A rather tardy review of CC-CS and a few bits of advice

My opinion on The Center for Cross-Cultural Studies has changed since my first few days here in chilly February.

I didn't speak all that much Spanish during the semester and that was my biggest complaint. I didn't find the classes challenging, but I really should have taken courses at the university. I didn't speak Spanish all the time in the Center--I confess--but no one else did either. At home, my roommate and I ended up chatting in English every so often when we weren't around our host señora. I could have been responsible for myself and only spoken in Spanish, but I didn't. So, I want to clear this up for myself and tell future study abroad students: speak Spanish. You might be the only one doing it, but do it anyway. Avoid Americans. This means you'll be a loner for a while, but do it anyway.

Volunteer. Take basic dance classes at Voulez-bar in Nervión. Do something other than going to Buddha or Caramelo with Americans if you can help it. Well. Maybe go once. It's an experience. Hang out with your intercambios, too.

Find a neat bar or café near your home and go there every so often. Get to know the people that work there or frequent there and you'll have found yourself a speaking partner and they won't even be aware how beneficial they are to you. Una tostada con mermelada (my favorite) y café con leche would be the perfect complements to a Spanish conversation at breakfast.

This is just if you actually want to improve your Spanish. There is plenty of fun to be had with little to no effort involved if you don't really want to practice too much. Anyway, those are some of my consejos.

The CC-CS staff have always been helpful, as far as I've found. Helpful in the Spanish way, but definitely there to lend a hand, whether it means getting help in a roundabout way or a different-than-American-organized way--they get the job done. We are in Sevilla, España after all. Things are not the same as in our country.

And a report of their office staff: a few days ago, I went to hand in my cell phone. I ran into the director who A) remembered my name though we hadn't spoken much, and I hadn't been there since mid-May! and B) took a minute or two to chat. I love that about Spanish culture: there is (almost) always time to catch up with someone you happen to run into. And last week, I ran into one of my professors on the street. She was shopping, paused to chat a bit, and--like the director--remembered my name, too! I really appreciate when people remember names. It's just a nice detail.

In the main office, the women are kind and offer a hello and a smile along with their useful aid for us ignorant guiri students. Take advantage of the opportunities when studying abroad. Get over the cultural differences. Be prepared to be offended sometimes but be aware you may be offending someone sometimes too. Focus on the positive! ¡Y habla español!

EDIT: After reading this, I've realized the enormous amount of command forms. Be prepared. This is the way we speak here. Commands twenty-four seven. It's so efficient! 

Being where I am 45%.

My enthusiasm is running low and filling me with the same dread I feel when I’m at a café with WiFi and I see my computer battery is low and I don’t have my charger and adaptor.

Which, in reality, is not that big of a deal.

Today is Tuesday. So soon--Monday, August 1--I will be leavin’ on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again...

In some ways, life is going to be so easy and comfortable back in Meecheegan. But, life is still fun and chock-full of learning experiences here. I’m entirely aware that the idea of being able to escape and leave behind my life here is something that doesn’t really happen normally. So, I have to continue to choose to be totally here.

Easier said than done.

Yesterday, I almost cried. I almost ditched plans with a group of people.
Today, I decided, is the last day I’m going to Starbucks--I think.
Tomorrow...well, I’m just not going to worry about it. Today’s enough. At the very least, I have plans to hang out with the one girl that’s been a friend to me this summer.

Part of being here 100% feels like I’m here 250%--hurtling me out of my comfort zone, stretching me, challenging me, scaring me and definitely, bettering me.

One way I have needed to step out of my comfort zone is in accepting invitations to dine at people’s homes. And, due to a) not being where I am 100% b) my idiotic fear that people dislike me and c) a cultural miscommunication, I was totally and accidentally rude last week! I was invited to eat lunch with a family after church, I accepted and then didn’t go to church. I didn’t exactly forget but I didn’t really think I was expected either and I had something else to do. Really, I just didn’t think. At all. Until the next week, when I hurriedly apologized and was just as quickly, and sweetly, pardoned. I realize one reason that I pushed it from my mind was because after inviting me casually, the couple left and said ‘bye without confirming plans. I think the confirmation is essential in the States. Or maybe that’s just me? Anyway, I convinced myself they didn’t really expect me and voila!: accidentally impolite.

