Today something really embarrassing happened, but before I tell you I'd like to say that I have a new article on Domestic Square Peg! It was on the front page at some point, but it relates to my little story. If you have time, it'd be great for you to read it. If not, here's the jist of it: I'm failing school and it puts me in some uncomfortable situations.
One of the biggest ways we learn here in Spanish school is through taking tests. I can say without a doubt that I have gotten a 10% on the last, like, forty tests I've had to take. On the History test I took on Friday about the Cold War, I probably knew how to answer two of the ten questions. I used to consider myself smart, or at least not stupid, but I've definitely started to question myself in the last couple months. So, on this History test, I had about 45 minutes left over after answering those two questions, and I decided to write a list at the bottom of the test of things that I DO know how to do to make myself feel a little bit better. Things like "how to read Hebrew" and "how to properly use a semicolon" and "how to Photoshop Chewbacca into a convertible" made this list.
First of all, may I admit that I didn't think my History teacher knew how to speak any English. He's tried talking to me in English before, and as far as I could tell it was at a pretty elementary level. Turns out he can read English, though, or at least put it into Google Translate and figure out what I was saying. So when he handed back our tests today, instead of handing mine to me and lecturing me on my study habits like he normally does, he told me loudly that NO ONE thought I was dumb and that I didn't need to prove myself to him. One of the kids I sit next to overheard and asked what he was talking about, and my teacher proceeded to read off my list of things that I know how to do to the entire class, translating when necessary. It was a long and painful process. Also, now all the kids in my class know that I pride myself in my knowledge of 70's punk lyrics.
At least they don't think I'm stupid, though.
Showing posts with label weekly update. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weekly update. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Thursday, May 31, 2012
One Month
Hello fans, followers, friends, and family! This Sunday marked one month until my return date, and my feelings about it are beginning to grow more and more mixed. As I come to the end of my exchange, I find that I'm not so sure I want to leave, while at the same time I'm anxious to go home and see all those things I've been missing all year. So, there's that.
When I began this post I was going to give it a topic, a thesis or something. In short, it was going to have a point. But I haven't got a point to make so today I'm just going to talk. That happens sometimes, as a person and as a writer. Sometimes we just ramble on about nothing. So here's my ramble.
My host parents are amazing. Like, not just as host parents/people to live with, but as people in general. I tell them that sometimes, thank them for feeding me or washing my sheets or whatever, and they tell me it's human decency. There are two things I say to that: first of all, that their kindness extends far beyond human decency. Second of all, human decency isn't exactly a trait possessed by all nowadays. So it's appreciated when people aren't rude and stuff.
The lovely people over at Domestic Square Peg have recently published something I wrote about adjusting to living abroad. It's one of a 5 part series, so I'll be on there for a month or two. I've included a link on the sidebar. It's seriously an awesome opportunity, and I'm really grateful to be able to be provided with it.
I was in Marbella for most of last week while my host parents were in Madrid, and was able to see with Nina, Matthew, and Josie which was simply lovely. I love travelling, and even though I'm on one big adventure just living here it's nice to be able to travel while here.
One of the biggest things I miss from America is doing things during the day as opposed to the night. "Going out" (leaving the house with friends from like 8-12) is the biggest way to pass time with other people, and I unfortunately inherited the urge to be in bed by 10 from my parents (thanks for that, by the way). I'd much rather go adventuring until 6 or 7, go home, eat, read, and go to sleep, but that doesn't happen like ever here. Oh well, just something I'll be able to appreciate more upon returning.
I'm starting to prepare for the next school year and it's both exciting and nerve-racking. I'm so excited to actually DO things next year- be a yearbook editor, be in the school musical, take dance classes, go skiing, apply for college, do schoolwork, have a job, etc. At the same time, I'm realizing just how much I want to do and how much time/energy it's going to take up. Not being involved in school this year has made me significantly lazier, and I'm worried about how that's going to affect me in my senior year. But still, I'm mostly excited... Even though AP summer homework is already kind of kicking my butt.
I guess that's what's on my mind. That and beach... Living this close to the beach is amazing. Seriously.
OK bye.
When I began this post I was going to give it a topic, a thesis or something. In short, it was going to have a point. But I haven't got a point to make so today I'm just going to talk. That happens sometimes, as a person and as a writer. Sometimes we just ramble on about nothing. So here's my ramble.
