Tag Archives: Toledo

Holy Toledo!—Attractions in Spain’s Former Capital

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Toledo from afar / Toledo desde lejos

The Alcázar, as seen from afar

Toledo entrance / Entrando en Toledo

Walking up one of Toledo’s many hills to the city entrance

Flowering trees Toledo / Árbol floreciendo Toledo

Trees are beginning to bloom

Cristo de la Luz Museum Toledo / Museo de Cristo de la Luz

Mosque of Cristo de la Luz

Santa Cruz Museum Toledo / Museo de Santa Cruz Toledo

Museo de Santa Cruz

Santa Cruz Museum Toledo / Museo de Santa Cruz Toledo

 

Toledo Cathedral / Catedral de Toledo

Toledo Cathedral / Catedral de Toledo

Iglesia de San Ildefonso (Los Jesuitas)

San Ildefonso Church / Iglesia de San Ildefonos (Los Jesuitas)

From San Ildefonso’s mirador de las Torres, one can see all of Toledo.

Alcázar de Toledo noche / Toledo Alcázar night

Toledo Alcazar / Alcázar de Toledo

Located at the highest point in Toledo and once used as a Roman palace, the alcázar was held by the Nationalists under great siege by the Republican army. Today it is the site of the Army Museum.

San Juan de los Reyes Musem Toledo / Museo de San Juan de los Reyes Toledo

San Juan de los Reyes Musem Toledo / Museo de San Juan de los Reyes Toledo

Have you heard of Los Reyes Católicos? If not, you must not have visited many places in Spain, because they are everywhere. The Catholic monarchs, Ferdinand II of Aragon and Isabella I of Castile, are often credited with the unification of Spain after the Reconquista.

Isabella and Ferdinand built this monastery to celebrate the birth of their son and their victory in an important battle. It was initially meant to be their eventual mausoleum, but they changed their mind and were later buried in Granada.

Tanto monta, monta tanto

Tanto monta, monta tanto, the Catholic monarchs’ motto

Of course, Isabella and Ferdinand had a motto: Tanto monta, monta tanto, Isabel como Fernando. What it means: Isabella and Ferdinand were equals. All along the ceilings in San Juan de los Reyes, you can find their initials (F for Fernando and Y for Isabel, as Y was used in the old Spanish).

San Juan de los Reyes

San Juan de los Reyes

Tagus River Toledo / El Río Tajo Toledo

Tagus River Toledo / El Río Tajo Toledo

The Tagus River is the longest in the Iberian peninsula, beginning in central Spain and emptying into the Atlantic ocean near Lisbon, Portugal. Its impact can be heard in Portuguese songs and stories: “My hair getting white, the Tagus is always young.”

Kaley Mucho Más Toledo

Toledo will always have a special place in my heart. I studied abroad there as a 21-year-old junior in college, and its narrow streets hold a mystique that hasn’t been diminished by the years. I still love wandering in and out of shops, catching a glimpse of the Middle Ages or the Renaissance or the Gothic. I love hearing the cathedral bells chimes, eating marzipan, and wondering at the beauty of a city quite unchanged by the passage of time.

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Drinking Domus in Toledo

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Put down that Mahou. Right now.

Mahou

I mean it. Put it down.

Newsflash for all you non-beer drinkers: Mahou, Spain’s most popular beer, is not that good. Most large-scale Spanish beer isn’t that good. (But never fear, Spain! Neither is large-scale U.S. beer.) For example: San Miguel, Estrella Damm, or Cruzcampo. (Cat, please don’t kill me for this statement, and I promise I will buy you all the Cruzcampo you want.) The one good thing it’s got going for it is that it’s refreshing. Mmm, watery beer. According to this review,

I can’t find anything that would distinguish it from a hundred others … Well, maybe one thing—it’s way too gassy for my liking … It’s refreshing enough if served ice cold and as it’s pretty inoffensive … bland even.

But good news, Spaniards and expats living in Spain! Not all is lost. The microbrewery craze is finally hitting Spanish shores (and inland, too). If you don’t know, a microbrewery is a brewery that produces beer on a small scale. For instance, in my favorite town of Bloomington, IN, a great microbrewery is Upland. In Madrid, there are several new(ish) breweries around. In Madrid, I have had La Cibeles and Lest.

But better than both of those was a beer I had this weekend while on a trip to Toledo:

Domus

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Domus is a handcrafted beer from Toledo. The name Domus means “home” in Latin and refers to its homemade quality. On the beer’s logo you can see the two-headed eagle from Toledo’s coat of arms.