So, take people at their word! Period. Letting your 'yes be yes and your no be no' is a good thing to practice and to accept from others. If people say something is okay, it’s okay. If you ask them if they want help and they say no, leave them be: but, one may encounter issues: for instance, here, you have to deny what people want to do to/for you (for example, more helpings of food multiple times)--just remember that. There are, of course, worse problems to encounter. If people invite you over for lunch, they may just want you to come over for lunch. Gee whiz, what a thought!


Because I like adventures, because I want to be sent to some far corner of the world with Wycliffe Bible Translators and because I am me; I chose to stay here to live in another culture and push myself personally and linguistically. SUCCESS! I couldn’t have chosen from many other options that would have beaten me up mentally and emotionally as much as this summer has. I am so thankful for this experience! I have learned a lot--equal parts of Andalucia’s culture and language and a greater understanding of myself and the blessings I’ve received. I will always have fond memories of Sevilla and I am already dreaming of when I can come back, if I can fit it into my future. We’ll see. I mean, I will need a few weeks before I start dreaming about coming back...but it will happen.

And you too can experience (something hilarious and moderately representative of) la cultura andaluz. Check this out:

Así sí…

Finally, photos from Norway!

Danger at Besseggen.

Well, see this and more, lovelier photos in my web album of my Norwegian adventures. There are about three hundred. Dedicated followers may peruse them all but I do plan/hope to sort through them and delete the riff-raff.

This was our route:

Naive

See post: "Like a tap dance..."

That guy just gave me the drink for free. Of course I can´t walk in there and pay later! He just didn´t enter it in the system. And I suppose I cannot imagine myself walking in ¨Hi, the other day, someone gave me a free drink? I´m here to pay for it...¨

My one American friend here laughed at me for thinking that I actually was expected to pay for the frap.

So, muchas gracias, Starbucks guy.

(Maybe that´s why he looked at me like I was silly when I asked when the machine would work again...) Good heavens.

(Do things like that happen in America? I feel like they don´t really.)


In other, much less embarassing news, yesterday during a conversation I was asked ¨How many years have you lived in Spain?¨ (...in case it´s not obvious, it was in Spanish. I don´t actually speak that much English these days.)

Qué guay.


Interesting fact of the day:

I set a new record for myself. Thursday night I got three hours of sleep, leaving me pretty exhausted on Friday. I went to Huelva with my American friend, helped him teach a dance workshop thing to españoles, colombianos and brasileños and then went out to lunch with three Brazilians. (Side note: I find Brazilian Portuguese much lovlier than Portuguese Portuguese. And I’m not alone in this.) On the bus ride home, I slept for 45 minutes of the hour-long trip, then got home at about 7 PM, said hi to my flat-mate and that I thought I’d take a little siesta.

Well.

That siesta lasted a long time, I realized, when I woke up at 1:20 AM! I got up, got a sip of water, said good night and went to bed again. Until 9 AM. I calculate I slept about 14 hours. Cielos. I’m not sure if I should be worried or not.

"Like a tap dance..."

...an excerpt from a quote by Marina, regarding my life. Oh, Spain.


Today I enjoyed a free caramel frappuccino from Starbucks! Well, free at least for today. The guy working there kindly told me to come another day and pay, since the credit card machine was down and I had no cash on me at the moment. Wow! That would not happen in the States.

Trust is an odd issue here in Spain. A friend of mine will tell me to look away as she types her e-mail password in and yet a Starbucks employee will let me walk away with a drink that costs €4,30. I find this so unusual. I may be making generalizations based on these particular instances, but I have seen this type of behavior elsewhere too. Walking through my apartment building, people peer out of their windows to see who am I. And it isn't because I'm a foreigner: if they hear anyone going by, they look to see who it is. Why does it matter?

I look forward to baking again. Vanilla extract here is atrociously expensive. As is maple syrup, among other things.

Though I am so excited to get home, I am still going to be where I am. For right now, that means Sevilla, España. Thanks Brown, for good advice.

10 days left!

Therefore be careful how you walk, not as unwise men but as wise, making the most of your time, because the days are evil.

--Ephesians 5:15, 16

La que vino del mar.

Te quiero, amiga!

