Sunday, December 18, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Nationalism- Not Just a Vocab Word Anymore
I remember being in 9th grade (not something I enjoy doing very often but still, it happens) and writing this word dutifully down in my Honors World History notebook, defining it as "the feeling of great pride towards ones country." I never gave the term much more thought than that; until now, that is.
I'd always heard that European countries were very proud of themselves, very nationalistic. They all have very rooted and strong cultures, unlike the melting pot that is America. In fact, one of the things I was most excited about upon hearing that I would be going to Spain. In my mind, it meant a plethora of splendor- people who were proud of their country meant they would be happy, right? Happy people are good! Sure, there were other thoughts in there somewhere (I do believe "I can take an AP test when I get back and pass, awesome" and "I freaking love Spanish hot chocolate" were in there somewhere) but that was the main idea.
I've been here two months now, and I think I have probably witnessed enough nationalism on both my part and the part of those around me to last me a lifetime. "Pride" and "enthusiasm" are not words grand enough to accurately describe the feeling of nationalism.
Now, what I'm about to say is not meant in any way to be a slander to the Spanish people. I love this culture very much, but it's been an observation of mine that they might just be a bit too proud of both their country for me to be comfortable.
Of course, there are many things about Spanish nationalism that I adore- the enthusiasm about the Spanish futbol teams, the flags everywhere, the pride they take in cooking traditional foods, and much more. There are also some things that rub me the wrong way. For instance, when I get asked how many times I've brought a gun to school or when I get laughed at by an entire classroom for mispronouncing a word or even told that there's no way I can possibly learn Spanish because I'm American, I start to wonder who taught these kids manners and respect. Sure, there are those people who are just rude in general, but for the most part this ignorance is considered normal.
I don't know about you, but I would never ask a Spanish person if they fight bulls as a hobby or a job, or tell them that the reason their economy is going down the drain is their 2 hour siesta every day. I recognize those as stereotypes, and would never treat them as a truth unless I was given solid proof to believe that they were, in fact, accurate. But not most of my Spanish peers. They don't recognize it as stereotyping- in fact, there was a girl in my Spanish Language and Literature class today who asked the teacher what the word "stereotipo" meant, and my teacher explained it like it was a word she hadn't expected any of us to have encountered before. Whatever happened to unity week in like 3rd grade when we learned to treat everyone equally and not to separate based on stereotypes and to not make assumptions? Apparently they haven't quite translated that into Spanish yet.
I've also developed quite a bit of nationalism for America while being here. I'm growing to appreciate the school system, and especially Summit, for its freedom and varied levels of difficulty. The responsibilities (especially those brought on by student jobs, driving, and being put in leadership positions in after school activities), I am realizing, are both greatly missed and loved for being the greatest teacher in maturity. Oregon is also becoming one of the greatest places in the world in my head. I always knew it was wonderful, sought out by people all over the world, whatever, but I never truly realized it until it was hundreds of thousands of miles away. I guess absence makes the heart grow fonder, at least in this case.
I know this has gotten fairly personal and even a bit rude but it's been a big part of my exchange. I'm realizing that being a world citizen means not only learning as much as possible about the world, it also means appreciating where you come from. I love my country and I love Spain, even though sometimes they seem to love themselves a bit too much. Nationalism is a good thing, a very important thing.
I'd always heard that European countries were very proud of themselves, very nationalistic. They all have very rooted and strong cultures, unlike the melting pot that is America. In fact, one of the things I was most excited about upon hearing that I would be going to Spain. In my mind, it meant a plethora of splendor- people who were proud of their country meant they would be happy, right? Happy people are good! Sure, there were other thoughts in there somewhere (I do believe "I can take an AP test when I get back and pass, awesome" and "I freaking love Spanish hot chocolate" were in there somewhere) but that was the main idea.
I've been here two months now, and I think I have probably witnessed enough nationalism on both my part and the part of those around me to last me a lifetime. "Pride" and "enthusiasm" are not words grand enough to accurately describe the feeling of nationalism.
Now, what I'm about to say is not meant in any way to be a slander to the Spanish people. I love this culture very much, but it's been an observation of mine that they might just be a bit too proud of both their country for me to be comfortable.