My host parents are amazing. Like, not just as host parents/people to live with, but as people in general. I tell them that sometimes, thank them for feeding me or washing my sheets or whatever, and they tell me it's human decency. There are two things I say to that: first of all, that their kindness extends far beyond human decency. Second of all, human decency isn't exactly a trait possessed by all nowadays. So it's appreciated when people aren't rude and stuff.
The lovely people over at Domestic Square Peg have recently published something I wrote about adjusting to living abroad. It's one of a 5 part series, so I'll be on there for a month or two. I've included a link on the sidebar. It's seriously an awesome opportunity, and I'm really grateful to be able to be provided with it.
I was in Marbella for most of last week while my host parents were in Madrid, and was able to see with Nina, Matthew, and Josie which was simply lovely. I love travelling, and even though I'm on one big adventure just living here it's nice to be able to travel while here.
One of the biggest things I miss from America is doing things during the day as opposed to the night. "Going out" (leaving the house with friends from like 8-12) is the biggest way to pass time with other people, and I unfortunately inherited the urge to be in bed by 10 from my parents (thanks for that, by the way). I'd much rather go adventuring until 6 or 7, go home, eat, read, and go to sleep, but that doesn't happen like ever here. Oh well, just something I'll be able to appreciate more upon returning.
I'm starting to prepare for the next school year and it's both exciting and nerve-racking. I'm so excited to actually DO things next year- be a yearbook editor, be in the school musical, take dance classes, go skiing, apply for college, do schoolwork, have a job, etc. At the same time, I'm realizing just how much I want to do and how much time/energy it's going to take up. Not being involved in school this year has made me significantly lazier, and I'm worried about how that's going to affect me in my senior year. But still, I'm mostly excited... Even though AP summer homework is already kind of kicking my butt.
I guess that's what's on my mind. That and beach... Living this close to the beach is amazing. Seriously.
OK bye.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Today is Wednesday
Hello everybody! Today is Wednesday and it's my first day back to school after two days off. Spain has a lot of random holidays that we get school off for, and this time it was for a world fair or something. I don't really know. I was sick all weekend (still have a bad cough and a bit of a headache) so I didn't get to go, which is a bummer but I guess that happens.
A couple days ago my mom told me over Skype (something that's become more and more recent in the last few weeks) that the wonderful crew over at Domestic Square Peg would like me to write a series of 5 articles for their teen section about my experience adjusting to a different culture. I'm really excited- I always love an opportunity to get my work published! However, I do need some ideas on what to write them about. I feel like I've gone through so much that, if it were up to me, I'd write an entire (very opinionated) autobiography on this year. That would certainly exceed my 200-500 word limit, so if you have any ideas, please share them!
I passed the 7 month mark yesterday and, while I'm pretty much ready to go home, the idea that I only have two more months here scares me. Especially living in a new town, I feel like I have so much more that I'm supposed to do with this experience. I'm constantly comparing my exchange year with those of other exchange students that I know, and I feel like I'm supposed to be doing more than I have. This is silly because I'm obviously going to have a different experience than other people. This is scary because I don't want to look back and regret not doing enough this year.
My iPod broke on Friday (something about bad software, according to Yahoo Answers and the Apple forums). This happened to me once back home, and it was completely devastating. It occupied me for weeks, and I do believe I may have cried once or twice. Here, it was just another thing that happened. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I mentally made a list of solutions, and decided not to worry about it until there was something I could do. While this may not be a story relevant to my actual experience here, I do believe it shows a lot about what I've learned during these last couple months. Apparently whatever it is I'm learning here is applicable in "real life" situations.
Other than that, nothing's really going on in my life. I've been watching Disney movies and eating bizcocho and walking to and from school and trying to pay attention in Filosofia and speaking Spanish. Life isn't super exciting, but it's not bad either. I'd even go so far as to say I might just be content with it.
A couple days ago my mom told me over Skype (something that's become more and more recent in the last few weeks) that the wonderful crew over at Domestic Square Peg would like me to write a series of 5 articles for their teen section about my experience adjusting to a different culture. I'm really excited- I always love an opportunity to get my work published! However, I do need some ideas on what to write them about. I feel like I've gone through so much that, if it were up to me, I'd write an entire (very opinionated) autobiography on this year. That would certainly exceed my 200-500 word limit, so if you have any ideas, please share them!
