Category Archives: Expat Life

Why Are You in Spain?

Ah, the question. The question. I ask it a lot of others; they in turn ask it of me. I love and hate this question, because I love knowing other people’s stories, but I have no idea how to answer it without starting off on some ten-minute-long storytelling session, leaving my questioner with his/her mouth agape and mind reeling by it all.

So, let me just ask you, readers:

Why are you here?

Now that I’ve asked that, I can tell you why I’m here. As it says on my about page, I came to learn Spanish. I stayed for a boy. Mainly.

Would it shock you to know I kinda sorta hated study abroad? I was old enough not to get homesick, but I still did. I did not like living in a teeny-tiny room in an old nunnery with walls so thin you could hear your roommate typing late at night. I didn’t like having to wash my clothes in the shower because the laundry room charged upwards of $10 a load. (This was back when the one euro equaled something like $1.50.) I didn’t like feeling as if it were impossible to make friends except for drinking buddies and intercambios who weren’t really interested in hanging out with me after hours. I didn’t like seeing my bank account drain slowly down to almost nothing.

But I did like learning Spanish. I did like that, and so I dove in headfirst, as much as I could. I got another intercambio because one just wasn’t enough. I spoke to all the waiters in Spanish, even if they insisted on speaking to me in English (the bastards). I studied vigorously, even when all of my classmates were basically taking a semester off. I traveled as much as my budget would allow. I learned to love red wine, olives, and tortilla de patata.

But there was so much I didn’t know at the end of my stay! I didn’t know how to tapear, I hadn’t mastered the subjunctive, I had never had a real Spanish friend that I could text and ask to hang out with. This bothered me. I went back for my senior year unsure of the future and what would happen after May 2009.

As senior year wore on, I had a decision to make—find a job or go back to Spain? I chose Spain, specifically Salamanca. I was excited to experience a new side of Spain, to live in my own apartment, and meet Spaniards. Oh yeah, and improve my Spanish.

I got back to Spain in September 2009, a year and three months after I’d left Toledo. A few days later, I met Mario. He came to the door of the place I was interning, and I was unintentionally rude to his friend and him, but he still went out to dinner with us. The next day, I pretty much asked him out, and the rest was history. My mother waited patiently by the computer to hear updates about this guy I talked about all the time, even though she’d warned me not to fall in love with any Spaniard (only because that could keep me far away from her). Oops! I was head over heels after a few weeks. After a month, I met the family. After three, I was ready to stay indefinitely, if it meant we could be together.

Staying in Spain is not an easy task for many reasons. There’s bureaucracy. There’s homesickness. There’s cultural differences that drive me crazy at times. There’s times when I get so sick of Spanish, of struggling to find the word that I just want to scream, pack my suitcase, and get on the next plane to Chicago. Get me outta here! Mario knows this more than anyone. Luckily, although he wouldn’t feel the same way, he sympathizes as best he can.

There are some expats that love Spain much more than I do (although, don’t get me wrong, I do love it), and they’d stay forever if it were up to them, boyfriend / girlfriend / husband / wife / lover or not. I wouldn’t, though. If not for this husband of mine, I’d be in the States, where my family is, where my friends are, where my history is. Living in another country wears on me, and I’d love to be able to just hop in my car and drive to my parents’, but right now it’s just not possible.

Right now we’re here; right now this is our home. It may not be for forever. That’s okay. When I married a Spaniard, I gave up that right to certainty about where home is. Home is here. Home is there. Home is Zamora, it’s Crawfordsville, it’s Bloomington, it’s Salamanca. It’s Spain and it’s the US. That’s why I’m here.

What about you?

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Doomed/Destined to Teach English

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Or the life of a native English speaker in Spain.

When you move to Spain, you might have high hopes of finding a job, a job that will satisfy you, hone your skills, perhaps even assist in your professional formation and networking. If you moved here with such aspirations, I salute you—for your optimism and your naïveté.

