Tag Archives: study abroad

Why Are You in Spain?

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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What about you?

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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.

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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.

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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.

What Not to Put on Your Auxiliar To-Do List

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I read the Facebook groups and occasionally the forums for this year’s Conversation Assistants in Spain. I see the various questions about what to bring, visas, NIEs, etc. I also see the questions about “bucket lists” or, if you want to use the less-annoying term, “goal lists.” You know, it’s cool to have goals. I’m pretty terrible at setting goals, so I’m inspired when people set goals and achieve them. But some goals should never be set. Let me tell you what not to put on your auxiliar/Spain “to-do” list.

  • Date a Spaniard—Wait, what? Is this really a goal of yours? I know, I know … I too am attached to one, and they are great. Well, Mario is great. But why oh why is your goal to date one? At the end of the day, Spaniards are humans, just like you. So perhaps you can understand why I find your goal of a Spanish significant other to be flat out stupid. They are not a commodity to be had. Sorry.

Spaniards aren’t an item to check off your to-do list.

  • Become fluent—Unless you come to Spain with an absurdly good level of Spanish, your Spanish is not going to progress to “fluent” level in just one year. Fluency is notoriously difficult level to achieve. Fluency requires immersion, a lot of speaking time, and loads of patience for the times when you don’t believe your Spanish is getting any better at all. It’s a good goal, but perhaps not so realistic if you only plan to stay a year. But don’t be discouraged! You can improve a lot—if you try.
  • Only hang out with Spaniards—I understand your motivation. I do! But, to me, this goal reeks of snobbery. I mean, I understand you, in a way: you want to embrace Spanish life, to have an authentic experience. But, seriously, is only hanging out with Spaniards feasible for you? You know, it is kind of nice to have a person who empathizes with you. I found my American auxiliar friends to be of great help. They knew what I was going through, and we made time to “tomar un café” once a week or so.

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Hanging out with all Spaniards. Am I cool or what?

  • Travel all over Europe—It’s just not possible, tempting as it may sound. While you definitely should take advantage of your time to travel around Europe a bit, you should also find time to explore your own area and even visit other areas of Spain!

Since I now feel like a total aguafiestas, I want to assure you that it’s not all a “no” for me. I’m not an expert, but here’s what I think sound like good, reasonable goals for your time in Spain:

  • Make some Spanish friends—Do it! You don’t want to only hang out with English speakers. I mean, yeah, it’s cool that your friends are also from Britain and Canada, but you did go all the way to Spain, and it wasn’t just to hang out with people from Illinois. (But people from Illinois are cool! I swear.)
  • Improve your Spanish—You’re going to Spain. You should learn Spanish if you don’t know it. Likewise, you should improve if you already know the basics.
  • Get to know your own town or area—Like I said above, your town or area likely has a lot to offer. Zamora, where my husband is from, is not a place most guiris put on their to-visit lists. Nonetheless, it is an interesting city, and I’ve really enjoyed getting to know more about it over the years. Your town may not be Santiago de Compostela or Sevilla or Valencia, but it likely has something to offer.

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Exploring the province of Zamora: Toro’s wine festival.

  • Realize how capable you are: moving abroad, doing it all yourself—Maybe you’re just out of college, like I was, when I moved to Spain in 2009 to do an internship. I didn’t know anyone, but I packed all my stuff into one suitcase (how?), and landed in Salamanca in early September 2009. I had no idea that I’d meet my husband that very month, that I’d be moving back indefinitely in 2012 with a ring on my finger, that I’d have a family in Spain. I was alone, but I was capable. Moving abroad can be exciting, but it can also be scary. You’re doing it!

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Student, Auxiliar, Expat

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Do you remember study abroad? I’ve talked about it often, if only because it was the beginning of so many things (good, bad, and neutral) for me. It was the first time I set foot in Spain; it was the first time I felt overwhelmed by the idea of becoming fluent in another language; it was the first time I truly embraced my Americanness.

At La Fundación José Ortega y Gasset in 2008.

The next stage for me was being a Conversation and Language Assistant, una auxiliar de conversación. Being a C&LA was different than being a student. I had responsibilities other than studying. I had more bills to pay. I had to deal with a lot more bureaucracy (although not as much as some people).I felt much more alone than I had as a study abroad student, surrounded by scores of other naïve Americans like me. But still there was a built-in group of people I could make friends with, my fellow C&LAs in Zamora, where I was located. Together, we found common ground in complaining about the lack of respect shown by our students, being the token Americans everywhere we went, and laughing about the abundance of zapaterías (shoe stores).