I passed the 7 month mark yesterday and, while I'm pretty much ready to go home, the idea that I only have two more months here scares me. Especially living in a new town, I feel like I have so much more that I'm supposed to do with this experience. I'm constantly comparing my exchange year with those of other exchange students that I know, and I feel like I'm supposed to be doing more than I have. This is silly because I'm obviously going to have a different experience than other people. This is scary because I don't want to look back and regret not doing enough this year.
My iPod broke on Friday (something about bad software, according to Yahoo Answers and the Apple forums). This happened to me once back home, and it was completely devastating. It occupied me for weeks, and I do believe I may have cried once or twice. Here, it was just another thing that happened. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I mentally made a list of solutions, and decided not to worry about it until there was something I could do. While this may not be a story relevant to my actual experience here, I do believe it shows a lot about what I've learned during these last couple months. Apparently whatever it is I'm learning here is applicable in "real life" situations.
Other than that, nothing's really going on in my life. I've been watching Disney movies and eating bizcocho and walking to and from school and trying to pay attention in Filosofia and speaking Spanish. Life isn't super exciting, but it's not bad either. I'd even go so far as to say I might just be content with it.
Friday, January 13, 2012
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.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
An Update in My Life
So, this is yet another video update, it gets a bit more personal than a travel blog should but just keep in mind that you don't have to watch this. Also I apologize for the turtleneck.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Solitude is Bliss
Thank you all very much for the birthday wishes/presents/cards/letters. I had an excellent time celebrating turning 17 here in Spain. I'm very happy right now, which is good. I'm also learning life lessons all over the place, which is also good.
I was Skyping my mom last night and, being the Journalism Mom (like a Dance Mom but not really at all) that she is, she asked me what kind of article I'd write about my experience here so far. I laughed at that for a bit, but then I thought about it seriously. What would I write about? I could definitely compose a solid list of complaints or gush for pages about everything I love, but that's not exactly something worth publishing. After a couple minutes I said that, if I had to be entirely honest, I'd write about what it's like to be alone.
I've felt alone at many points in my life at varying levels of intensity. There was the time I got lost in the woods in Canada, the first time I was left home alone by myself, when I went to Washington DC without my family, all the times I feel left out of a conversation, etc. But never have I ever been as alone as I am right now. It's not even a bad thing- I actually rather enjoy it. It's an educational thing, really, and it's teaching me to be comfortable with myself.
I have always been a pretty independent person, but I never really even knew what that meant before coming here. I have always (mostly) made my own decisions. But until Spain, I had always unknowingly been influenced by something or someone. I knew the social norms of where I lived, what my friends and family thought, what I was predicted or expected to do, how the people around me would react to different things. Here I have none of that knowledge. This may be inconvenient, being surrounded by completely foreign ideas and people all day long, when all I want to do is hug my little sister or have a nice peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but it can also be beneficial. In many ways, it has freed me. I am still held to a certain standard by my host family and by myself, but I am also largely allowed to do what I want and find out who I really am.
Being yourself is hard when people who you've known for years and years already have an idea of who they think you are. Being yourself is easy when you don't have the language skills, energy or memory capacity to pretend to be anyone else for longer than a minute or so. I can't remember the difference between "cuchara" and "cuchillo" (words I use rather frequently) so I definitely can't remember the difference between all the different ways I present myself when speaking to different people. I am forced to wear one face because not only am I too tired to keep track of a bunch of different identities, but I really only want to be one person; myself.
When I was younger someone told me that in elementary school you find your role as a family member, in middle school you find your role as a friend, and in high school you find your role as yourself. I think that was one of the main reasons I so frequently separated myself from everyone when I was still in Bend (that, and the fact that I don't tend to like most people, so if I've given you this link feel special cos it must mean I like you)- it's impossible to get to know yourself if you are constantly surrounded by people with their own opinions, way of speaking, life goals, etc. People don't realize how great of an influence the people you interact with have on you. Being alone is very important when you are trying to figure out who you are. Here in Spain, I spend a lot of time both physically and mentally alone. It takes me 45 minutes in the morning to take the bus to school and most of the time I don't see anyone I know on my commute, which means I get some good thinking time in. Also most of the time I get very frustrated not being able to understand anything that's going on when everyone's speaking in rapid Andalucian Spanish, so I remove my thoughts from the conversation and get some good thinking time in then, too. I've learned some very important things about myself from all this thinking time. For instance, I may be regarded as intelligent by some but I am definitely not an academic; an important distinction, as choosing a college used to be based on academics for me but now I know I'd rather choose based on the experience it can give me.
