Personal Experience
My Language Query
Before I arrived in Barcelona, I was told it was a very American city, everyone spoke English. Imagine my surprise when I arrive to a host mom who speaks absolutely no English and my Spanish is a little rusty. In that moment of culture shock, I was not prepared to be communicated in a language besides my native one.
After a few weeks in the city and taking Spanish class, I was already feeling more confident in my Spanish. Once I could order at a restaurant, I felt invincible. The query came when I was trying my best to communicate in Spanish and all I got was English in response. They made it too easy to revery to my first language. While I felt guilty about this, I soon discovered that English was the common language spoken between natives and travelers, not just Americans. English is the second language of many countries and so it is the common ground between Spanish and Swedish for example. I was just lucky enough to have that second language bond be my first language.
Even though English was prominent, especially in touristy places. I decided to always begin in Spanish, no matter how terrible it was. I could usually get my point across well enough and if they actually responded in Spanish I felt like a superstar. I wasn't able to order fully in Spanish at Starbucks until today, but I felt like that was the biggest accomplishment.
Overall I was amazed at how much my Spanish speaking confidence improved over my four months abroad. Sitting in the airport to fly home I passively understood the Spanish announcements and signs. I still don't think I can truly comprehend how surprisingly well I know Spanish. Compared to native-speakers, it's pitiful, but compared to many other U.S. citizens, I feel pretty darn smart.
Chef for a Day
A day trip to walk on castle walls and learn how to make paella? Count me in! On a Friday morning, myself and four other study abroad students took a short bus ride to the village of Hostalric, north of Barcelona. We started the excursion at a "main street" cafe where we met our cute tour guide and caffeinated up for the day. She walked us through the medieval gate of the city, led us through a cave-like passage, and unlocked the stairs to a military tower. The old structures offered absolutely sweeping views of the surrounding mountainous areas. I could even pick out a few more castles on the hills nearby. It was surreal to literally walk on the walls surrounding the city from tower to tower above the houses.
We ended our historic journey at a state-of-the-art instructional kitchen with two walls of windows that allowed us to keep an eye on all the stone walls we had just toured. A German chef met us at the kitchen to coach us along as we made our lunch: paella! This traditional Spanish rice dish has become a new favorite of mine since living in Barcelona. We started chopping vegetables to sauté for the base of the fish stock that would come in at the end of the process. These leeks, carrots, celery, and onions were combined with a random assortment of ocean life and boiling water, salted heavily, and then literally place on the back burner. Next we added some cooked some shrimp in our sizzling paella pans and got some mussels going as well--two more elements to be added at the end.
Then things really got cooking. We added chicken, rabbit, sausage, and cuttlefish to start browning in the hot pan, along with onion and red bell pepper. Once that was all coming along nicely, we added tomato sauce, white wine, and started the simmering process. Later we eyeballed some the fish stock and finally stirred in the rice. Then it was time to wait. We stirred and shook and put the lid on to let the rice absorb all the yummy tomato-ey liquid.
After what seemed like an eternity we cranked up the heat on our nearly finished paella to get the perfect crust on the edge of the pan: my favorite part! We all sat at the table and started with salad until our paella was ready to dig into. The first bite was definitely worth the wait. It was not the most delicious paella I've had, but it was the first one I made, so that made it the best in my book.
The view. The food. The experience. It was all unbelievable. I felt so lucky to learn from a professional how to make this staple Spanish dish. It was definitely a process and a matter of intuition, in adding more liquid for example. I can't promise I'll be able to recreate it to Spanish standards, but practice makes prefect, right?
Becoming a Seafood Person
I boldly ordered fish at a restaurant for lunch today and it was served with the head still attached, aka very fresh. As a six-year-old, I might have screamed. (I had a traumatic fishing experience.) You see, before coming to Barcelona, I practically refused to eat anything that lived in water. But when my host mom asked me if there was anything I didn't like to eat, I wasn't going to tell her that. So I began to eat seafood in Barcelona mostly out of necessity. I tried mussels, shrimp, octopus, and many different kinds of fish. After visiting the market, I realized my choices were justified in a region with such access to fresh fish. Why not take advantage of it? If I was going to like seafood anywhere, it was going to be less than a mile inland from the Mediterranean Sea.
Over the first month of my experience, little by little I said yes to seafood, and I ended up liking it more and more. I got cravings for seafood paella. I would choose the squid-ink paella (arroz negro) over chicken. Oddly enough, the only seafood I ended up still NOT liking was squid. But like anything I encountered on my plate in Europe, I would try it and I would tolerate it. By the end of the semester, I even enjoyed the fishiest of dishes. It was a miracle. I really could not believe that I had done such a 180 from despising seafood to ordering it, but I told myself I was embracing the local culture. To be determined if I continue to embrace the local pond fish culture back home.
Fifteen Years Later
If you would have told me as a five-year-old that a decade and a half later I'd be showing my pre-k friend around Barcelona, Spain, I probably wouldn't have understood what you were trying to say. But the point is, it happened. My friend since 2003 and I are studying abroad this semester just 217 miles apart from each other. That's closer than we usually go to school in the U.S.!
