spend a day.

And then we drove back down the mountain and pulled, brakes squealing, into Cavedonga, which is also insanely beautiful. We went in the cathedral, only to find a wedding going on, and then we walked over to the old chapel that’s built into a cave in the hillside and has a waterfall underneath it.

Apparently, if you drink from the water in the natural fountain, you will be married within the year. Here’s Maddy trying:

After that, we made one more stop in another town, which wasn’t that exciting except for the promise of water and ice cream. All around, it was just a beautiful day full of what makes Asturias a beautiful province. 

Outsider

Friday, July 15

I began this day with the most wonderful of things - a cold.

And while I had allergies at the beginning of the trip, this is distinctly a cold. But I hauled my cookies out of bed and trudged off to school for yet another favorite of mine - a test.

I’m being overly dramatic, because really the test wasn’t too bad. I’ll know for sure when we get grades, but we only had to do 10 of the 15 sections of problems, so I feel like I got a better grade for choosing which to do and which not to mark.

And the day just got better, because we had a pretty great evening out. I’ve sort of developed a group of close friends here. Maddy, Matilda, Craig, Leanne, and I usually sit together on break from classes, hang out on excursions, and even go out at night.

Tonight, the five of us went and got drinks and then went to Harry Potter!

The movie was fantastic, and even though it was in Spanish, I still understood almost all of it. I won’t get HP nostalgic in my travel blog, but I will say that I refuse to say the whole thing is over until I’ve seen it in English, just to put off the inevitable.

Afterwards, we went to a bar for awhile with everyone from the program who went to HP, and then a few of us separated and went to the “American diner” while others went out. Peggy Sue’s is an interesting resemblance of 50s Americana, and the food was not at all American. It was too fresh and too real. But it was delicious, and fun.

Here’s a picture of Shelby and Emily, who went with me. Very sweet girls, and a lot of fun to hang out with!

I always wonder how much Chinese people must hate Chinese restaurants in America, because it’s such a sham of their culture. But being in that situation was just interesting and funny, not annoying or offensive at all. It was just a laugh to see the corny diner and to eat some good food, regardless of its authenticity.

Along those lines, there are very few times, but still some significant ones, when I feel like an outsider. When I’m carrying my backpack to the mall to use the internet, and while I’m sitting there using it, I get all sorts of odd looks and I know they’re assuming things about me. Or when I order at a restaurant or bar or pay in a shop, and they say “I speak English.” Part of me wants to shout back, “AND I SPEAK SPANISH, SO WHAT?” but the nicer, more filtered part of me appreciates that they’re just trying to help me and make me feel welcome.

When I’m walking back from school with Maddy and we’re chatting in English, and a little kid points and says something to his mom, it’s an odd sensation. I know he’s not being rude, and I’m not annoyed. It’s just sensational to be in that position, to be the one speaking a foreign language, and to be the object of that little boys imagination as he wonders what country we’re from and what we’re doing here. I know I was always that kid, it’s just fun to see the tables turn.

Playing Catch Up

Thursday, July 14

Despite my original resolution to write a minimum of one blog entry per day while in Spain, I have fallen ever so slightly by the wayside. As such, this entry is going to serve as a catch-all for Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.

I’m not sure exactly what has made me so busy and tired in the last handful of days. School has progressed quickly through our second week, bringing new homework and more poetry analysis for my Hispanic Lit class, and an upcoming test tomorrow. 

And then we’ve also done a lot outside of school. We went out to a bar for free tapas on Tuesday, which was great. I can’t remember if I’ve explained this, but tapas are basically just appetizers. I did learn a cool fact - tapas got their name because the Spanish would originally put a slice of bread over their wine so the flies couldn’t get in and ruin it. The “topped” their wine, calling it “tapas” and then eventually it became a thing of it’s own.

Then Maddy, Matlida, and I went shopping on Wednesday. In Oviedo, there’s one main shopping district down a street, Calle Uria. We made our way down through the shops, each trying on some ridiculous and some serious things, and the only purchase I made was a nice khaki coat that was on sale. It’s been colder here than my wardrobe was prepared for, so the purchase was well warranted.

July and August in Spain are “rebajas” which literally translates to rebates, but really means fantastic SALES! Every store, in the entire country, lowers their prices by 20% or 30%, some even put up racks of great clothes and bags and shoes for more than 50 or 75% off. Travel tip - if you’re a shopper and you want to come to Spain - do it in July!