If you are here, you most likely teach English in some form or another. To quote my parents, you don’t have to like it; you just have to do it. Suck it up and do it: speak slowly and deliberately at all times, learn to deal with ridiculously low pay expectations, and search for endless Youtube videos to entertain your six-year-old students with amazingly short attention spans. Lauren from Spanish Sabores writes eloquently about this dilemma in her post, The Quarter Life Expat Crisis.

If someone had told me five years ago that I’d be an English teacher, I would have laughed. Hard. You see, I got my degree in Spanish (surprise, surprise!), and teaching wasn’t exactly my cup of tea. So to find myself here is rather ironic. Disheartening is a word I’d like to avoid.

Bilingual elementary schools … where many end up

It seems that many of us (by us, I mean fellow native English speakers) want something more than private classes, language academics, and applying to the Conversation and Language Assistant program for the third year running. But we’re stuck. Spain’s rampant unemployment (56.5% for youth!) isn’t exactly helping. So we stay here, we schedule classes with reluctant sixth graders, and we learn to refer to tennis shoes as “trainers” in order not to confuse anyone. We get used to being paid under the table, to being part of Spain’s undercover economy that doesn’t show up in the jobs’ numbers.

Five years from now, I may still be here in Madrid. Perhaps I’ll still be trying to get students to remember to add an “s” on the third-person singular present verb forms: “She runs” and not “She run,” please and thank you. But here’s to hoping—hoping that, as many expats before me, I might break out of the English-speaker mold and find that, somewhere out there, Spain has a place for the Spanish major in me, too.

11 Things I Would Never Buy and 8 Things I Would at Taste of America

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Whenever I’m asked about my hobbies, I always say cooking (and reading). I love trying new recipes, cuisines, and tastes. Luckily for me, I have a husband who’s willing to try almost anything (except spicy—he’s not into that). There’s nothing better than mastering a dish, especially when your husband’s from another country and you have finally gotten your tortilla de patatas just right.

The problem about cooking (and eating!) in another country is that sometimes you can’t find what you want. There are certain ingredients that aren’t sold here, at least in your neighborhood supermarket. When I was living in smaller towns—Toledo (2008), Salamanca (2009–2010), or Zamora (2011, 2012)—I noticed this a lot.

I understand the desire for a store that’s just like back home. You know, Trader Joe’s would be nice sometimes. But sometimes I see the products advertised at Taste of America, and I have to admit I would never buy some of those things. Some I would, though. But which ones?

Things I Would Never Buy

Peanut butter. Okay, if you don’t have a food processor, I would buy this. However, I do have my nice little food processor, and making your own nut butter couldn’t be easier. The only downside is the clean up.
Mixes. Make your own cake or brownies. Way cheaper, and healthier (not so many chemicals!).
Frosting. Likewise, it’s way too easy to make your own frosting. I have my favorite frosting recipe, and it is amazing! You don’t have to use powdered sugar!
Popcorn. There is popcorn here; enough said.
Vegetable dip mix. This is easy enough to do it yourself. I like this recipe, with Greek yogurt and a bunch of spices you already have in your cabinet.
Baking soda and corn starch. Why buy these when they already exist over here, and for a much cheaper price? Look for bicarbonato (baking soda) and maizena (corn starch).
Strawberry syrup. Because no. Because it’s gross? Because I once vomited after eating this.
Guacamole mix. Guys, making great guacamole is not difficult. The only semi-difficult part might be finding cilantro, but I’ve seen it in nearby fruterías, so don’t despair.
Pop Tarts. Who knew that one could actually purchase this for the low, low price of €5.60 ($7.28)? These breakfast delicacies bring me back to my middle-school days, when they were my dad’s daily breakfast.
Marshmallows. I don’t have anything against them, and I get why you’d want to buy them, but marshmallows just aren’t my thing.
Yeast. Yes, thank you I would like to pay 10x more yeast!