Here we are, hanging out at a pool on a warm afternoon with our friend from salsa class. From chilly February until this ridiculously hot July, we've been keeping each other sane here in sunny Spain. Good thing phone plans through CC-CS were free for calls between students, right Marina? :)

I remember thinking--when people would say "Oh, that's great that someone will be there that you know, right?" -- "I'll be fine on my own."

...what a joke.

It's been a blessing to have her around! We've learned from each other, worked on our Spanish and frequented the dance floor at Voulez-bar, stunning people there by being both blonde and capable of dancing salsa and bachata.

Thousands of words

I haven´t uploaded pictures for two months so here are a few. See more awesome salsa photos and more, here.
They range from the last fiesta at CC-CS up to the past week & capture part of my Spanish life in snapshots.

In Norway, lock the bathroom door.

People don´t knock on the door before opening it. Before I forgot entirely, that was just a bit of advice I wanted to pass on to anyone else traveling up to beautiful and chilly northern Europe.

And in Spain--maybe these aren´t true of everyone, everywhere but they´re what I´ve been told or learned by experience--don´t go to bed without saying goodnight, otherwise you´ll be considered quite rude.
Don´t smile at people on the sidewalks or in bars unless you want to welcome undesirable attentions.
Do ring the bell on your bike to let people know you´re coming. It´s apparently more obnoxious to whiz by them unannounced.
Don´t tip anyone (unless they really deserve it...and I´m sorry to say, they won´t often because they´re not working to earn them.)
If you´re in even the slightest bit of a hurry, ask for the bill before you´ve even begun eating and always remember, you must actually ask for the bill--often more than once.

Above all, when in a foreign country, remember that people won´t always understand cultural differences (just as you won´t yourself). As the visitor, you have to be on your toes and expect to meet many a challenge. They might find it hard to see their own culture from an outside perspective.



Two weeks and 6 days from right now I will be on a plane heading west to Lisbon, Portugal and will be there 24 hours (thank you, airlines) followed by a hop, skip and a jump through the United States (Philadelphia, Chicago, Detroit, Hancock) will arrive home after a two-hour drive. From 10:00 AM, August 1st until I actually get home at 2:00 AM, August 3rd, I will likely be shouting for joy in Spanglish.


A few days ago I had such a pleasantly delightful, albeit normal, day I thought ´´Gee, why don´t I blog about this for the folks back home?´´ As is often the case, though I don´t have much that I have to do, I find myself constantly on the move, occupied by practicing guitar, teaching (in a very loose sense of the word) English or German or biking here and there in the city, running errands. So I finally got around to it today.

Now I remember--it was Friday. The last day I taught English to two boys here. As per usual, I got up, helped get some coffee brewed, toast toasted and some fresh cheese and apple membrillo (it´s sort of like a thick, dry jam. I have no idea what you would call it in English) out of the fridge, ready to spread on some whole grain bread I purchased the morning before.

After that, and turning on the hot water for a shower and scurrying through my morning routine, I got out of the house by 11:10 in order to get to tutoring for 11:30. I swiped my bike card, leapt on a moderately-functional bike and headed toward the center.

Greeted at their home by the boys, ages 7 and 13 (the elder´s birthday was the day before), I was informed that we were to go to las setas that day. It´s actually a modern structure for shopping and a high look-out point to view the city, but here it´s literally called the mushrooms because of its peculiar shape. Below the structure lie ruins, which we were to also visit as an educational outing, I suppose. With these two, I have my hands full. They´re cute and mischevious and I am supposed to only talk to them in English. Long ago, though, I realized the futility of that, so we´ve been speaking Spanglish ever since. It works well.

The 7-year-old more or less conquered the gerund. I would say the infinitive in Spanish and see if he could get the ´´in action´´ verb in English. And if he didn´t know it, I´d next say the English infinitive. After a cumulative 3 hours of this, he could go from comer to ´´eating!´´ among other things. I tried the superlative with the older brother, of course having to expain it didn´t always work..funnest, beautifulest, etc. I am glad to have grown up speaking English!