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Now I find myself about to embark on a different sort of journey—one without a set end date, without a built-in group of fellow Americans, without a sense of surety. Daunting is a word that comes to mind. Sometimes I see the new(er) C&LAs and their blogs describe their countless trips, how they see Spain—and I see myself in them, but back in 2009. And obviously 2009 was not that long ago; I’m not saying that I’m infinitely more mature than them or anything of the sort. I’m only saying that we’re always changing, and I’ve changed since then, I’ve been altered by the transient nature of life.

My time in Spain has gone from student life to auxiliar life, to life life. No longer am I thinking, “Just until June” or “I can’t do that, because I’ll be gone by then.” Instead I’m thinking of work permits and marriage licenses and in-law dilemmas. I’m thinking of buying furniture and settling down and sending boxes across the Atlantic Ocean because when did I get this much stuff?

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It’s all his fault. Mario’s, that is.

Perhaps the more seasoned expats will smirk at me and my naïveté. Perhaps they’ll feel a bit of sympathy because I don’t know what I’m getting myself into (and I suppose I only have the faintest idea!). Perhaps they’ll view me with nostalgia—they remember their beginnings too, their first trembling steps into the “real world.” I cannot say how, in a few years (or decades), I’ll view the Kaley of 2012. I can only hope that the me of today will not allow herself to be intimidated, to say no, to live a fear-driven life.

Let’s go.

Of Little Significance

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Have you ever met someone who’s profoundly affected you and then lost contact? Of course you have; we all have. But there are probably dozens more people that—after all’s said and done—ended up as not-that-important. You know, the person you meet on the train or the airplane and have a fun conversation with, but soon forget about, except for every once in a while when you think, Hmm, I wonder what happened to her.

In Spain, I’ve had loads of those sorts of encounters:

  • The Korean lady who ran an alimentación shop in Toledo. Study abroad isn’t really about studying, in case you haven’t heard. Inside the walls of Toledo, there wasn’t even a Carrefour or Eroski, so we did all our late-night shopping there, buying liters of Mahou or boxes of Don Simón sangría.
  • Pablo, a Spaniard, who studied in Cologne. Pablo chose la Fundación José Ortega y Gasset (which we affectionately referred to as “The Fund,” pronounced with the long Spanish “u”) to stay during a vacation. I can’t even remember why anymore. We lived in a renovated convent, and, while it was located in a rather idyllic place, it was still a dorm. We talked about politics (why we had reelected George Bush and whether Obama would be elected), Spanish food, and studying. I don’t remember much else.

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A view from my room.

  • My first intercambio, Carlos. We were a true intercambio—we spoke one hour in English and one in Spanish. Always. He gave me my first insights into the true Spain, not just the idealized version I had read about in books.
  • My Spanish teacher in Salamanca. I can’t remember her name anymore. She at first thought I was horrific at Spanish, but soon realized I am just shy. She finally coaxed it out of me. When she heard I was dating a Spaniard, she told me, “¡Qué bien! Es la mejor manera de aprender un idioma.” Or something like that. I finished my classes with her and never saw her again, except once—through a window. She smiled knowingly, the kind of smile where you realize you don’t have much to say to the other person, but you had indeed shared something.
  • The waiters at this certain bar in Zamora. It was close to my house, comfortable, and free wifi. (Remember, in Spain it’s pronounced wee-fee.) I would usually head there in the late evening, grab una copa de Elías Mora for the ridiculously good price of 2€, and settle down for a nice Skype date (but maybe not as often as my mother would have liked).

People come and go; I’ve come and gone from several different places. We all change, and in some ways we all stay the same. I’m still me, after all. It’s jarring to think of these people, people I laughed with, ate with, talked with … existing somewhere out there without me. They live and go on. So do I.

Do you have these sorts of people in—well, out of—your life?

Say Hello to my Mother: Guest Post

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Before I let my mother take the reins, I’d just like to say that I hounded her to do this, and she finally obliged. She wants to be crazy rich and famous, so naturally that means she’ll get her start on Y Mucho Más. You may not realize this, but I’m, like, totally famous. (NOT.)

Here’s Donna. (You may also wish to read this entry, because she’s great.)

Funny how it seems like just yesterday we drove to Chicago to take Kaley to O’Hare airport for her first international flight. She was studying abroad in Toledo, Spain, for the spring semester of her junior year in college. She was so excited. I was jealous but happy for her. I loved the thought of going to Europe and living and studying in another culture. My friends and fellow parents often comment on how it seems that just one generation made the difference in the popular trend of traveling abroad. When I was growing up, it was rare for anyone unmarried or below the age of thirty (old enough to pay for an expensive trip on their own) to study abroad or even travel to another country.

