Reliving Spain
I will always have a special place for Spain in my heart. I think about it pretty regularly, when I’m working with my clients from Madrid, or when I see status updates from my host sister and/or friends I made there.
One dear friend in particular messaged me the other day and we reminisced a little, which then made me pull out my scrapbook. Memories started flooding back. Memories I’ll probably forget someday. So, I thought I’d capture some of them here. After all, it’s far more interesting than anything else right now.
11 years ago almost to the day, I was on a plane to Madrid, kicking off the start of an amazing 6 months abroad. I had high expectations for this experience, and it did not disappoint. We were met by our program staff (one of which turned out to also be my host sister), toured around Madrid, and then made our way to our final destination: Granada.
Oh Granada. This city is so charming and stunning and full of more history and culture than most Americans could imagine. You could go from the beach to the snowcapped mountains within an hour. Cobblestone streets, Moorish architecture, the Sierra Nevada Mountains, gypsy caves, sangria and tapas, flamenco music… I could go on and on. Doesn’t it sound gorgeous? If only I had had my SLR camera at that time. Sigh.
We had a thing called film back then, so all of my photos are cut and pasted into a scrapbook - so Google images will have to do.
My host family was better than I could have asked for. My host mother became our motherly caretaker almost immediately. She was a very talented artist and took us up into the mountains when she went there to paint. She made sure we were well fed, laundry was done, and always found time to chat and gossip. My host father was kind and funny and a typical business man. He had a goatee with hair that was at least 4 inches long, which he blow-dried and fluffed and fanned out daily. It was quite remarkable. My host mother wore the same blue sweater with stars and my host father a gray sweat suit all the time in the house, but if they had to run downstairs (we were in an apartment complex) for eggs or milk, they’d get dressed up. It’s funny the things I remember.
My 2 American roommates were awesome. We got along right off the bat and made each other laugh SO much. One was a picky eater, so the other girl and I would try to sneak her food off her plate and eat it so as not to offend our host mother. (She still figured it out but only made fun of her pickiness). We were served a lot of pan (bread) at every meal, which became the source of many jokes. I shared a room with one of my roommates, and our twin beds were pushed next to each other in the middle of the room like a double bed. Awkward at first, but it became no big deal (and had our own sets of bedding). We often made our third roommate lay in the crack in the middle (which also became the source of many jokes) as we’d nap during siesta.
Oh siestas. Seriously, the Spanish way of life is the best. Classes were anywhere from 9am – 1pm. Our classes were entirely in Spanish, which only now do I really comprehend how incredible that was. I took notes in Spanish, I learned about Spanish art and history and literature…in Spanish. My professors swore and joked and hosted parties at the school. They were great.
After morning class, we had a 15 minute walk home for a huge lunch with our host parents (but our host mother never sat at the table with us as she was too busy serving us). Then siesta time until 3:30 or so, where we sometimes napped, sometimes went to enjoy sunshine at the nearby park, and sometimes bought candy from the store downstairs and ate ourselves silly in fits of laughter. Off to class again around 4 – 7pm depending on the day, and then we were off to a bar for sangria and tapas with our friends (almost daily). Tapas were mandated to be free in Granada if you buy a drink, which was just about the coolest thing we could imagine at the time. We’d head home around 8:30, have a light(ish) dinner, then watch Spain’s version of American Idol with the family, and bed by 11.
It was refreshing to have that afternoon siesta time for “me time.” Shops were closed, banks were closed, schools were closed…we had no choice but to relax, spend time with the family, etc. Or catch up on homework.
Our host mother, unlike some other traditional Spanish women, allowed us into the kitchen. That might seem strange, but I had friends there that had to ask if they wanted anything to eat or drink. We could help ourselves as we wished, but besides bringing my plate to the sink, as our table was in the living room, I usually only went in to get digestive crackers for a snack (the best pantry item they had). There was a cured pig’s leg sitting on the counter (very typical) but I never got up the courage to slice off a piece for myself.
I also made some really great friends in our program, most of which were Americans, but I had plenty of Spanish practice with everyone else. We went out for sangria a lot. We found our favorite schwarma place (similar to gyros) and quickly became regulars. We attended several all-night city-wide festivities in the plazas. We rented a car and traveled to Portugal, where we somehow ended up staying in the spare bedrooms of this adorable Portuguese man and attended a party with a bunch of Portuguese men we’d met. We attended a bullfight and waved our white handkerchiefs like the rest of them (while cringing). We bought chocolate croissants and drank tea at the Arabic teterías like the best of them. We took the ferry to Morocco, Africa, and bargained for Moroccan rugs and rode camels on the beach. We went up to the caves of Sacromonte and watched people dance flamenco. We visited an Arabic bath house, where we bathed and got massages as they did back in the 11th century. We traveled south to the Rock of Gibraltar where we had fun snapping photos of all the monkeys that freely inhabit the island. We visited the “Wonder of the World” Alhambra, the fortress/palace of the last Muslims in Spain from the 800s, a few times and enjoyed seeing its grandiose structure sit high overlooking the city.
My study abroad experience was incredible. I learned a lot, enjoyed a lot, and made great friendships.
I wish that more people had the opportunity to experience a new culture, even if for a smaller period of time. Being immersed in something different has opened my eyes, and my outlook, and I feel like I’m better for it. There is so much we can learn from other people.
One of the best decisions I ever made.
Who wants to go to Spain?!
One dear friend in particular messaged me the other day and we reminisced a little, which then made me pull out my scrapbook. Memories started flooding back. Memories I’ll probably forget someday. So, I thought I’d capture some of them here. After all, it’s far more interesting than anything else right now.