On top of the mushroom building, when we were looking out over the city, the little guy got nervous. At first I thought he was kidding, as he often is, but as soon as he grabbed onto me, I realized he meant it. Now, at seven years old, he wants to be independent and tough, yet wanted the comfort of knowing I was there--so darling--what did he do? Grabbed my wrist. Apparently holding my hand would have been too childish for him. So we strolled around a bit, wrist in hand, before heading back down to the ground in search of ice cream.

Going on outings with little kids is like the grown-up version of playing house: I almost felt like the two of them were my children, until I realized...I am only twenty-one. I so often forget. They are seven and thirteen. So in reality, they are like my little brothers. (So much life ahead of me! What to do...what to do? Well, first things first, continue recounting my day rather than go off on an existential tanget...)

After some more Spanglish, English grammar, ice cream and a free sample of frozen yogurt, my time was up. I dropped them off with their grandmother (she might actually be their great-grandmother or great-aunt..but here in Spain, things aren´t always made clear) and headed home. I believe I am going to write them in very, very simple English. I do hope they continue studying...

Merrily on my way with my final paycheck of the summer, I meandered  through the uneven and unpredictable streets to the market close to home to pick up some fresh fruit and vegetables and something to eat for lunch. I had told my roommate/friend that I was going to rustle up some grubs for the main meal that day.


I made sure to go to the produce stand run by the most amiable man in the market. He happily helped me pick out some delicious paraguayos (which look like flattened peaches) among other things. Fruits and vegetables are so fresh, flavorful and cheap here! Loading up my Le sac de Maman bag I got in Paris (´´Mom´s bag´´...I find it funny & it´s great for an outing to the market) I decided we needed something substantial for lunch. So, some protein (both my mother and father will be glad to know they trained me well in this respect)!

Now, the last time I picked out meat at a butcher was three years ago in Costa Rica! And my friend/Costa Rican mother always told me what to get. So, there I stood, certainly looking as lost as I felt, peering down at lumps of bloody meat from various animals, unknown to me. Two little old ladies arrived after me and I encouraged them to please order before me...I remained undecided. The butcher, amused, assisted me when I explained my dilemma: I was to make lunch. We selected some pork which I could throw in a skillet with some just-purchased veggies. Upon deciding the quantity of three glistening slices, he said ´´Oh, two for him and one for you, eh?´´ I just laughed. (A literal translation of what a friend said: I must have all the paint of a Spanish housewife. Yeah, that´s funny.)

Pork, peppers, paraguayos--next up, pan! I stopped at my usual bakery to pick up some whole-grain bread and then headed home in the hot afternoon sun.

Lunch was a success, if I do say so myself. And spending the morning feeling oh-so-very-Sevillian was equally thrilling.

...still counting the days though, until I get home and can make some good gazpacho for you, my dear friends!

How did Emily Dickinson survive?

Call me American (and you´d be correct) but the three weeks ahead with zero plans seem to be looming endlessly.

I just like to be productive and useful.

Maybe I will be a pro guitarist by the time I leave, or speak fluent German, or be bald due to an existential crisis leading to a total head shave

If Em could hang out in her house all her life, I think I can manage something for a few days. And she wrote beautiful poetry, nonetheless. Maybe I can do something like it.

27: Continuing the countdown

I love Sevilla! I am so glad for the friends I´ve met here and my dear little church and the hot sun and the new culture to in which to thrive, learn and sometimes--just survive. At thirty-two days left, I was a bit more stressed out..that was only a few days ago, but I just couldn´t decide what I wanted to do. I literally looked up tickets for home! I heaped blame on the Spanish culture--which was partially to blame for my stress--but I will accept the rest of it. Anyway, now things are sorted. I can avoid lots of difficulties by doing what I want to do rather than worrying about the opinions of others (when it´s applicable, it´s definitely best to do what we want to do and not freak out..like I am known to do).

I miss Marquette, too! And I am so excited to get home and see everyone. These few weeks will fly by (I hope) and soon I will be attacking my friends with ferocious hugs (since I have experienced a hug shortage in Spain.)
It´s like my feelings about college: I adore Hillsdale (our strange little bubble of intellectual oddballs) but I am equally ready to graduate and get outta there! Probably more ready to graduate than go back for this final year...sort of like I´m more ready to head home than stay here much longer.

Just learning contement, as per usual.

And, to repeat the usual Spanglish refrain around my home here: El Señor es maravilloso, all the time!