As we said our goodbyes, Kaley never looked back. Her dad and I (especially her dad) had a few tears. I knew I was going to miss my daughter and she too would miss us. She was ready to go and experience the world. I was ready too, because I hoped she would learn to appreciate home.

Kaley made friends quickly, but in some of her early phone calls, she expressed her feelings of loneliness. Once we made definite plans for her father and I to travel to Spain during her “spring break,” she had something to look forward to and quickly acclimated herself to Spanish living. Our Skype discussions were filled with tales of travel and late night escapades. She told us that Spaniards ate dinner late and stayed out late. We found out it was definitely true on our first visit to Spain.

We flew to Spain during Holy Week (the week before Easter). We had the best tour guide, one named Kaley. I bragged that she was so good at Spanish and I insisted she was fluent. She adamantly argued with me that she was not, but two years when later we went back to Spain … she agreed with me that she was indeed fluent in Spanish.

In the late spring of her senior year of college, Kaley accepted an internship with a mission-based group in Salamanca, Spain. She was ready to return to Spain and live for the entire year. In early September we again drove her to Chicago with a one-way flight to Spain. She had insisted she wasn’t coming home for Christmas, as it was too expensive. By the time December rolled around, she had changed her mind and booked a ticket to be with her family during the holidays. We didn’t object too much.

In late September during one of our Skype visits, Kaley informed me that she “accidentally” flirted with a guy. She stated, “I don’t know what to do about it.” She wasn’t supposed to be dating anyone during the internship, per the rules of her workplace. I thought she sounded genuinely concerned that she broke the rules. However, she later was rather pleased that she had broken the rule. In a few short weeks she called to say she was dating this awesome, cute Spanish guy. She was swooning over the phone. As I am a mom, I quickly warned her that dating someone from another country could become very complicated. I think she reverted back to being a teenager at that moment. She exclaimed, ”Oh Mom, that is silly, it is just the same as dating someone in the US.” My response was to quietly say a prayer, as I had always done as I watched her grow up. I asked God to bless whatever was in His will and please don’t break my little girl’s heart. God must have had Mario in His plan because two years later he’s stuck around.

Still here, two years later.

Kaley has spent about two years off and on in Spain. There have been ups and downs. She has been homesick, she has spent more time in the Madrid airport than anyone should have to, and she’s learned to live without the things she loves here in the States. She has been taken into and loved by a wonderful Spanish man and his family. She has learned to cook delicious Spanish food. She has traveled to many places in Europe and learned to appreciate the wonderful history and culture of Spain and the rest of Europe.

This culture includes cheese. Lots of cheese.

As I contemplate the future, I know that Kaley is in good hands. She loves her Spanish family and cannot say enough good things about them. I feel good when I know Kaley has “parents” in Spain. Jesús and Pepita worry about her when I’m not there to do it [Kaley: and cook for me too!]. When she is not in Spain, she misses them like she would miss her family if she were away from them. I want to thank Kaley for bringing Mario into our family. It wouldn’t be the same without him. We feel like we have gained a son as well as a new country.

(Sorry so blurry.)

L-R: Mario, Jesús (Mario’s dad), Randy (my dad), Pepita (Mario’s mom), Carol (my grandma), Donna (my mom), Richard (my grandpa), me

College Study Abroad—If I Could Do It All Again

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I get a lot of emails regarding study abroad and applying to be an auxiliar de conversación. Understandably so, as I talk a lot about Spain and my experiences there and how I feel now that I’m back home. People ask for recommendations of places to eat, drink, and see the sights. I’m definitely happy to (try to) help them out, but I often wish I could give them a list of general advice …without sounding stuck up. My biggest piece of advice is to put yourself out there and go study abroad! It truly is an experience that every college student should experience. Even a student working on an online bachelor degree should pack their computer and experience another country. With the world as connected as it is today, we can often forget the value of experiencing places in person. I feel a bit sorry for all the people who attend college online through an online college program or students attending smaller schools that don’t offer study abroad opportunities. Beyond this obvious piece of advice, I had difficulty coming up with my own recommendations of what to see and experience. And then I realized what I…

First day in Spain. Ever.

would like to tell Kaley (age twenty-one).

