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An Apostolic Abroad: The Rain in Spain... The “study abroad” world is not foreign to me. I studied abroad in Spain one time before, for a month, two summers ago. I got six credit hours of Spanish classes at an institute for Americans learning Spanish and went home craving more. With the help of God, I was able to get enough money through scholarships so that I could return to the same place, studying at the same institute, staying with the same host family, but now, for an entire semester! I’m majoring in Language Arts and Spanish Secondary Education at the University of Alabama, and I’m getting even more credits toward the Spanish part. I arrived on January 4, stayed with a friend for a couple of days, and then moved in with my lovely host family in a city near Madrid called Alcalá de Henares. I thought it would be a good idea to create a blog to share my experiences with family and friends and whoever else on the World Wide Web would like to partake. Here are a few excerpts from my blog to give you a feel of the life of an Apostolic female abroad in Spain! 05 January 2004 Monday The Adventure
Begins We finally arrived at the house where his mother graciously made us breakfast after he lugged my stuff up a flight of stairs. Quite an undertaking. After a bit we went to Madrid and I met up with some of his friends and we all walked around the city, saw all of the Christmas lights (Spanish Christmas isn’t over until January 6th), and went to Ben and Jerry’s. How we ate ice cream on such a cold, cold night, who knows? But before that, we went to El Corte Ingles so that I could buy a SIM card for my phone. Drama ensued. This lady springs in front of us (and a whole bunch of other people) who were in line. Everyone was like—que pasa con esa señora? <What’s wrong with that lady?> Then Mikel got politely crunk and after a couple of declarations of what nerve she had (as she continued to ignore him and not get back in line), he told her where the end of the line was. Then the lady got huffy, some words were exchanged, and she finally left. I was standing there wide-eyed—“Whoa dude, whoa dude!” was reverberating in my brain. Anyway, I had fun and got lots of exercise, as well as practice speaking and listening to Spanish. The only problem is that a lot of times people speak too fast and/or use words that I don’t know, so sometimes I feel kind of intimidated and embarrassed and left out of the conversation. But I’m learning, and I just need to not worry about it and try my best. Well, the next day Mikel and I got up early and visited this great city called Soria. We took the train and just walked around and saw a bunch of old churches from way back in the day and other sights of the city. It was pretty small, surrounded by a bunch of countryside, but more modern than I thought. The people were friendly (and curious, judging from some of the stares I got), and we had a great time. I began my travelogue version of Chantelliver’s Travels using my new video camera. Yay! Well, Spain: so far, so good! 09 January 2004 Friday Shakespeare and the
Book of Matthew “And the rain descended,and the floods came and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it.”--Matthew 7:27 I went to church last night, and the preacher admonished us to be “edificados sobre la roca.” <Built on the rock.> If we’re built on the rock, he said, then nothing can sway us. The scripture he read was about the house built on the rock and the house built on the sand, but he read the sand one first. Julius Caesar popped into my mind. Oh, what a fall was there! But I’m really glad I went because yesterday was one of my bad Spanish days. What’s a bad Spanish day? A day when this little invisible guy twists all of the Spanish words that come out of my mouth and they sound like unintelligible gobbledygook, and Spanish people are like “¿qué?” And I’m stammering and getting fidgety and feel like all the Spanish I’ve ever learned has flown out the window. Well, maybe it’s not that bad. But the point is, just like if you’re built on the rock, you can’t be swayed, I can’t let my bad Spanish days sway me from my purposes of being here. If my Spanish is horrible, so be it, but if I keep at it, it will improve. Maybe I’m being a little hard on myself, because I am a little anal-retentive when I mess up. And it’s not just the bad Spanish days that could make me feel like asking, “Why am I here?” Or even doubt my reasons for coming. Or even get onto this roller coaster ride called Chantell’s Emotions. But people that are built on the rock don’t do any of those things. So, it was good, refreshing even. I met a bunch of really nice people, and it was all good. The only thing is that I got back kind of late, and Blanca called me on my cell and was all worried. I left her a note, but I still got back later than expected. It’s not really a good idea for a young girl to be out alone late at night in Madrid because at night there are just a few people on the train and shady stuff could possibly happen. This little old man sat with me on the way back and he was telling me about his daughter and his family and various stuff about Spain and kept patting me on the cheek. Sort of reminded me of folks in Italy who would like pinch our cheeks when we were little (and hard, too!). Blanca’s right, though. What if the little old man wasn’t so harmless? I guess I sometimes let my naiveté get the best of me. Not good. Well, our orientations started yesterday. I thought they weren’t mandatory, so I was just going to go by the institute and find out about stuff and then go to Mikel’s economics class. But they were all like, “No, you should stay, you have to take this test” and everything, and I was like, “Oh, no.” So I had to urgently text message him to tell him I couldn’t come. I felt so bad. Ah, well. 15 January 2004 Thursday Coldplay Day