Things I Would Totally Buy

Pretzels. Yeah, I’ve seen them here, but—to be frank—they suck. I would love to get my hands on some of these pretzels, most notably the Snyder’s Sourdough Hard Pretzels, although the nearly €4 ($5.20) price tag kind of puts me off.
Cheez-Its. These sorts of tasty, cheesy crackers can’t really be found here. The cracker culture is really lacking. I have actually made my own before, and it’s not that difficult, just time consuming, but I think I’d rather do it myself than pay €6.35 for one box!
Maple syrup. Worth it. I do think there are some specialty Spanish shops that will sell it, but the good stuff (a.k.a. not Aunt Jemima’s) is worth forking over some hard-earned cash.
Some cereals. I am a little bit ashamed to admit that I saw this box of Cap’n Crunch and suddenly had the urge to grab a huge bowl of it. Peanut butter, regular … come back to me!
Sriracha. I would buy this amazing sauce. Mario might not touch it, but this sauce is so versatile. You can use it on shrimp, in a Bloody Mary, cornbread muffins, on popcorn, in dips … the list goes on and on. But I don’t see this listed at Taste of America. Too bad!
Blow pops. I have this weird love for all things lollipop. Yeah, I’d buy ’em!
Reese’s. There’s nothing like the combination of peanut butter and chocolate. Although I do make my own desserts that combine the two, Reese’s satisfies a childhood craving.
Ranch dressing. Ranch dressing is a gift given to man; we must not waste it.

Which products would you buy?

Are You Proud of Where You’re From?

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I’m from Indiana. And before you start assuming that we’re all bunch of corn-fed, down-home hicks, let me just tell you’re wrong. Flat-out wrong. I’m proud to be a Hoosier. We’re number in basketball. We’re damn nice people. And we know how to react when it snows.

Growing up, everybody wanted to get “out” of Indiana, to travel far away for college, to leave behind what we saw as boring, as nothing, as not worth knowing. Growing up, we were naïve. Far too good we had it, back in my hometown, with teachers who cared, basketball games on Friday nights, and after-school jobs at the local ice cream shop. We grew up in a slice of americana, if you will. Not everyone shares my experience, but a lot of us do. It was a blessed, innocent time in our lives.

So we left. We spread out. Some of us stayed home, some of us left for college around the country, some of us dreamed of leaving but couldn’t. Some of us studied abroad; some of us never came back. But those of us who left have a unique perspective. We know what it’s like to be the foreigner, the different one. We know how it is to defend one’s country, one’s state. Because of this, many of us become (absurdly?) prouder of our home, of our families, of our way of life.

I’m proud to be from Indiana.

In Spain, I’m the American. I’m the one people question when something absurd has happened with our government, when there is a shooting for the umpteenth time, when there is a snowstorm … I represent the States for many of my husband’s family members. It’s a bit like being an ambassador, except the pay is kind of crappy and you don’t get invited to any VIP parties.

There are bad things about the US. But living abroad teaches me to remember the good, to hold it close and cherish it. There are small things I love: smiles on the street, free refills, basketball, tailgating, skyscrapers, tator tots (what?), music. There are the big things: resilience, entrepreneurship, Title IX, universities, the first amendment, natural beauty, diversity, generosity.

I’m proud to be from the US.

In Spain, my adopted home is Zamora. Zamora is beautiful, quiet, full of Romanesque treasures. It’s situated on the Duero River, which is the heart of the city.

Ha sido y es la memoria, la fuerza a veces incontrolada de sus avenidas que todo lo arrasa, los juegos, las aventuras, los amores… la barca y el barquero.
De él llega la niebla, pero también el aliento, esa luz especial relacionada con la vida y el movimiento, que en diálogo con la estática urbe da forma a ese tiempo interno, elíptico de la ciudad, y el aire para respirar y las aves, y los colores.
Él fue la energía que movió el comercio y la industria harinera y a través de él llegan las estaciones, las noticias o las historias ya desarrolladas porque el Duero en Zamora es ya Don.