Of course, there are many things about Spanish nationalism that I adore- the enthusiasm about the Spanish futbol teams, the flags everywhere, the pride they take in cooking traditional foods, and much more. There are also some things that rub me the wrong way. For instance, when I get asked how many times I've brought a gun to school or when I get laughed at by an entire classroom for mispronouncing a word or even told that there's no way I can possibly learn Spanish because I'm American, I start to wonder who taught these kids manners and respect. Sure, there are those people who are just rude in general, but for the most part this ignorance is considered normal.
I don't know about you, but I would never ask a Spanish person if they fight bulls as a hobby or a job, or tell them that the reason their economy is going down the drain is their 2 hour siesta every day. I recognize those as stereotypes, and would never treat them as a truth unless I was given solid proof to believe that they were, in fact, accurate. But not most of my Spanish peers. They don't recognize it as stereotyping- in fact, there was a girl in my Spanish Language and Literature class today who asked the teacher what the word "stereotipo" meant, and my teacher explained it like it was a word she hadn't expected any of us to have encountered before. Whatever happened to unity week in like 3rd grade when we learned to treat everyone equally and not to separate based on stereotypes and to not make assumptions? Apparently they haven't quite translated that into Spanish yet.
I've also developed quite a bit of nationalism for America while being here. I'm growing to appreciate the school system, and especially Summit, for its freedom and varied levels of difficulty. The responsibilities (especially those brought on by student jobs, driving, and being put in leadership positions in after school activities), I am realizing, are both greatly missed and loved for being the greatest teacher in maturity. Oregon is also becoming one of the greatest places in the world in my head. I always knew it was wonderful, sought out by people all over the world, whatever, but I never truly realized it until it was hundreds of thousands of miles away. I guess absence makes the heart grow fonder, at least in this case.
I know this has gotten fairly personal and even a bit rude but it's been a big part of my exchange. I'm realizing that being a world citizen means not only learning as much as possible about the world, it also means appreciating where you come from. I love my country and I love Spain, even though sometimes they seem to love themselves a bit too much. Nationalism is a good thing, a very important thing.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Traveling Whilst Traveling
I've had very nice opportunities to travel to different parts of southern Spain, and I'm going to have many more (Melilla for Christmas and Sevilla in the spring are positives!). I'm really very lucky:)
Granada
This is also something I don't know very much about, other than the fact that it's really pretty. My counselor lives in Granada and I'm hoping to visit her one weekend, and maybe she'll be able to explain things to me! That's one of the weirdest things I've gotten used to here, to be honest- not understanding anything. I've had to give up much of my stubbornness to just go along for the ride, because I just don't have enough knowledge of the language or of the place we are or of what people actually do here to try to take control. This is a bit different for me, but it's definitely good.
Cordoba
Monday, December 5, 2011
My Name Is
I still have all those pictures that maybe one day I'll upload to make a blog post, but lately I've been feeling a bit uninspired to do anything but eat chuches and wear multiple pairs of socks. Winter has come earlier than I'd expected it to (not that 50 degrees and cloudy is winter but still, it's December) leaving me in need of a puffy black vest to keep me warm and strange Spanish study habits to not fail my finals.
But along with those situational needs has come an annual thing, something that affects me every year regardless of where I am. My mom calls it "the Winter Blues" and for a couple weeks it gets me down and makes it hard for me to do things like type for longer than thirty seconds and smile. Luckily I'm learning how to combat it by surrounding myself with people who give me hugs and/or chocolate, but being productive is still a bit difficult.
I've recently found that some of my favorite people to give me hugs and/or chocolate here are the members of my host family. Making friends has proven to be a bit of the challenge (big surprise, Hannah's having trouble getting along with teenagers even on the other side of the world) but especially lately I've been growing closer to my host family.
With my family thousands of hundreds of lots of miles away it's nice to have a brother to watch TV with, a mom to gossip with, a dad to discuss politics with, and a sister to laugh and color with. Even though she's only 9, Ana and I have this cute little bond that means we can keep secrets together, do homework together, watch Disney Channel together, read silly books together, and snuggle each other awake on those mornings when we're especially tired. I'm very lucky to live in a house with such a similar family dynamic to my own, and even luckier to get on with the family itself.
It's a different bond than that which I have with the my American family, for sure. I mean, I've only known them for two months, we barely speak the same language, and they already had established a family relationship long before I came along. So, while they may call me a daughter or a sister (which makes me tear up and want to give everyone hugs) and I may call them my Spanish family, they're a different kind of family than what I've grown up with, and not just because they look different.