Another way being alone has made me get to know myself is by seeing how I handle challenges and struggles. My whole life is a challenge right now- unless you have ever been in a scarily similar situation to mine, you cannot understand how difficult it is not understanding the language, social norms, grading system, anything about the place you are now LIVING in- and as a result much of what I do defines who I am. Dealing with a tough situation brings out who we really are, I've always thought, and the fact that I'm doing it all on my own has helped me realize a great deal of things about myself that I wouldn't have been able to learn had someone been helping me. For instance, when a friend of mine lost her wallet on a long-gone bus I learned that I'm actually an optimist when I immediately began listing off solutions and ways to fix this and how she could get her wallet back and who we could call, etc. That was huge for me, because my melancholiness has always tricked me into believing I'm a pessimist. In reality, I'm just a slightly sad optimist.
I've always enjoyed being alone, but here solitude is more than just bliss; it's an important way for me to learn who I am. I am becoming less and less defined by the people I surround myself with and the places I go and more and more defined by me.
I was Skyping my mom last night and, being the Journalism Mom (like a Dance Mom but not really at all) that she is, she asked me what kind of article I'd write about my experience here so far. I laughed at that for a bit, but then I thought about it seriously. What would I write about? I could definitely compose a solid list of complaints or gush for pages about everything I love, but that's not exactly something worth publishing. After a couple minutes I said that, if I had to be entirely honest, I'd write about what it's like to be alone.
I've felt alone at many points in my life at varying levels of intensity. There was the time I got lost in the woods in Canada, the first time I was left home alone by myself, when I went to Washington DC without my family, all the times I feel left out of a conversation, etc. But never have I ever been as alone as I am right now. It's not even a bad thing- I actually rather enjoy it. It's an educational thing, really, and it's teaching me to be comfortable with myself.
I have always been a pretty independent person, but I never really even knew what that meant before coming here. I have always (mostly) made my own decisions. But until Spain, I had always unknowingly been influenced by something or someone. I knew the social norms of where I lived, what my friends and family thought, what I was predicted or expected to do, how the people around me would react to different things. Here I have none of that knowledge. This may be inconvenient, being surrounded by completely foreign ideas and people all day long, when all I want to do is hug my little sister or have a nice peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but it can also be beneficial. In many ways, it has freed me. I am still held to a certain standard by my host family and by myself, but I am also largely allowed to do what I want and find out who I really am.
Being yourself is hard when people who you've known for years and years already have an idea of who they think you are. Being yourself is easy when you don't have the language skills, energy or memory capacity to pretend to be anyone else for longer than a minute or so. I can't remember the difference between "cuchara" and "cuchillo" (words I use rather frequently) so I definitely can't remember the difference between all the different ways I present myself when speaking to different people. I am forced to wear one face because not only am I too tired to keep track of a bunch of different identities, but I really only want to be one person; myself.
When I was younger someone told me that in elementary school you find your role as a family member, in middle school you find your role as a friend, and in high school you find your role as yourself. I think that was one of the main reasons I so frequently separated myself from everyone when I was still in Bend (that, and the fact that I don't tend to like most people, so if I've given you this link feel special cos it must mean I like you)- it's impossible to get to know yourself if you are constantly surrounded by people with their own opinions, way of speaking, life goals, etc. People don't realize how great of an influence the people you interact with have on you. Being alone is very important when you are trying to figure out who you are. Here in Spain, I spend a lot of time both physically and mentally alone. It takes me 45 minutes in the morning to take the bus to school and most of the time I don't see anyone I know on my commute, which means I get some good thinking time in. Also most of the time I get very frustrated not being able to understand anything that's going on when everyone's speaking in rapid Andalucian Spanish, so I remove my thoughts from the conversation and get some good thinking time in then, too. I've learned some very important things about myself from all this thinking time. For instance, I may be regarded as intelligent by some but I am definitely not an academic; an important distinction, as choosing a college used to be based on academics for me but now I know I'd rather choose based on the experience it can give me.