And then today I spent some much needed time with internet. My breaks between internet are getting longer, which is great because it means I’m filling my time with more Oviedo and less America, but it also isn’t always fun to miss out. I haven’t talked to many friends, have yet to skype my family, and have been abusively neglecting my blog (as discussed!).

But half of the reason the internet situation was getting desperate is because I’ve also been doing a lot of working getting ready for school in the fall. My flight home is on August 3, and I don’t get back until almost midnight, so I literally have just Thursday and Friday of that week at home before I have to go back to school.

Hopefully I’ll be able to use that time to see family and friends, and maybe even make my parents an Asturian meal (I’m thinking chorizo pasta and tortilla españa for sure). And while it’ll be nice to have a few days home, it leaves me little to no time to prepare for school and my jobs there. But hopefully I’ve caught myself up a bit and can get back into Oviedo and all of the great things to do here!

Americanisms

Monday, July 11

My trip lasts for exactly 5 weeks, or 35 days. And already, I have spent 12 days in Spain.

Where has that time gone?

The days in Madrid flew by because they seemed so transitive and temporary. I knew that I only had a couple of days there. And then the days here in Oviedo go so quickly because we do so much every day. We have 5 hours of class and then the day really gets started. Already, life here has so much routine to it that it’s weird to imagine that I don’t even have three full weeks left.

There are things I already know I’ll miss or do differently, which is weird enough in its own right.

For example, I will miss the diet coke here. It’s not called diet, it’s called Coca-cola Light. It’s a little bit less sweet than the American version, and it’s really good. Also here, the cans are only 325ml, instead of 375 in the States. It’s an odd but noticeable difference.

And then I just did another habit I’ve caught myself slipping into. Now I call America “the States.” I’ve actually always hated when people do that, but now I can’t help it. In Spanish, the U.S. is called “los estados unidos (ee. uu.)”, and since “estados” literally means states, it’s just become a habit.

At the end of a total of five weeks, who knows what else I’ll have picked up? The Spanish borrow so much from our culture, it’s the least I can do to return the favor.

Indeed they borrow a lot from us. You can watch American movies; all of the stores play American music; you can always buy things like Coke and Pringles; and, they even borrow our fast food (making sure to thank us, of course):

Oh Spain, you are so welcome.

And on Friday, I will be incredibly glad that American culture permeates Spain because I’m going to see Harry Potter! A bunch of people have tests, so we’re not going to the premier (even though I so wanted to spoiler alert all over Facebook since we’re 7 time zones ahead), but we’re going to see it Friday after classes.

That’s one of the benefits of being in Oviedo. It’s a small enough city that we were able to get tickets today, but Oviedo has 200,000 people, so it’s big enough that they still get American movies the same day they come out elsewhere.

Honestly, I could see myself living here. (My parents just rolled their eyes and the bet’s officially over on when I’d say I’m moving to Spain.) Maybe not exactly here, but I think this is a great size city for me. It’s not a New York or a Madrid or something else huge, but it’s got a lot of great people and places, there is a city atmosphere everywhere you go, and anything you need or want is within reach right here in Oviedo, whether it’s shopping or healthcare or different car dealerships or touristy things to do.

It’s just something to think about! After all, I graduate in less than a year, and I have to do something with my life!

La Comida

Sunday, July 10

Since I don’t really have too much to talk about today, I figured I’d use this as an opportunity to catch up my blog on what I’ve been eating.

Breakfast:

The first day, breakfast was little cookies and a café con leche (coffee with milk).  It was really good. After that, she bought me a box of copas de maiz (corn flakes) and I have that every day with café con leche. And even though I tried to explain two days in a row that I want milk for my cereal, she so does not get it. So every morning I have dry cereal. It’s a struggle.

Snack:

During school, we have a half an hour break from 11:30-12. I am always hungry during this time, as are most people. So far, I’ve had coffee from a place next door to the school and I’ve tried the sandwiches in the cafeteria downstairs. They’re called bocadillas (any sandwich made on French-style bread, versus a sandwich made on sliced bred), and so far I’ve only had chicken. I’m going to start trying to take a piece of fruit from home, instead of spending money on a little sandwich.