What’s a Coldplay day? Well, it’s similar to a Bad Spanish Day, except the origin is British. Let me explain. Coldplay is this Britrock group that is melancholy and pensive, but not without a smidgen of hope. Coldplay is the kind of group that you’d listen to on a rainy day, wrapped in a blanket, thinking of all the “What could’ve beens.” LOL. I’m listening to them right now, as I write this. Why? Because today I feel kind of Coldplayish—a little melancholy, blue, and pensive. I thought of the lady that stands in front of this store called Día (like a miniature supermarket) every day to beg for money until the store closes. The other day, I went in there to buy some orange Fanta and as I was leaving, she held out her hand. I gave her two euros (which is more like two dollars and 40 cents now—Grrrr). Gracias, bonita, she said. I know, I don’t really know what she’s going to do with the money, but right now, in my pensivity, I’m thinking, how must it feel to get up every morning, stand in front of a store all day and beg for money? Humiliating, maybe? Then, today, walking a bit in a hurry to class I passed by a man with one arm on the ground with a little McDonald’s cup in front of him. Then on my way to the cybercafe to write this, I saw a girl walking, with the support of this guy, with a slightly disfigured face. I sunk deeper into my Coldplay mood. Here I am worried about getting out of the house more and meeting more people, wondering whether or not I will go to Paris, when there’s so much . . . other stuff that I could be worried about, but I’m not. Well, then. I finally got my little class situation figured out. Now taking Cervantes, 19th and 20th Century literature (both of which fulfil my requirements), social diversity in contemporary Spain, and the Spanish Civil War. They seem like good, really interesting classes so far. The only thing is that my 19th and 20th Century literature professor talks super-fast, but I’m amazed at how much I can keep up with him. He says these like quick, funny/sardonic things that I actually catch. My understanding is okay, but I need the most help in my speaking. Anyway, yesterday I went to the Civil War class for the first time and two professors teach it—Carlos and Miguel Ángel. It’s kind of funny because Carlos will be giving the lecture or whatever and Miguel is really fired up about the class and he’ll keep inserting points of interest and clarification. That’s got to get annoying. I wonder if one day, Carlos will just snap and say, “Wait your turn! “ It’s great. And I think Miguel is kind of cute, in a professorial kind of way. No, he’s not desperately handsome, doesn’t have that classic “Mediterranean look” at all, but he’s so passionate about history and the class and everything, he can’t help but be likable. Okay, maybe I can lighten up a little, let the glimmer of hope inherent in my Coldplay mood shine through. Tomorrow and Saturday I’m going to Madrid with a friend to see all the sights. I’ve already seen some of them the last time, but Madrid is so huge, there’s a lot to see and do. Besides, I’m looking forward to seeing Guernica by Pablo Picasso again. It’s so impressive. It literally brought tears to my eyes seeing it “in the flesh.” I just need to soak in the Spainness of Spain. Remember that just being here is a privilege. 18 January 2004 Sunday Sandwiches in the
Sun Before our museum hopping, though, we went to this huge park called El Retiro. You could walk around in it for hours and still not see the whole thing. In the park, there’s this immense monument with sculptures, etc., attached, including a bunch of stairs that lead up to it. We brought our lunches, found a spot on the steps, and just ate our sandwiches while enjoying the view. Out in front of us was a huge lake, and people could take boat rides or even rent little boats and paddle around. All around us were people on the steps eating their lunches or playing the guitar, or reading—just enjoying life. Even though it was cold, the sun was out, and I had this feeling like, never in the United States could I sit on the steps of this years-old monument, overlooking a lake, eating a sandwich in the sun. I had a feeling like, ‘I can never re-live this exact moment,’ so I soaked it in. Then I thought, to all the Spaniards that live here, and come here all of the time, this is commonplace, nothing special. But I thought again, the same thing happens to us everyday. Whenever we’re used to something, when we’re surrounded by it 24/7, it becomes ordinary and commonplace, but to someone else, it could be a wonder. It depends on your point of view. I met with a friend of my Spanish brother, Guillermo, today in a little cafe. He needs opportunities to practice English, and I super need practice speaking Spanish, so we spent an hour in Spanish and then an hour in English, just talking. I love the whole togetherness aspect of Spain. People take walks around town, chatting with their friends, meet in cafes and just enjoy each other’s company. Of course, in the United States we’re social and all of that, but it’s not in the same way. I think we’re a little more individualistic and self-sufficient. Here people are more interdependent, and I think it’s a good thing. I went to church today, too, listened to a good message, talked with a few people. I love that everything is in Spanish, but it’s like the same as in the United States. It’s the same Spirit, just a different language. Well, it’s dinner time—in Spain people have dinner any time from about 8:30 to 10:30. I know Blanca will have something good cooked up, and I don’t want to be late!
ninetyandnine.com © 2004, Chantell Smith --------- Chantell Smith is a senior participating in the study abroad program sponsored by the University of Alabama. Her blog can be read at: http://chantelliverstravels.tripod.com/journal |
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