Another way being alone has made me get to know myself is by seeing how I handle challenges and struggles. My whole life is a challenge right now- unless you have ever been in a scarily similar situation to mine, you cannot understand how difficult it is not understanding the language, social norms, grading system, anything about the place you are now LIVING in- and as a result much of what I do defines who I am. Dealing with a tough situation brings out who we really are, I've always thought, and the fact that I'm doing it all on my own has helped me realize a great deal of things about myself that I wouldn't have been able to learn had someone been helping me. For instance, when a friend of mine lost her wallet on a long-gone bus I learned that I'm actually an optimist when I immediately began listing off solutions and ways to fix this and how she could get her wallet back and who we could call, etc. That was huge for me, because my melancholiness has always tricked me into believing I'm a pessimist. In reality, I'm just a slightly sad optimist.
I've always enjoyed being alone, but here solitude is more than just bliss; it's an important way for me to learn who I am. I am becoming less and less defined by the people I surround myself with and the places I go and more and more defined by me.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
A little something I like to call "Language Cock Block"
So, apparently I'm not posting on Mondays or Thursdays. Or maybe I am and I just screwed this week up. Either way, I apologize for the lack of updates this week. I just know you all were sitting on the edge of your seats waiting to hear from me (that was sarcasm, by the way). I'd also like to warn you that though my mood and well-being has greatly improved since last week, I'm still a bit crabby. If you want a more detailed recollection of how I've gotten over my severe case of homesickness/bitterness, feel free to email me.
Also, I'd like to mention two very important events that are surrounding today- my One Month, which was on Tuesday, and my birthday, which is on Thursday. I will be 17 which is a big deal- it means I'm finally legal in the wizarding world! Yay, me. If you happen to have any presents or letters or cards ask my mother how to address them, as I haven't the foggiest how to do it. I know you need the address itself and then there's something to do with my host dad's name and I don't know what it is but my mom does so just ask her. Not that I expect presents or letters or cards. Honest, I don't. Though some birthday wishes would definitely be appreciated considering I'm alone in a foreign country.
Something that's been on my mind lately is how much of a language barrier there still is between me and everyone else in Spain. Before I came here I was sure I'd be able to understand everything everyone said. I was a pro at Spanish- never mind what everyone was telling me about the impossible Andalucian accent, I'd kick butt and wow all those Spaniards with my language skills.
Boy, was I wrong. Sure, my Spanish was more than adequate in the US, but in the big scheme of things I'd taken four years of language from non-native Spanish speakers in Oregon public schools and could barely pick out fragments of words in sentences spat at me my first week here. I adapted the bad habit of smiling and nodding, not knowing what I was agreeing to. It was embarrassing, to say the least. But it proved those theories stating that immersion in a Spanish speaking country was the best way to learn the language.
Now, a month later, I've drastically improved but I'm still not fluent by any means. My friends and host family still need to speak slowly and choose their words carefully in order for us to have a normal conversation. Even with that, being surrounded all day every day by people and books and signs and all that written or spoken in a completely different language is one of the most exhausting things ever. Sometimes it gets me down, and I feel like I try so hard all the time but with no success. Other times I look back on how much I've improved and I feel good about myself. It's a new feeling for sure. Language has never been a problem for me- I was always that annoying kid who looked forward to the spelling bee and corrected my teachers on their grammar. Here, my nine-year-old host sister is constantly providing me with the right word or verb conjugation or even phrase.
I've found ways to adapt to not being able to communicate, though. I am now probably the best charades player you will ever meet, and I will never again feel ridiculous about making insane gestures or word combinations in public. I've figured out that I can just get straight to the point to avoid making vague conversation (the hardest kind of conversation to make and, I've realized, the most pointless). I'm figuring out how to use my Spanish as well as I can and even communicate without words. Until I'm fluent, though, all I can really do is watch Phineas and Ferb in dubbed Spanish and write down awkward translations on top of all my tests.
Also, I'd like to mention two very important events that are surrounding today- my One Month, which was on Tuesday, and my birthday, which is on Thursday. I will be 17 which is a big deal- it means I'm finally legal in the wizarding world! Yay, me. If you happen to have any presents or letters or cards ask my mother how to address them, as I haven't the foggiest how to do it. I know you need the address itself and then there's something to do with my host dad's name and I don't know what it is but my mom does so just ask her. Not that I expect presents or letters or cards. Honest, I don't. Though some birthday wishes would definitely be appreciated considering I'm alone in a foreign country.
Something that's been on my mind lately is how much of a language barrier there still is between me and everyone else in Spain. Before I came here I was sure I'd be able to understand everything everyone said. I was a pro at Spanish- never mind what everyone was telling me about the impossible Andalucian accent, I'd kick butt and wow all those Spaniards with my language skills.