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  • Life in Spain is just that: life. It may be life in Europe, but you still have to do your laundry, write papers, and go grocery shopping.
  • You will walk. A lot. In the U.S., walking distances longer than to and from your car, especially in winter, is not common. This will change. You will walk everywhere—in the pouring rain, in dreadful heat, when you’re tired, when you’re not, when you are hung over, when you’ve got a caffeine withdrawal headache … you will walk.
  • You will make embarrassing mistakes. You will make mistakes that are not embarrassing as well. Live; learn; deal with it.
  • You will eat a lot of pork products. It’s really unavoidable.
  • You will feel frustrated and realize your Spanish has a long way to go. This is okay. This is normal. Embrace it, and realize that the only place to go is up. A note: you will not be fluent by the end of your study abroad journey unless you left for Spain with an absurdly high level. This too is just fine.
  • You will feel like a foreigner. Um, you area foreigner. Yes, you—all 5’11”, pale, freckled, American-faced you. You aren’t Spanish, and people might automatically switch to English when they hear your accent.
  • You will be homesick at times. You might just be more homesick than other people. This does not make you weak or lame or any of those other negative words that haunt you as you try to fall asleep. You may struggle at times—with the language, with the culture, with the schedule—but you will come out stronger on the other end.
  • You will feel disconnected from home. Life, like it or not, will go on without you. Your parents will buy new furniture. Your former roommate will bond with someone new. Your car may not be around when you get home. (Yes, this happened to me in 2009. Blame my brother.) You may get on Facebook and ask yourself, Who are these people?
  • You will worry about money. Yes, some people will travel every weekend—London, Rome, Paris, Greece, Morocco, Lisbon. Save your money. Travel where you have always dreamed of going. Remember that there is value in staying home, visiting your bar, walking the streets of your new (albeit temporary) home.
  • You will go home and feel nostalgic. When you return, whether or not you experience reverse culture shock, you will remember how you felt. You will remember the smell of incense in the cathedral, the taste of tinto de verano, the sight of Toledo across the river, the feel of your scratchy comforter as you fell asleep in a city older than your own country. You will listen to songs that make you cry, remembering what you had there, realizing you’ll never get that back. Be okay with this, this nostalgia of yours. It’s fine to miss it.

Life goes on, but you’ll remember.

Entry written because I’m totally nostalgic right now. Please forgive me.

My 7 Links

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I’ve gotten better at understanding the secret of getting comments and/or viewers. But still, sometimes I wish people would appreciate some of my more undervalued work (as I see it, anyway). Thus, when Gillian nominated me for TripBase’s Seven Links Project, I was rather excited to re-post a few of my more interesting posts.

As Katie says on her post, “The idea is simple: bloggers publish 7 links from their blog to share lessons learned and create a bank of long but not forgotten blog posts that deserve to see the light of day again.”

So without further ado, here are my seven:

  1. My most beautiful post – Lucky. I don’t think I have a post with great pictures. I was without a camera for a long while and I just don’t have the patience to take good pictures with my trusty old point and shoot. Thus, I selected my most beautiful post because it was about the most beautiful person I know. (I know. Sappy.) I also don’t think this post about my mother is half bad either.
  2. My most popular post – How to Dress Like a Spaniard.According to my site statistics, this post has gotten the most views. Not surprisingly, I get many hits from search terms such as “how to dress like a spaniard” and “dress like a spaniard.” I hope I helped. Personally, I prefer my Lululemon yoga shorts.
  3. My most controversial post – 15 Rules to Thrive in Spain. I think I probably wrote this right after one of my rather OCD roommates chastised me for using her spoon. No, that is not a typo, she was mad at me for using a spoon I found in the cutlery drawer. So, Spaniards, if I admit I wrote this post partly of out frustration, will you forgive me? And perhaps admit a few of these things are true. If I were a more popular blogger, this post probably would have elicited more than a few disdainful remarks. I imagine most of my offended readers kept their cutting comments to themselves. I think Mario even politely disagreed with a few of them.
  4. My most helpful post – Tapeando.
    Americans just do not understand or appreciate the art of tapas. People say to me, “But aren’t you hungry after a dinner of just snacks?” I want to a) scream, b) roll my eyes, and c) direct them to this post ASAP. Luckily for you, you can read it before you say anything annoying. Also, I miss going for tapas like nobody’s business.
  5. A post whose success surprised me – Piropos.I wrote this on a whim, and partly out of frustration. I also thought it might make me sound a bit stuck up. Like, here’s this girl complaining about men complimenting her. White Girl Problems, anyone? But it turns out that a lot of women who visit Spain and, hey, those who live there experience this on a weekly, if not daily, basis. I like how many of us also recognize that someday that flow of piropos is gonna stop, and we might be a bit sad.
  6. A post I feel didn’t get the attention it deserved – About Study Abroad.I wrote this because I feel like study abroad could be a really, really good thing. Learning a new language, learning about a new culture, branching out, living in an unknown place? All good things, things that stretch us and make us grow. However, I see so many American students in Spain just partying and/or traveling to another country every weekend. Don’t get me wrong, traveling is good, but I think true cultural immersion is a much loftier (albeit more difficult) goal.
  7. The post I am most proud of – Champions – And It’s Not a Dream. I really enjoyed writing this post, and I still find its language beautiful. I hope you don’t think that makes me stuck up.
You’re supposed to nominate other bloggers, so I’m nominating you guys (gals?):
I hope you enjoyed my seven links (or re-enjoyed them for some of my more longtime readers)!