This is not bad in any way. In fact, it's actually rather awesome. I get to have homes in two different parts of the world, two sets of trusted adults to help me, and two sets of kids my age that I can do everything from bickering to making cookies with. It may contribute to the tearing sensation inside me that comes with being rooted in two completely different places at the same time, but that's one of the reasons I went on exchange- to become a world citizen.
My name in Spanish makes me feel very much like a world citizen. Hannah, pronounced with a Spanish accent, is my Hebrew name, which represents my religious and cultural background filled with learning to give to the less fortunate and eating with family. Leah is from my mom's mom, and it gives me the grace and stubbornness from that side of the family. Goldstein is from my dad's family, the part of me that's loyal and just a little bit insane. And, finally, the name that my host parents have started calling me by- Castillejo. That is from my Spanish family, which has taught me the importance of stability and exploration. I also have an incessant need for order and a natural rhythm that I'm starting to suspect is the Spaniard in me, and it just took this exchange for me to figure that out.
I love my name and what it says about me. It shows my family over the continents, and even helps explain some of my attributes. Being so far from home, though, has made me realize how much I really do love America, so I think I need just one more name- one to show my pride and sense of adventure, an American name. I'm thinking something outrageous like "Murca" but no one has ever called me that except myself that one time about 3 seconds ago. I'm not in any sort of a rush, though. What do you guys think?
Even through these pesky winter blues I'm finding contentment in my family, both new and old. They make me who I am, and finding contentment with them helps me to find contentment with myself which I guess is one of the most important parts of growing up.
But along with those situational needs has come an annual thing, something that affects me every year regardless of where I am. My mom calls it "the Winter Blues" and for a couple weeks it gets me down and makes it hard for me to do things like type for longer than thirty seconds and smile. Luckily I'm learning how to combat it by surrounding myself with people who give me hugs and/or chocolate, but being productive is still a bit difficult.
I've recently found that some of my favorite people to give me hugs and/or chocolate here are the members of my host family. Making friends has proven to be a bit of the challenge (big surprise, Hannah's having trouble getting along with teenagers even on the other side of the world) but especially lately I've been growing closer to my host family.
With my family thousands of hundreds of lots of miles away it's nice to have a brother to watch TV with, a mom to gossip with, a dad to discuss politics with, and a sister to laugh and color with. Even though she's only 9, Ana and I have this cute little bond that means we can keep secrets together, do homework together, watch Disney Channel together, read silly books together, and snuggle each other awake on those mornings when we're especially tired. I'm very lucky to live in a house with such a similar family dynamic to my own, and even luckier to get on with the family itself.
It's a different bond than that which I have with the my American family, for sure. I mean, I've only known them for two months, we barely speak the same language, and they already had established a family relationship long before I came along. So, while they may call me a daughter or a sister (which makes me tear up and want to give everyone hugs) and I may call them my Spanish family, they're a different kind of family than what I've grown up with, and not just because they look different.
This is not bad in any way. In fact, it's actually rather awesome. I get to have homes in two different parts of the world, two sets of trusted adults to help me, and two sets of kids my age that I can do everything from bickering to making cookies with. It may contribute to the tearing sensation inside me that comes with being rooted in two completely different places at the same time, but that's one of the reasons I went on exchange- to become a world citizen.
My name in Spanish makes me feel very much like a world citizen. Hannah, pronounced with a Spanish accent, is my Hebrew name, which represents my religious and cultural background filled with learning to give to the less fortunate and eating with family. Leah is from my mom's mom, and it gives me the grace and stubbornness from that side of the family. Goldstein is from my dad's family, the part of me that's loyal and just a little bit insane. And, finally, the name that my host parents have started calling me by- Castillejo. That is from my Spanish family, which has taught me the importance of stability and exploration. I also have an incessant need for order and a natural rhythm that I'm starting to suspect is the Spaniard in me, and it just took this exchange for me to figure that out.
I love my name and what it says about me. It shows my family over the continents, and even helps explain some of my attributes. Being so far from home, though, has made me realize how much I really do love America, so I think I need just one more name- one to show my pride and sense of adventure, an American name. I'm thinking something outrageous like "Murca" but no one has ever called me that except myself that one time about 3 seconds ago. I'm not in any sort of a rush, though. What do you guys think?
Even through these pesky winter blues I'm finding contentment in my family, both new and old. They make me who I am, and finding contentment with them helps me to find contentment with myself which I guess is one of the most important parts of growing up.
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