Boy, was I wrong. Sure, my Spanish was more than adequate in the US, but in the big scheme of things I'd taken four years of language from non-native Spanish speakers in Oregon public schools and could barely pick out fragments of words in sentences spat at me my first week here. I adapted the bad habit of smiling and nodding, not knowing what I was agreeing to. It was embarrassing, to say the least. But it proved those theories stating that immersion in a Spanish speaking country was the best way to learn the language.
Now, a month later, I've drastically improved but I'm still not fluent by any means. My friends and host family still need to speak slowly and choose their words carefully in order for us to have a normal conversation. Even with that, being surrounded all day every day by people and books and signs and all that written or spoken in a completely different language is one of the most exhausting things ever. Sometimes it gets me down, and I feel like I try so hard all the time but with no success. Other times I look back on how much I've improved and I feel good about myself. It's a new feeling for sure. Language has never been a problem for me- I was always that annoying kid who looked forward to the spelling bee and corrected my teachers on their grammar. Here, my nine-year-old host sister is constantly providing me with the right word or verb conjugation or even phrase.
I've found ways to adapt to not being able to communicate, though. I am now probably the best charades player you will ever meet, and I will never again feel ridiculous about making insane gestures or word combinations in public. I've figured out that I can just get straight to the point to avoid making vague conversation (the hardest kind of conversation to make and, I've realized, the most pointless). I'm figuring out how to use my Spanish as well as I can and even communicate without words. Until I'm fluent, though, all I can really do is watch Phineas and Ferb in dubbed Spanish and write down awkward translations on top of all my tests.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
To Be Honest...
Quite often I feel like my entire life is composed of comparisons. It's like instead of seeing colors, I see only black and white- new and old. For the most part I'm excited by all the differences. I love taking the bus from the beach to the beautiful architecture of the Centro, buying two fresh baked baguettes with a 1 euro coin from my coin purse, and the sheer honesty here. I'm approaching these changes with optimism. I'm keeping my mind open.
But, as those of you who know me well know, I struggle with optimism. Recently I've had a hard time finding anything but negativity in this foreign country. I feel like a news anchor for the international news- only focusing on the bad when there is so much good in the world around me. To be honest, the mindset I'm in right now disgusts me and I force myself to smile and say I love it here. I force myself to think I'm happy when really, I'm frustrated by the slurry Spanish and the unspoken social rules that I'm just expected to know.
Remember when I mentioned how much I love the pure honesty here? Well, even in this pessimistic state of mind I still appreciate it. One of my favorite things I've heard here was said by my friend Sandra after she asked me how I was one day and I answered "good!". She said, "You don't always need to be good. You don't always need to smile. If you're having a bad day you can glare at people and not talk because it means you get to wake up in the morning with the bad mood out of your system. Just act how you feel because keeping it bottled up just makes it worse."
She's right. One part of being honest is being honest in how you feel, not just in what you're telling people. It's OK to have a bad day as long as you don't take those emotions out on others in a harmful way. It's OK to want to go home and just watch 50 First Dates with your little sister, more than you want to see a world-famous piece of architecture. It's OK to frown all through school because it isn't something you wanted to do. It's even OK to complain to your mom for nearly an hour about how much you hate your professors and how all the girls are gossiping about you as an American and you don't know why because you thought they were your friends (thank you for that, by the way). Having a bad day is OK. Pretending you're not having it is not.
I'm learning how to stop cowboying up when I don't need to, which is hard considering I've been raised on that motto. If there's one thing that's different about Spain that I can enjoy through the good and the bad, it's the honesty- it allows me to be myself. And that is something I can live with.
But, as those of you who know me well know, I struggle with optimism. Recently I've had a hard time finding anything but negativity in this foreign country. I feel like a news anchor for the international news- only focusing on the bad when there is so much good in the world around me. To be honest, the mindset I'm in right now disgusts me and I force myself to smile and say I love it here. I force myself to think I'm happy when really, I'm frustrated by the slurry Spanish and the unspoken social rules that I'm just expected to know.
Remember when I mentioned how much I love the pure honesty here? Well, even in this pessimistic state of mind I still appreciate it. One of my favorite things I've heard here was said by my friend Sandra after she asked me how I was one day and I answered "good!". She said, "You don't always need to be good. You don't always need to smile. If you're having a bad day you can glare at people and not talk because it means you get to wake up in the morning with the bad mood out of your system. Just act how you feel because keeping it bottled up just makes it worse."