Zamora, according to Henry IV, was (and is!) a “most noble and most loyal city.”

I’m proud to be an adopted zamorana. And I know many of my husband’s family are proud to be from Zamora.

As proud as I am to be an American, I don’t see that pride from Spaniards about their country. Oh sure, get them talking about their food or their region or their local traditions … they’ll talk your ear off? But Spain in general. You might just hear crickets!

I’m not criticizing. At all. It’s a phenomenon I think that many of we foreigners have noticed. There’s not point in blind patriotism, but the lack of it altogether sometimes bewilders me.

Do you notice more local/regional pride in your part of Spain? Do you have an adopted region?

11 Little Things that Make Me Smile, Madrid Edition

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It’s the little things, isn’t it? The big things are great, wonderful—but they’re often few and far between. Of course, the fact that they are indeed scarce makes them all the easier to appreciate.

Photo by Emilio García

But the small things? They’re the type of occurrences that could and do happen every day. We just have to learn to notice them.

All the crosswalks are green when you get to them, even those pesky ones with two distinct lights, meaning you usually have to stop in the middle of the street to wait for the second.
Arriving at the metro station and hop right on the train, both at the first station and your transfer station. Bliss.
There are available seats on the metro. In fact, there are more than enough so you don’t have to squeeze in like a sausage!
Remembering an errand you forgot to do, only to walk right by the store you need, whether it be the supermarket, the hardware store, or the bank.
When there’s no line at the bank.
When the cashiers at the supermarket smile and treat you kindly.
When there’s a long line at the supermarket and they actually open a new line—and you get to go first.
When your Spanish comes out perfectly the first time.
Seeing the weather forecast app predicts sun, sun, sun for the foreseeable future. Not only during the weekend, but the weekend too!
The tapas bar is full, but not too full. If you get what I’m sayin’.
The wine you order is a) delicious and b) costs less than €2 per copa.

What little things make you smile in your city?

The Thing Is …

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I’m not the world’s most prolific blogger. Why?

I don’t really care about SEO. I know, it’d help me. But as of now, my blog isn’t business, nor do I plan on making into one, so I see no real point. Try to convince me otherwise in the comments section!
I don’t buy into the whole “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” blogging circle. If you like what I write, share it (if you so desire). If you don’t, let me know by commenting or emailing me. If I like yours, I’ll do the same. I don’t want to get into any debates, but the idea of sharing someone’s work just so they’ll share mine is not something I want to get into.
I’m not interested in publishing your guest posts, the kind which you email me about with links to previous posts on other sites. These people email me, and then when I don’t reply, they email me again. Take a hint much?!
I fail at responding to all my emails. I am really grateful to those people who email me, but I’ve not been the best blogger lately. I have had several people email me, and as it’s not my full-time job, I put it aside for a later date, which sometimes doesn’t seem to come about so often. I’m sorry about that. I want to be better in the future.

I’ve had a short break during which I went private, brought on my insecurity about the future of this blog. Funnily enough, life in Spain is just life. (I know: I’ve said this before, a million times.) I don’t always have that much to say. The only thing I can say is that I will talk about this life without sugarcoating it, because I’m not Mrs. Bright and Sunny. There are so many things that are good about my life in Spain. For instance:

My students. They are all wonderful, even the troublesome ones. There is T, who can’t talk without yelling; M, a tall soccer player with great English and an amazing laugh; P, whose English at 11 years old astounds me; C, who’s studying both German and English; and E, who isn’t that good at English but always has a shy smile for me.
Being close to Mario. I can’t tell you how grateful I feel for him and the fact that I get to live with him now. Being in a long-distance relationship is tough, but I think being in a long-distance, bicultural one is even more so. Before any permanent state of togetherness is achieved (be it by marriage or pareja de hecho), there is doubt … doubt that it’ll ever work out, doubt that the bureaucracy will work in your favor, doubt that you can ever wait so long. But we overcame that period; we’re together now; we’re in this for the long haul.
The opportunity to live in another country. I think we can all agree that this isn’t something that everyone gets to experience, and I am so grateful for it.
Meeting other expats like me. I didn’t meet that many people in Zamora like me, but here in Spain I’m part of great groups that allow me to meet new people in so many places: game nights, drinks, pumpkin carving, etc. I’ve already met some great people, but there are always more to meet!