Domus was launched in 2009 in Toledo’s modest Santa Barbara neighborhood by Fernando Campoy. Campoy had been a beer fan from a young age, and the idea of launching his own company came to him about five years before he began Domus. Thus, he set out to learn and research by talking to different brewmasters from around the world and visiting microbreweries in order to learn and understand every possible detail of the process.

Mario and I tried two beers, the Regia and the Summa. However, we are excited to try more of the varieties soon!

Domus Regia

Domus Regia

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Domus Regia, Mario’s favorite, is a classic: everyone will like it. As a toasted and top-fermented beer, the roasted malt shines through. With 4.3% ABV, the Regia is a lovely shade of amber, and its turbid appearance is due to the yeast, which is suspended in the beer, as it is not filtered.

Given its smoothness and balance, this beer could accompany just about any meal or snack, as it is able to balance high-contrast foods as well as enhance the aromas and flavors of otherwise relatively bland foods (white fish, soft cheeses, etc.).

Domus Summa

Domus Summa

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Domus Summa, my favorite, is not for the faint of heart or for those who don’t like beer. Its higher alcohol content (7.2% ABV) makes it a rather more complex beer than the Regia. The Summa is brewed with roasted malt, but it’s the touch of honey that gives it a subtle sweetness in both its aroma and taste. Its style could be compared to the Belgian abbey ales. It’s also darker than its sister beer, more of a dark-brown burgundy shade.

Unlike the Belgian abbey ales, however, the Summa is not quite as full bodied as one would expect. It is, perhaps surprisingly, quite easy to drink despite its 7.2% ABV. It would go quite well with strongly flavored dishes, like jamón or chorizo, stews, or red meat—not to mention chocolate!

Domus Aurea

Domus Aurea

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Domus Aurea, which we did not try, is an India Pale Ale (IPA). In the 19th century, the English found themselves in need of a beer that would last the whole voyage from England to India. Thus, they came up with a beer with lots of hops and alcohol, which allowed the beers to stay good on the long journey. Nonetheless, the Aurea has rather lower levels of hops and bitterness than a typical IPA. Its scent is very spicy, with the hops being very present. Its lightweight body and carbonation make it a beer that is very easy to drink.

As with Regia, it can be enjoyed with a variety of dishes, from fresh cheeses to desserts.

Domus Greco

Domus Greco

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Domus is also launching a beer for the fourth centenary of El Greco. If you don’t know, El Greco (literally “The Greek”), was born in Greece and resided in both Venice and Rome, but he set up shop in Toledo in 1577, spending the rest of his life there. In that time, Toledo was the religious capital of Spain and one of the greatest cities in Europe. El Greco painted some of his best and most famous pieces there, including El entierro del señor de Orgaz (in English: The Burial of the Count of Orgaz).

Where Can I Find It?

Unfortunately, I think that Domus is only available in the Toledo area or online (with high shipping costs to boot!), so it’s not easily accessible. Nonetheless, if you happen to visiting Toledo for a weekend—it’s a great day trip from Madrid!—stop by one of the many establishments that sell it and enjoy un tercio (33 centiliters) or una caña (draft, smaller portion).

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.

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

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)!

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.)

Greener Grass

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So, I’ve told you the things that annoy me. Why don’t I tell you about the enchanting parts? Here, a post in pictures and in words.

Must I say more? The coffee here is good. I love the richness of the espresso, the whole milk, delicate little glasses and spoons.

Plaza Mayor, Salamanca HDR

The breathtaking beauty of Salamanca.

The walkability. It’s nice to be able to walk, not drive, to appointments, to the grocery store, to a restaurant…

Good memories of great towns like Toledo. I will never forget Spring 2008 there.

What? Are you surprised I’m writing about wine? Good wine, that is. Way cheaper in the U.S. You can get seriously good wine for less than €10. Way less.

My Spanish abuelos. They are everywhere, and they are adorable. They walk with their hands clasped behind their back and say funny things to you if you happen to be running in one of “their” parks. I got told I’d catch a cold by one of them once. I wasn’t surprised. Pepita (Mario’s mother) had probably put them up to it.

Learning Spanish. As much as I piss and moan about it, I am grateful. There is nothing like living in a foreign country to really get a handle on the language.

Seeing what a real, everyday Spanish family is like. Different, and not so different than mine. (P.S. The above picture is the President of Spain, Zapatero, with his two daughters. Goth?)

I’ve already gotten all mushy on you (twice!), so I won’t go there again. But…I really came here to Spain to be with this boy that I kinda sorta dig, ya know? I think he’s worth it, and that makes Spain more beautiful than it could ever have been without him here.

The grass isn’t always greener, at least I hope not. Living here, I’d say the grass is just fine.

About Study Abroad

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I owe a lot to my study abroad experience.