Lunch:

Every day we’ve had something different, but the routine is usually the same. We usually have soup of some kind and then she makes me a half plate of something else.

I’ve had rice and sausage soup, chicken noodle, chicken and rice, beef stew-esque soup, and this one strange bean thing that I don’t remember the name of, but is really good. And always, always there is a slice of bread with it. The bread she uses is sort of like French bread, but the crust isn’t as soft as you would expect. It’s very hearty and filling.

For the other food, she has made me an egg, some jamón (seasoned ham), fish, minute steak, and chicken a few times. Sometime she hand cuts and pan-fries some French fries, but usually that’s with dinner. Half the time, she cuts me another slice of bread.

Twice, she’s then given me fruit. One day we had this weird melon thing that felt like a cross between cantaloupe and honeydew. It was good, but odd. And the other time she gave me watermelon.

Dinner:

We don’t eat dinner until around 9 or so, and it’s never very big. If there are leftovers from lunch, she might make that. Or she has made eggs on top of French fries, fried ham slices, chicken, and a few other things. I don’t think there’s been a single night when she hasn’t made French fries. I’m not sure if it’s because she thinks I’m American and that’s all I eat, or if she would make the same for herself.

And don’t forget, of course, that all of this also comes with a slice of bread. I’ve probably eaten more bread since I’ve been here than I have in the last year.

The food here is good, but different. The only spices or flavorings she really uses are salt and olive oil, and other people have said their family does the same.

So that’s about it for the food for now, but I’ll keep updating the blog about what I’m eating, since it really is a huge part of the culture of any given place. 

This is torture!!

Saturday, July 9 

Each Saturday that we’re here, the program plans an excursion to another city for the day. The idea is that we get to see a lot of northern Spain, not just Oviedo.

Today’s excursion took us to Santillana del Mar and Llanes, two towns in the next province over.

It was kind of an odd trip because we didn’t really do too much other than explore, but here are some photos of interesting things:

The Torture Museum. It’s devoted to the instruments used in the Spanish Inquisition.

A car preparing to take a new bride and groom from their wedding. Apparently, the post-its wishing them good luck are normal.

The beach in Llanes.

The cubes. They’re these giant stone cubes, some of which are decorated, that protect the pier from the ocean. 

Revelations

Saturday, July 9

Last night, after our espicha, I came back and fell asleep. I guess I must’ve slept pretty hard, because I woke up around 6 in the morning and about four inches of my pillow were soaked with blood from what must have been a bad bloody nose.

Disgusting, right?

But I also immediately panicked, because I had no idea how to explain what happened to my host mom.

Even more awkward, when I got up for breakfast she had already set out my bowl of cereal and gone back to sleep. So I did the only logical thing I could do, and I left the pillow and a note explaining what had happened on the kitchen table.

The note read something to the effect of: “While I was sleeping, I had an accident with my nose. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry about the pillow.” Pretty elementary right? (Although, admittedly, in Spanish I used about 5 different tenses and a handful of pretty vocab.)

I was convinced she was going to think I ran into the wall while sleepwalking or something.

When I got back from our trip for the day, the first thing she does is walk me into my room, show me the cleaned pillow, and explain how she cleaned it. I thanked her about 20 times and apologized, and she was very nice about it and said it happens and that it wasn’t a big deal.

And then at dinner, we’re having our usual half-conversation/half-television time, and she stops for a second and tells me something interesting.

Your note this morning, she says to me in Spanish, was written really well. You just need to work on your conversation to be able to talk like that.

I almost didn’t know what to say. It’s sort of a backhanded compliment I guess, but I think she meant it as a way of saying that she was impressed.

I explained that my Spanish is embarrassing to me because I sound like a 2 year old and that I hate that I can’t express myself as well in this language as I can in English. I’ve tried to explain before that my major is English, so I think she got it when I said that I take a lot of pride in my abilities in English, which almost makes my Spanish worse.

It was kind of a silly moment, and I’m sure she didn’t mean to get me thinking. But her words are incredibly true; I do need to work on my Spanish a lot more. And while that’s why I’m here and the improvements have already been incredible, I know I’ll have a lot more to do when I get home. And my use of real Spanish - not just classroom versions - can’t end here, otherwise what good will I have done myself? 

Espicha

Friday, July 8

First of all, I can’t believe it’s Friday already. One week of school down out of four.