But then there’s the tough parts too: missing family, being sick far away from home with a system you don’t understand, the constant lluvia that has been the theme of this past week (which sucks even more when you have to walk two miles to work in it!), the lack of convenient transportation at times, and I could go on. But, although it’s my tendency, I’m focusing on the good.

There is always bad with the good. There just is. Yet I believe I can be the kind of person (and blogger!) who sees both and chooses to focus on the latter.

If you were honest about life as an expat and/or traveler, what would you tell your readers?

Spain Blogger Confessions

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You all already know I’m not the starry-eyed Spain enthusiast that some bloggers are. I do like Spain, of course—I just take it in moderation. Some days enough gets to be enough. So I thought I’d confess a few things that you might not have surmised from my posts. It’s okay to be honest—really, we’re better off for it!

Okay, Kaley, less “Blah, blah, blah” and more fun!

I don’t try everything. I don’t care how good you insist it is, I don’t want to try morro (snout) or criadilla (bull testicle) or oreja (ear). I’ve tried orejas already and never again!). If this makes me unadventurous, sue me.
I hate dubbing. I refuse to watch TV shows dubbed. In any language. Please, try to tell me that The Big Bang Theory is just as funny in Spanish. No. Just no. So yeah, this means I watch a lot of TV in English, which is bad for my Spanish learning. But I really don’t like Spanish TV or movies. Neither does Mario.
I’m still patriotic. No, I’m not blindly patriotic. I understand the US has its flaws and is not God’s chosen country, but I still love my country and miss so many things about it—barbecues, the openness, the informality, the ease with which I navigated any and all social situations … en fin, so much!
I don’t idealize the Spanish lifestyle. Sure, Spain is known for relaxation, sun, and siestas. But the truth is, many Spaniards work endless days and get little to no rest. Nowadays the unemployment rate is sky high. I think that Spaniards definitely get it right with regards to enjoying food/drink, eating healthily, and walking, but they’re not perfect. They’re not inherently less lazy than Americans. They’re human—just like us.

Spain + America = Success

I have a love/hate relationship with blogging. Sometimes (most of the time), I love blogging. I love the relationships it has created, the opportunities it has given me, the wonderful feedback I get from it. At others, I feel intimidated by other bloggers, worried that no one likes me, afraid that what I say will cause someone somewhere to become angry with me. I’m often envious of other bloggers’ success because I wish that I could achieve that same level of success without compromising any of my principles.

So, what about you—anything to confess? C’mon, spill it.

So You’re Dating a Spaniard—Cat

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Cat has been a blog “friend” of mine since 2010. Being the nosy blogger that I am, I found a lot of my now-favorite blogs by clicking on links from commenters on other blogs. Once I found Cat, I thought I’d found a kindred spirit. She’s the kind of blogger I hope to be: dedicated, funny, irreverent, full of life, amazing at Spanish (with an Andalú accent, of course). Blogging from the south of Spain since 2007, you can learn a lot about Spain, Spaniards, and Spanish in general from her blog. Welcome!

Please introduce yourself (name, age, why you’re in Spain, etc.).

My name is Cat, and I’m a Chicagoan living in Seville. After studying in Castilla y León, I came to Seville to participate in the Language and Culture Assistants program at a high school. Not six weeks in La Hispalense, my partner Enrique and I met.

How did you meet your significant other and how long have you been together?

I wish I had a great story of how I met Kike, but it’s not: a mutual friend invited him over to my house for dinner. We went out for a drink later and she left us alone. We didn’t hit it off right away, as he was dating someone else, but after a few weeks, we were exclusive. We just celebrated our fifth anniversary. I had promised him a Thanksgiving dinner a few days early, but he’s a military pilot and was sent away on a mission – I invited his mom instead!