She's right. One part of being honest is being honest in how you feel, not just in what you're telling people. It's OK to have a bad day as long as you don't take those emotions out on others in a harmful way. It's OK to want to go home and just watch 50 First Dates with your little sister, more than you want to see a world-famous piece of architecture. It's OK to frown all through school because it isn't something you wanted to do. It's even OK to complain to your mom for nearly an hour about how much you hate your professors and how all the girls are gossiping about you as an American and you don't know why because you thought they were your friends (thank you for that, by the way). Having a bad day is OK. Pretending you're not having it is not.
I'm learning how to stop cowboying up when I don't need to, which is hard considering I've been raised on that motto. If there's one thing that's different about Spain that I can enjoy through the good and the bad, it's the honesty- it allows me to be myself. And that is something I can live with.
Monday, October 17, 2011
See life through my eyes with my mind's commentary
The Centro- Technically called "Centro de Ciudad" but everyone just calls it "El Centro" because it's just downtown. It's always crowded, especially this main road (where no cars are allowed to go) but the architecture is incredible and I can't stop going back! My new favorite after school activity is going to the Centro and exploring the side streets.
The Centro again- still the main street. Shops line it (including an H&M!) but most are very expensive. I'm still looking for a cute thrift store or something where I can buy my clothes for cheap. I haven't bought anything yet but I'm sure I will in the next couple weeks.
Me in front of the bull fighting ring- the most famous landmark in Malaga. Search the city up in Google and this is what you'll find. I have yet to actually visit it, though my host family tells me we'll be going to see a bull fight while I'm here. I've heard they're a bit gruesome, but I simply have to see ONE!
The neighborhood my school is in- called El Palo, it used to be where the old fishermen live so it's notorious for being one of the most run down parts of Malaga. Luckily I'm only here during the day so it's not scary, but there's definitely lots of graffiti and litter everywhere. Even my school is kind of run down; it adds to the character, but what a change from Summit.
Another view of the bullfighting ring with the city and the sea in the background. I feel so lucky to be one train away from walking along the Mediterranean Sea; I'm an ocean child and it feels so good to be back living so close to the crashing waves. Not that the waves here crash so much as they weakly slap the sand (or rocks depending on where you are) but it's good enough for me.
My school IES El Palo. It's rather large though this picture doesn't accurately depict it; there are 5 stories though only 4 at a time are accessible. That doesn't make any sense but that's how it is. There's also not a parking lot because no one can drive to school- those who can drive mopeds which are super popular (and freaking awesome!) here. I have 6 classes a day but 11 classes in total, and every day I have a different schedule. Confusing but at least they're all exactly an hour and I have them all with the same group of people so we just walk around in a herd except when I go to my bilingual classes.
This is the beach within walking distance of my house! It would take about an hour to walk but with the bus it's only 20ish minutes. It's a rock beach which I like because it doesn't have any of that dirty imported sand. There's a prettier beach (reminds me more of the Oregon coast, to get to the one that reminds me of the California coast you have to walk west) if you walk east for a bit, but this one does just fine. The water is so calm- it's almost like a lake. I've also heard that on super clear, unsmoggy days you can see Africa in the horizon.
This is facing the east. There's a nice row of sea-facing restaurants if you follow a sketchy path that takes you nearly through the water, but it's all worth it. I went there a couple of nights ago with some girlfriends and we ended up walking all the way to Playa Virginia, a mile or more away! It's nights like those that I'm so grateful for the bus system.
The cathedral in the center is breathtaking. I've seen it both at night and during the day, and it's on my list of things to do here to go and tour it. It's huge and I'll probably have to dedicate an entire day to it but that's part of the fun! I took this picture on an outing with some friends that included a kebob wrap and being nice to hobos. I don't think my Spanish friends understood that concept but they were pretty cool about it. That's what I love most about Spain so far- the people are incredible! Making friends is so easy because everyone is so open.
These two above photos are from a mini procession through the Centro one evening. These are very common especially during Easter week- which here is called Semana Santa- when day long religious marches happen. They wear those hats that, in America, are associated with the KKK but here are a symbol of faith in God and Spanish tradition. My host dad told me I might get to wear one which I think would be both an incredible experience and a funny thing to take pictures of.