Toledo Alcazar

This whole “Spain thing,” if you will, started about three years ago in the fall of 2007, when I took the first steps toward applying to a program in Toledo, Spain. I had been studying Spanish since I was a 15 year-old sophomore in high school. From the very beginning, I loved it – Spanish, that is. In school, we learned Latin American Spanish, didn’t even bother with a verb form called vosotros, the second person plural. (It’s like our “you guys.”) The teachers scoffed, telling us, “You’ll never use it.” Well, they were right – in something like 95% of the cases. The other 5% of us did need it. My friend Lauren went to Spain in the summer of 2007, half a year before me. She certainly needed it. She had to learn the Spanish pronunciation, slang, vocabulary.

I’d no desire whatsoever to go to Latin America. If you look at this post, you’ll see that, unfortunately, on the coolness scale, Europe ranks low. “It is also important that you understand the study abroad ranking system.  Europe/Australia form the base level, then Asia, then South America, and finally the trump card of studying abroad in Tibet.  Then there is the conversation killer of studying abroad in Africa.” Yeah, I obviously did not care. I had always dreamed of Spain, its ancient cathedrals and winding streets, its Castilian allure. (I later learned about the ham.) So, Spain it was. Before my arrival, I had dreams of fluency, millions of Spanish friends, and a ticket back after graduation. I’d no idea most study abroad programs are designed for two things: travel and partying.

Travel: It’s nice if your daddy’s rich because, my dear, if not, your weekends will be spent in relative solitude. You see, all the other students have money enough to travel (almost) every weekend. They’ll go to Rome to eat gelato, Paris to climb the Eiffel Tower, London to mock the Palace guards, Prague to seem oh so Bohemian, and Amsterdam to discreetly (or not so discreetly) smoke pot in a “coffee” shop. I went to Lisbon one weekend and was shocked at the cost. Traveling to and from the airports is what kills you. It’s the unexpected, lurking cost that sneaks up behind you, wraps its bony fingers around your mouth, and silently chokes you. So, the best thing is if Daddy gives you $10,000 upfront.

Partying: Did you know the drinking age is lower in Europe? There is alcohol, and lots of it. In Spain, there is even the phenomenon known as botellón, where the collge/high school age students gather outside to drink out of 2-liter Fanta bottles mixed with cheap vodka or whisky. Since school is easy (usually), partying happens. And when I say happens, I am implying a conscious effort to party 5 days out of the week. You are in Europe, for God’s sake. Drink until you can’t see straight -it’s only natural. Plus, it perpetuates the ugly American stereotype and we can’t have that dying out, now can we?

But really. The main problem with studying abroad is the lack of contact with the local culture. It seems quite silly. You are in another country and yet you hang out with Americans. You can see them any day, walking along your campus’ tree-lined pathways. But you choose, time and again, to spend time with people who don’t speak the target language and aren’t that interesting anyway. This, I believe, is study abroad’s fundamental problem. We try to make students stay with families, but this system fails too. In Spain, the families are paid, naturally, and many do it for the money, not to introduce a foreign student into the local culture. It’s a shame, really, because knowing one Spaniard intimately can get you in the back door of Spain. (I do love Rick Steves.)

So, how do we solve this? I don’t really know. It’s frightening enough to put 20 year-olds in a foreign culture with 30 other companions. To put them somewhere completely alone? I don’t think it would work. But there has to be another way.

Alternately, you could just do what I did. Find a significant other. Best way to learn a language and a culture.

Why Did You Go?

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I was born in Podunk, Indiana. I love my hometown, but it’s not worldly. I grew up sheltered and went to college at a small, private Christian school. After a year, I realized such an environment was counterintuitive to my own ideals. I decided to go to Indiana University Bloomington. It was a great place, full of local food, ethnic restaurants, and diversity. It was still in Indiana, but it was honestly the best place for me. I blossomed there. In the spring of 2008, I went to study abroad in Toledo, Spain.

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It was a life-changing experience. I loved speaking Spanish, being on my own, experiencing new things. I admit, I was a bit homesick, a fact to which my mother can readily attest. Yet I knew there was something, however deep down the sentiment might have been.

I came back and spent my senior year thinking of my future and Spain. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I desperately wanted to improve my Spanish and learn to survive on my own. So, I decided to do an internship in Salamanca in the fall of 2009. I moved there, knowing no one, and started to work.

Unfortunately, the internship didn’t work out. But my relationship with Spain did. I met Mario. I fell in love. I got way better at Spanish. I went through an ordeal that no one should go through. I still came back. I applied for a job through the Spanish government and they said YES.

I thank you, Spain, for being a country that still accepts me, even if I try to enter without any good reason. I thank you for producing Mario. I thank you for jamón serrano. I thank you for good red wine.

I’m returning. I don’t think I’ll regret it.