It’s utter insanity how quickly the time has flown.

But in celebration of our first Friday here, the program threw a large espicha for all of us to attend. An espicha is a large party, particularly one that includes Sidra.

We all met at a bus stop a few blocks away from campus, got on specially rented buses, and drove to Tierra Austur, a local restaurant and bar.

They gave us free sidra and wine and a bunch of tapas, or appetizers. It was great to try all sorts of local-made cheeses, sausages, and bread, as well as calamari, tortilla españa (like a quiche, but very specific), and a few other foods. All of it was delicious and the place was so cool.

Here are a couple pictures:

Some of the food. Chorizo, jamon, tortilla espana, and quesos.

The chandelier thing they had out of wine bottles. Anyone else think my mom is going to make one?

Some of us inside one of the huge barrels. Me, Matilda, Maddy, and Craig. 

Anyway, after the official espicha, we all went out around the town. One of the students from Mizzou lives with a host brother named Santiago. He’s 17, speaks English, is about to start college and knows everything about Oviedo and the area. He’s a lot of fun and has also become our unofficial tour guide.

Santi took us to some bars and a little dance club he knows, and we all just had a great time. It was fantastic to get to really know the people on the trip.

Being one of only two relatively sober people for the night, I had the pleasure of helping everyone walk home. It was actually really fun, and walking around in the cool night air in Spain feels great.

By Spanish standards, we were complete babies because we all got home at around 2. You wouldn’t think it, but in fact my 50 plus-year-old host mom was still up, watching American movies on television. And while I went to go hit the hay, she was still going strong. Crazy! 

Siesta

Thursday, July 7

Occasionally I just crash.

As my parents (and really probably anyone who knows me well) can readily tell you, I’m a sleeper. I love naps, sleeping, pillows, blankets and all of it. And while my bed here in Spain isn’t exactly four-star quality comfort, it feels wonderful every night to sink into it.

We’ve been going non-stop all week with class, time for lunch, an excursion, and then sometimes even an evening out. And so today, despite the fact that the excursion was to the beach in Aviles, I just had to crash.

I’ll call it my first true Spanish siesta.

In case you’re not familiar with Spanish culture, the siesta is a traditional Spanish custom. As I’ve explained before, lunch is the big meal here, and it happens at around 2p.m. every day. Everything around town shuts down. Stores close from 1:30-4, banks close, school lets out, and most government-run businesses like the post office and tourist desks won’t reopen. The Spanish go back to their homes and enjoy a large meal with their family. The sit and talk and enjoy each other’s company, and then they go take a brief nap until they have to be back at work.

At my house here, we have lunch when I get home from classes at around 2:15. And we always watch crappy television. There are these two shows we watch every day: one that’s called something like Hombres y mujeres y los dos (Men and Women and Both) which is basically a Maury or Jerry Springer-type show where they send women on dates with random men and then stir up fights between them; and then another called La Buena Ley (The Good Law) where they have a court case, the audience fights over what should happen, and then a judge makes a ruling. My favorite episode thus far has been when two sisters were fighting over their mom’s wedding dress. The older one originally had it, but the other one stole it, along with the man the older one planned to marry. Great television.

Anyway, after that we watch the 3p.m. news. I usually watch about the first 10 minutes, which is enough for the 2-minute overview they give first and then the big news of the day. After that I go get ready for our afternoon activities with the program, which have thus far started at 4.

Today, however, I decided to finally take the siesta I had been looking forward to.

Without really having the intention, I fell asleep for two and a half hours. It seems ridiculous in retrospect, but I don’t regret my decision at all. It’s never really above 70 degrees here, so the beach would’ve been cold and probably only more exhausting. And sometimes, you just need the nap.

Hopefully this will be a rejuvenation and not a habit. As much as I love napping, my intention while here was never to miss out on Spain for sleep. I want to continue seeing as much as I can!

Gijon

Wednesday, July 6

Each day for the first week, we have an excursion with the group from our school. Monday was the trip around Oviedo that ended in Sider, Tuesday was the climb to Jesus, and today we had a train ride and tour to Gijon. The city is the other tourist destination in Asturias, the province of Spain I'm in.

The city is beautiful, and even a little more picturesque than Oviedo. All of the buildings are beautifully colored, there are two beaches, you can see the whole bay, and it's really just lovely.