Do you feel that your significant other is a “typical” Spaniard? If not, why?

Yes and no. Kike is very sevillano in many ways: he loves Feria, gin tonics, and horses. At the same time, he speaks several languages, has traveled extensively and loves heavy metal. For whatever reason, we’ve found a way to make two very different people from two different worlds make it work!

Which language do you speak when you’re together? Why?

When we first met, I was intimidated by how good Kike’s English was, as my Spanish was poor. When my parents came to visit a few weeks later, I could barely order a meal in Spanish well, so I decided we needed to start speaking to one another in Spanish. Now, speaking in English is what we do if we’re around my family or someone who doesn’t speak Spanish. His skills in my native tongue have definitely diminished, whereas my Spanish is now pretty solid.

How do you deal with the “in-law” issue? Have you met them? Do you get along?

I fell extremely fortunate to have my suegra so close, especially because I am so far from my own family. Carmin and I get along tremendously well, and she and I met and got along from the very beginning of my relationship with Kike. I’m also extremely close with Kike’s younger brothers.

What is the best part about dating/being married to a foreigner (and especially a Spaniard)?

There have been numerous advantages to dating a foreigner, particularly at the beginning. I had someone who would help me deal with the bank, my cell phone company, etc., and Kike was willing to bus me around nearly all of Spain. Now that we’re five years into the relationship, having a bicultural relationship has morphed into a really wonderful way to experience twice as much as I might have if Kike were also American. I feel that I get twice as much out of it because we are different and have that much more to share with one another. What’s more, we did pareja de hecho, which is similar to a civil union, so he helped me get my work and residence papers!

What is the most difficult part?

Now that the language barrier and the cultural differences have been practically erased, the hardest part about dating Kike is being able to plan for the future. I sometimes feel like I have to sacrifice a bit more because of his job – he’s gone a minimum of three months during the year and will likely be transferred in the next three to five years. This has been the cause of several arguments as we try and decide what will be the best for us in the coming years.

What advice would you give someone who is considering starting a relationship with a Spaniard?

Not to take it too seriously. Dating someone different from you has so many advantages, but there’s no reason that person the only one you hang out with. I think that Kike and I have survived because balance has always been important to us. He understands that I have friends, that I need alone time, and that visiting Chicago at least once a year is necessary. As a matter of fact, we’ve never spent either of our birthdays together, because they both fall in the same week, and I’m often back home!

Do you plan on living in the US or in Spain long term? Why?

At the moment, I think we’re staying in Spain. We’ve talked more seriously about what to do with all of the things that will happen when we’re more than two, but I think it would be much harder for him to adjust to living in America than it will be for me to adjust to living in Spain forever. I moved quite a few times when I was young, and I like the challenge of starting from scratch. Plus, his job as a military pilot means we have at least five years more so he can get his pension for all of those missions abroad!

Do you plan on having children? If so, do you plan on raising them bilingual?

Kike and I have always, always planned on kids, and I admire his fascination with them. Right from the beginning, he told me he’d name his three sons Enrique, Santiago and Rodrigo. When I couldn’t say the name correctly, he chose and Anglo name, Connor.

While there are many things we don’t see eye to eye on, raising bilingual children and their education has always been something we’ve agreed on. Maybe it comes from our values system, or from the way we were raised, but I would be honored to raise children with someone who is attentive and loving, yet firm and grounded.

If you could import something from the US to Spain (and vice versa), what would it be?

After being in Spain for so long, I have grown accustomed to not having certain things, or to replace them with a Spanish equivalent. It’s sometimes irritating to pay a bit more for certain products, but Kike travels to the US more often than I do, so I always send him a list of what I need. If I could import American efficiency to Spain, I would, but if it had to be a product, I would love to have kosher-style hot dogs!