Bilingual

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When I first went to Spain in the spring of 2008, I expected to come back “fluent,” whatever that means. I thought being in a Spanish-speaking country automatically equaled fluency. How wrong I was.

 

Study abroad didn’t do a whole lot for my Spanish skills. Honestly, they were a lot of English speakers and English speaking is just too easy. I had intercambios, conversation exchange partners, but that was only a few times per week and language immersion requires more than that.

I came back home with better Spanish skills, but nowhere near fluent. My senior year was spent wanting more. I was frustrated by the lack of Spanish opportunities in Indiana. I decided to go back.

By chance, when I went back in September, I met this boy.

He happens to speak perfect Spanish, too. Weird coincidence as he’s Spanish, huh? He really is the reason for my level of Spanish today. Whenever I have a “doubt,” as they say in Spanish, I ask him. He’s like my own personal WordReference in the flesh,  but I can actually touch him, see him, talk to him, listen to him.

I have improved 100% in the last few years. This is due to a combination of reasons: hard work, luck, ability, environment…but the number one reason? His name is Mario. His unending patience with me is “to blame.” Time with native speakers is often the key. Well, Mario is my native speaker. He is unendingly patient, unendingly willing to answer the questions that arise as I read the newspaper. I cannot be more grateful for that.

I often get nervous when I speak Spanish. It’s part of my personality. But sometimes, just once in a while, my Spanish seems flawless, my accent non-existent. Who do I owe this to? Mario. Speaking to him, listening to him, asking him hundreds of questions…all those things helped me to be the Spanish speaker I am today. Thanks, love. I promise to help you achieve this in English, although it will be nowhere near as much work. Your English is already pretty flawless. After all, in London, you had to be the interpeter….that English English was so confusing.

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Why I’m Not Cool Enough for Reverse Culture Shock

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  • Culture shock – n., the feeling of disorientation experienced by someone who is suddenly subjected to an unfamiliar culture, way of life, or set of attitudes.
  • Reverse culture shock – n., the culture shock an individual experiences upon returning to their home country after living abroad.

You may hear me talk a lot about culture shock. I’ve been through my fair share, involving a variety of different circumstances and customs – manners, eating hours, eating habits, the gym, familial relations, etc. When I was preparing for to go to Toledo in 2008, they gave us loads of materials having to do with culture shock, including a diagram similar to the following one. I’ve studied the diagram again and again and I still don’t think I’ve ever gone through these stages, at least in order. And, at least to me, it’s frustrating. Am I that abnormal? Everyone else experiences this stages, at least to some degree, or so it seems.

  • I’ve never went through the so-called “honeymoon stage,” wherein everything is new, interesting, and exciting. WTF? I want it, yet realistically I know it’s no longer possible. When I first arrived in Spain, everything was scary and I was homesick. Right away. Add jet lag to that and you get a miserable Kaley who spent way too much time in a tiny room that smelled of rust.
  • At stage 5 on this diagram, it says: “You see the host as your new home and don’t wish to depart or leave new friends.” Nope. Nope, I always want to depart…I have friends here. I mean, the love of my life is here, but still, I want to leave. Why is this?
  • As far as stage 6, yes, I am always excited to return home.
  • In stage 7, it says you may feel “frustrated, angry, or lonely because friends and family don’t understand what you experienced and how you changed. You miss the host culture…” No. No, my parents try to understand as best they can and, honestly, I don’t care if my friends and family don’t “get” it. I don’t expect them to get everything anyway. We are different. Weird fact, I know.
  • I hope I do do number 9, incorporating what I learn(ed) into my new life and career.

But still, reverse culture shock? What is that? And why am I not cool enough to have it?!

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America, here I come. In 8 days. No culture shock for me.

(Disclaimer: my one “shock” could be that I refuse to eat lunch any earlier than 1:30 and dinner before 8. I can’t do it.)