My current host family has a vacation home in Marbella, a tourist city on the outskirts of Malaga. It has both a beach and a pool in addition to the house itself which can sleep up to 10! The day I went here we stayed at the pool and barbequed, but I'm hoping to go back to go to the beach. It's different than the beaches in Malaga because the sand seems cleaner- most of the beaches here are man made so it's easy for the sand to end up as dirt.
When we went to Marbella my host sister, Ana, was in charge of showing me around. This is the pool that we spent the day at- I fell asleep in the sun, but luckily my host mom, Isabel, covered me up with a towel to avoid getting sunburnt. Ana and I swam for a bit too, but the pool was very shallow. I could touch with my knees and still breathe the whole time!
To be entirely honest, I don't know the name of this place. I do know, however, that it's on the way from the Centro to the train station. Here everything is judged by its distance from the Centro. Buses are either entering or exiting it. It's actually very close to the center, so it proves to be a very convenient reference site!
Monday, October 10, 2011
Time Warp
I never knew time could be so fickle. I've been here ten days, though depending on the minute that time could feel closer to ten weeks, ten hours, or anything in between. The time doesn't pass by quickly here, but it sure doesn't drag on either. The days I spend in Malaga, Spain seem to wax and wane unpredictably.
Sometimes this time warp is good- like when I can't tell how long I've had my friends here because we're already so comfortable with each other. Or when I can mostly understand the teachers but they still don't make me do any work. Or when I can just hang out with my host family and I don't feel like I have to do anything extra special, but I'm still new enough that they get to ask me questions (which I like answering).
However, it can also affect me negatively- like when I think I can go to bed when everyone else goes to bed, but I can't because I'm still a bit jet lagged. Or when I hop on the bus and think I know Malaga really well but instead end up stranded 30 minutes away from my school with ten minutes to get to class. Or when my Spanish "skills" deceive me and I end up saying "yes" to something I didn't want to do.
All "good" and "bad" aside, however long the time has been that I've been here has been incredible. I think one of the reasons my hours seem like minutes and my days seem like weeks is that I have so many new things jammed inside my head. Apparently when your brain can't take anything else in, it loses its knowledge of what "time perception" means. And it makes sense that I have no room left- I am learning about culture, people, Malaga, Spanish, customs, the world, and even Greek (I am taking 5 language classes in case anyone was counting). But most importantly, I am learning about myself in relation to all of those things.
Regardless of how quickly or slowly the time passes, the time I've spent here has been time well spent. Every day I am grateful for something new, and I realize how lucky I was to have certain things back home as well. I like the contrast (proof that I am my father's daughter) and look forward to more of it in the near, or far, future.
If you'd like to know anything specific about my exchange experience, email me at hannahleahgold@gmail.com or message me on Facebook.
Keep calm and travel on.
Sometimes this time warp is good- like when I can't tell how long I've had my friends here because we're already so comfortable with each other. Or when I can mostly understand the teachers but they still don't make me do any work. Or when I can just hang out with my host family and I don't feel like I have to do anything extra special, but I'm still new enough that they get to ask me questions (which I like answering).
However, it can also affect me negatively- like when I think I can go to bed when everyone else goes to bed, but I can't because I'm still a bit jet lagged. Or when I hop on the bus and think I know Malaga really well but instead end up stranded 30 minutes away from my school with ten minutes to get to class. Or when my Spanish "skills" deceive me and I end up saying "yes" to something I didn't want to do.
All "good" and "bad" aside, however long the time has been that I've been here has been incredible. I think one of the reasons my hours seem like minutes and my days seem like weeks is that I have so many new things jammed inside my head. Apparently when your brain can't take anything else in, it loses its knowledge of what "time perception" means. And it makes sense that I have no room left- I am learning about culture, people, Malaga, Spanish, customs, the world, and even Greek (I am taking 5 language classes in case anyone was counting). But most importantly, I am learning about myself in relation to all of those things.
Regardless of how quickly or slowly the time passes, the time I've spent here has been time well spent. Every day I am grateful for something new, and I realize how lucky I was to have certain things back home as well. I like the contrast (proof that I am my father's daughter) and look forward to more of it in the near, or far, future.
If you'd like to know anything specific about my exchange experience, email me at hannahleahgold@gmail.com or message me on Facebook.
Keep calm and travel on.
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