How has being in a relationship with a Spaniard changed you?

I don’t think I would have stayed in Spain for as long as I have if it weren’t for Kike. Between not having the right to work and the uncertainty of the financial crisis, Kike has been what has anchored me in Spain. Through it all, I’ve found my own place in Seville and am thankful to have a job and a great group of American friends, but it’s nice to come home at the end of the day and be where it feels right.

Thank you so much, Cat! I am so glad you’ve found what feels right at the end of the day.

If you want to be a part of my series, So You’re Dating a Spaniard, please email me at kalhendr[at]gmail[dot]com or stalk me on Facebook.

How to Host Thanksgiving in Spain

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Having hosted two Thanksgivings in Spain, I now consider myself an expert, obviously. That’s just how these things go.

Buy a female turkey, una pavita. I had no idea before 2010, but smaller turkeys are tastier

Mario helped too!

Have a pinche, a sous chef. Mario’s father, Jesús, was my sous chef, and the best one there could possibly be. He spent the whole morning chopping, cutting, and just generally being helpful. Also, he is totally relaxed. Find one of those.
There will be bread. This is Spain, how could there not be?
Stand up to the idea of primer plato, segundo plato. Stay steadfast in your American-type meal and have your guests eat everything off the same plate. The horror!

Let someone else make the dessert, even if they make it differently than you would. This year, we didn’t have the traditional pumpkin pie; rather, we had a sort of pumpkin cake. No big deal. We ate some pumpkin, okay?!

Drink local wine. Better yet, have another person bring that local wine, especially someone from Toro!

There you go, my recommendations for a Spanish-American Thanksgiving. Go forth, and roast yourself a turkey!

Learning to Live in Spain

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Have you all read my interview over on Expats Blog? If not, head on over to read my interview and leave a comment on my profile page if you’re so inclined.

Other people to visit: Erik, Erin, Hamatha, Lauren, Cat, and Christine.

One of the questions I was asked in my interview was “If you could pick one piece of advice to anyone moving here, what would it be?” It’s a difficult question for me, because I’m not one to give advice, at least not without advising you to take whatever I say with a large grain of salt. You see, everyone is different, and I don’t think my experience is the only one, or that you’re like me, or anything of the sort.

Maybe you don’t like garlic. But why would you come to Spain then?

But when I first came to Spain, to study abroad in Toledo in 2008, I was very unprepared for what was ahead of me. I was excited to travel and to see Europe, but I had no idea how it would be to live in a culture that is like your own but unlike it in so many subtle ways. Perhaps it’s silly for me to say that it might be less shocking to go somewhere in Asia or Africa, because at least then you’d be expecting big culture shocks.

I had to learn to live in another culture, a culture that feels more and more familiar every day, but that will never be truly my own. I had to learn to embrace it for what it is—and not what I wish it could be. I had to learn to stop blaming Spain or Spaniards in general when something went wrong.

They’re not so bad, Spaniards

Right now I’m tetchy about the numerous and unending strikes—huelgas—in Spain. So far we’ve had three transportation strikes, a general strike, a health-care workers’ strike, and now we’re set for an Iberia (the airline company) strike for Christmastime. I understand that things are tough in Spain right now, but messing with my Christmas plans? Understandably, I’m irked. Everyone needs to be home for Christmas (if they want to), am I right?

Before this year, I would have readily and easily placed the blame on Spain or Spaniards in general, forgetting that many Spaniards don’t agree with the strikes and dislike them as much as I do. In the past, I would have let that negativity overwhelm me and color my view of Spain for a good long time. But this year, this year I’m trying something new and difficult: not placing the big bad blame on Spain. Someone’s to blame, sure. But nothing bad has even happened yet!

Learning to live in another country is easy for some, not so easy for others (me). It has taken me four years, but I’m finally getting the message: you’re in Spain, Spain’s not home, and that’s just fine. Take it as it is. After all, we all know: Spain is different.

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Kaley…& Más