Taken from the giant hill you can climb that juts out into the bay. 

And then of course, what good is a tour of a city if we don't try their Sider afterwards??

Five bottles for our group of like 20 people. The Spanish are ashamed of how little we drink.

Afterwards a group of about 10 of us from Mizzou went out in Gijon for drinks and good company and fun. It was beautiful, but the whole city by the bay thing meant it was incredibly cold. The highlight of the evening had to be running full speed to make it back to the train, which leaves every half an hour. No one wanted to wait for the next one, so we sprinted!!

Nerd Alert

Wednesday, July 6

I realized in review that I haven’t really talked about classes yet. I think that’s because the days are incredibly long here. By the time I sit down to write each night, the morning classes seem days ago. As I’ve put it more than once, the days last so long, but the month is going to fly by.

But classes are great so far. Over the years, I’ve never really had a Spanish teacher with much influence from Spain. The majority of them were Americans who had studied in Latin America somewhere for a semester or two, and I’ve only had one native speaker, and she was from Mexico. The Spanish is incredibly different. It’s sort of like the difference between English from England and from America. They’re most definitely the same language (not quite so with Australia, so don’t make that far of a comparison) but the vocabulary, the colloquialisms, and the accent are all different.

So having my first Spaniard for a Spanish teacher is a wonderful new adventure. It is a little bit odd to understand his accent. I don’t think I’ve mentioned the Spanish lisp yet, but it’s a big part of my life. Everyone here lisps naturally.

The word for thank you, in America, is pronounced gra-see-as. Not so in Spain. It’s gra-thee-is.

And every “s” they speak gets chopped up into this th sound. But if you ask them to pronounce a “th” (I don’t know, say in the name Kathy?) it’s impossible for them.

Though important, I digress. My teacher, his name is Victor, for our morning class (from 9:30-11:30 and again from 12-1) has been great so far. He’s very animated, doesn’t speak too far over my head, and is working with us on things that are expansions on grammar we should’ve already learned. Each day already, I feel like I’ve learned secrets to the whys of the language that I never got. In language classes, it’s easy to get lost in the what, but he puts a lot of emphasis on the why and the how. It’s fantastic for a grammar geek like me.

My afternoon class is with my Mizzou professor, Zemke. He’s so odd but so fantastic. He started us out on the first day with what he calls the “Zen approach” to language. Don’t translate anything, he says, and you’ll finally start to understand. It’s so difficult when I actually tried it with my host family. It’s like trying to hear but not listen, and then still understand what happened. I’m working on it.

And then today Zemke made me have like 6 different “aha!” moments in one hour of class. He explains a lot about the differences in language in general, and the interesting tidbits about native Spanish that you need to understand for poetry, which is the unit we’ve started with.

For example (if you’re not interested in the nuances of Spanish, skip ahead three paragraphs!!), in English we start our sentences with emphasis and trail off. Think of “How are you doing?” we trail off our pronunciation, put less and less emphasis on each word, and even slur vowels to become “ya” and “doin.” But in Spanish they build until the end of a sentence.

Also, one of the biggest differences is that English relies on rhythm to sound right. As Zemke put it, you can fit as many syllables as you want into a second of time, and as long as you keep the seconds straight, English sounds right. But in Spanish, every syllable has it’s own space of time, and once you set a rhythm, every syllable should have the same time.

Final nerd point, in English we think words are little golden nuggets of their own, and are completely separate from other words. But in Spanish, syllables rely on vowel placement, not on word barriers. For example, in the sentence “Pienso que el año es largo” (Simple Spanish for “I think the year is long”), the two E’s next to each other in que and el won’t each be fully pronounced because they are two strong vowels. And, even more obvious to anyone who has heard Spanish, el and año will combine into only two syllables because the vowel (remember that it’s being relied on to form the syllable) will borrow the l. It sounds more like la-ño.

If you’re not finding this as incredibly interesting as I am, that’s ok. I’m only explaining this because of my final point, which is that I’m finally getting a great opportunity to not just learn this, but hear it and attempt to speak it. I learned all of these things at 1p.m. and then went home and ate lunch with my host mom and tried to decipher where she was doing this.

I’ve only been in Spain for a week, but I guarantee that my Spanish has improved ten fold. So much for the last six years, I’ve spent six days and I feel like I’ve learned more!