11 years ago almost to the day, I was on a plane to Madrid, kicking off the start of an amazing 6 months abroad. I had high expectations for this experience, and it did not disappoint. We were met by our program staff (one of which turned out to also be my host sister), toured around Madrid, and then made our way to our final destination: Granada.
Oh Granada. This city is so charming and stunning and full of more history and culture than most Americans could imagine. You could go from the beach to the snowcapped mountains within an hour. Cobblestone streets, Moorish architecture, the Sierra Nevada Mountains, gypsy caves, sangria and tapas, flamenco music… I could go on and on. Doesn’t it sound gorgeous? If only I had had my SLR camera at that time. Sigh.
We had a thing called film back then, so all of my photos are cut and pasted into a scrapbook - so Google images will have to do.
My host family was better than I could have asked for. My host mother became our motherly caretaker almost immediately. She was a very talented artist and took us up into the mountains when she went there to paint. She made sure we were well fed, laundry was done, and always found time to chat and gossip. My host father was kind and funny and a typical business man. He had a goatee with hair that was at least 4 inches long, which he blow-dried and fluffed and fanned out daily. It was quite remarkable. My host mother wore the same blue sweater with stars and my host father a gray sweat suit all the time in the house, but if they had to run downstairs (we were in an apartment complex) for eggs or milk, they’d get dressed up. It’s funny the things I remember.
My 2 American roommates were awesome. We got along right off the bat and made each other laugh SO much. One was a picky eater, so the other girl and I would try to sneak her food off her plate and eat it so as not to offend our host mother. (She still figured it out but only made fun of her pickiness). We were served a lot of pan (bread) at every meal, which became the source of many jokes. I shared a room with one of my roommates, and our twin beds were pushed next to each other in the middle of the room like a double bed. Awkward at first, but it became no big deal (and had our own sets of bedding). We often made our third roommate lay in the crack in the middle (which also became the source of many jokes) as we’d nap during siesta.
Oh siestas. Seriously, the Spanish way of life is the best. Classes were anywhere from 9am – 1pm. Our classes were entirely in Spanish, which only now do I really comprehend how incredible that was. I took notes in Spanish, I learned about Spanish art and history and literature…in Spanish. My professors swore and joked and hosted parties at the school. They were great.
After morning class, we had a 15 minute walk home for a huge lunch with our host parents (but our host mother never sat at the table with us as she was too busy serving us). Then siesta time until 3:30 or so, where we sometimes napped, sometimes went to enjoy sunshine at the nearby park, and sometimes bought candy from the store downstairs and ate ourselves silly in fits of laughter. Off to class again around 4 – 7pm depending on the day, and then we were off to a bar for sangria and tapas with our friends (almost daily). Tapas were mandated to be free in Granada if you buy a drink, which was just about the coolest thing we could imagine at the time. We’d head home around 8:30, have a light(ish) dinner, then watch Spain’s version of American Idol with the family, and bed by 11.
It was refreshing to have that afternoon siesta time for “me time.” Shops were closed, banks were closed, schools were closed…we had no choice but to relax, spend time with the family, etc. Or catch up on homework.
Our host mother, unlike some other traditional Spanish women, allowed us into the kitchen. That might seem strange, but I had friends there that had to ask if they wanted anything to eat or drink. We could help ourselves as we wished, but besides bringing my plate to the sink, as our table was in the living room, I usually only went in to get digestive crackers for a snack (the best pantry item they had). There was a cured pig’s leg sitting on the counter (very typical) but I never got up the courage to slice off a piece for myself.
I also made some really great friends in our program, most of which were Americans, but I had plenty of Spanish practice with everyone else. We went out for sangria a lot. We found our favorite schwarma place (similar to gyros) and quickly became regulars. We attended several all-night city-wide festivities in the plazas. We rented a car and traveled to Portugal, where we somehow ended up staying in the spare bedrooms of this adorable Portuguese man and attended a party with a bunch of Portuguese men we’d met. We attended a bullfight and waved our white handkerchiefs like the rest of them (while cringing). We bought chocolate croissants and drank tea at the Arabic teterías like the best of them. We took the ferry to Morocco, Africa, and bargained for Moroccan rugs and rode camels on the beach. We went up to the caves of Sacromonte and watched people dance flamenco. We visited an Arabic bath house, where we bathed and got massages as they did back in the 11th century. We traveled south to the Rock of Gibraltar where we had fun snapping photos of all the monkeys that freely inhabit the island. We visited the “Wonder of the World” Alhambra, the fortress/palace of the last Muslims in Spain from the 800s, a few times and enjoyed seeing its grandiose structure sit high overlooking the city.
My study abroad experience was incredible. I learned a lot, enjoyed a lot, and made great friendships.
I wish that more people had the opportunity to experience a new culture, even if for a smaller period of time. Being immersed in something different has opened my eyes, and my outlook, and I feel like I’m better for it. There is so much we can learn from other people.
One of the best decisions I ever made.
Who wants to go to Spain?!
I admire you so much for all the adventures you have had. What a great way to live life!
ReplyDeleteTwo things - yes I want to go to Spain and I really wish Afternoon Siesta's happened here! Sounds like you had a great time. I regret not doing something like this when I had the chance. I will be pushing my boys to travel some more when they have the opportunities cause once you are tied down with a job and family and so many bills it ins't as easy to do! Thanks for sharing your story, Spain sounds wonderful and those pictures are beautiful (just think of the fun we could have there now with our cameras)! I think I might have to blog about my Europe adventure sometime soon before I forget all about it (it has already been 13 years)!!
ReplyDeleteMe.
ReplyDeleteLooooooved reading this post buddy. :)