We had ourselves a weekend in Barcelona to celebrate this miraculous occurrence. I was so pumped to be able to show someone around the city I had gotten to know over the past two months. I was a proud personal tour guide. We walked so much our feet hated us, but we sat and ate plenty too. Our craziest meal was courtesy of a weekend lunch deal. Although I tried my best to communicate with the Spanish waiter, I was surprised when he brought four appetizer and a whole bottle of wine for the two of us to share. Moreover, three of the four appetizers were miles out of my comfort zone. Salad: great. Shrimp: ended up being the best. Fried little fish: how do I eat this? Giant calamari: my worst nightmare. We did some damage on the appetizers, but that hindered our progress when it came to eating our individual paellas that came out as the main course. It was a struggle but totally a laughing matter. We were there for three hours. It was a feat of a feast and an unforgettably hilarious and bizarre experience. I wouldn't have wanted to take it on with anyone else!
We did more normal things throughout the weekend, too, including museums, parks, and La Sagrada Familia. (We also got on the wrong train for the first time my entire semester.) My favorite adventure was sitting on Barcelona's famous bunkers, watching the sunset, and talking about everything that has happened in our lives since kindergarten. What an incredibly magical moment. I'm so thankful to have a forever friend that would travel all the way from France to come experience Barcelona with a pseudo-local like myself. Kick you girl! (Stay tuned for my expedition in France!)
Advocating for My Education
Today I volunteered to work individually on two group projects for my art history course. On one level, I did it because I like control; however, I also knew I could make the projects more personalized if I worked on them independently. One of the projects was curating a hypothetical art gallery, a very practical task that I may need do as part of my future career. Because the project had this tight connection to my career path, I wanted to take it seriously and get the most out of it to be best prepared for my future in museums. The second project was a term paper with the goal of basically discussing something we had already covered in class. Because the assignment was not as interesting to me and very much geared toward the group dynamic, I proposed a completely new topic to my professor. I explained to him how I wanted to become a conservator and how conservation practices were sometimes controversial due to the subjective nature of art. Luckily, he gave me the green light to write about that and whatever else I thought would pertain to the course and my future. No rubric, just a word count target, a preferred style of formatting, a due date, and high expectations. Just write a lot and well. What more could I ask for than to write a paper about a hot topic in my future career field with no guidelines?
I was even more thrilled when I started researching the material. I found so much academic information about conservation treatments and practices. I even discovered many scientific takes on the topic, which was encouraging for a science major, like myself, entering this often art-dominated field! The paper was not easy by any means--it took countless hours of researching, note-taking, formatting, and analyzing--but I was passionate about the subject matter, which made it feel less like an assignment and more like preparation to become a conservator. I am so grateful to have a professor who was willing to invest in my future to the point of letting me personalize my learning.
Surviving Midterms Abroad
Believe it or not, I actually have to study while I'm abroad. I'm taking five classes which meant five midterms in three weeks. I'm happy to share that I did survive, but it was definitely an unexpected challenge. While I love my classes, they include a lot of material and are taught in a unique style, so it was hard to anticipate how the first exams would go. Luckily the professors were very transparent about their expectations and I felt prepared when the time came. However, it was a huge struggle to concentrate on studying in this dynamic city! I fought an internal battle between wanting to make the most of my time here but also wanting to maintain a strong G.P.A. The sunshine was so enticing that I compromised by studying outside (hello tan lines!) and sipping fresh orange juice at a local cafe while I sifted through by notes. My school was also very supportive, providing free massages and pizza. (I've never seen such a swarm of college students.) The high concentration of exams made me realize the semester was definitely underway--as was my time in Barcelona. Studying abroad is a huge balancing act between learning and living life. I'm still working through how to manage everything I want and need to do, but I'm well on my way to feeling truly settled into life in this amazing place.
Valentine's Day for One
"El Día de San Valentín" isn't really a holiday in Spain. Actually it's only celebrated as a knock-off of the U.S. version. Yes, some stores have promotions on chocolate and flowers, it may be a little harder to book a table for two, and already-prominent P.D.A. reaches its peak, but that's it. The 14th of February is not very publicized or even recognized among locals as anything other than a day on the calendar.
Perhaps it was because of this cultural ambivalence to the day of love or because I was thousands of miles away from the people I care about, but I used the day to appreciate myself. I took advantage of McDonald's 2 for €3 McFlurries and savored them both. I painted my nails. I enjoyed a workout. And I took the opportunity to tell the important people in my life how much I love them. Instead of making it a day to wish for love or subscribe to the commercialism, I made it a day to love what I already had: an amazing experience in Spain and a huge support system back home, loving me from across the ocean.
Embracing My Midwestern Roots While Abroad
After being in Spain for nearly three weeks, I've come to appreciate the things that remind me of my home state of Iowa. Corn, tractors, and deer-crossing signs make me smile. I feel proud to tackle a large chunk of meat with a fork and knife. The smell of bonfire feels like a comforting hug. It's these tidbits, which I usually take for granted, that seem familiar even across the ocean.
Living abroad, especially in the city, has helped me to embrace the small-town culture I come from. Removed from the Midwest, I now more fully appreciate open spaces, large lakes, rolling hills, and grazing animals. The open-air atmosphere and "Iowa nice" community are very much parts of my background and my comfort zone.
As someone who is planning to live in a larger city after college, this unexpected longing for farmland was a little psychologically unsettling. However, I realized that it's not that I want to live in the middle of nowhere for the rest of my life, it's that I can now proudly define where I'm from. I'm from the place where people wave at every passing vehicle. I'm from the place where we work hard and aren't afraid to get dirty. I'm from a the place where Hawkeye football and beer are the perfect pair. I'm from the place where you can walk for miles and only see your own footsteps. I'm from the place where the weather is as unpredictable as the construction. I'm from the place where family is the definition of love.
All those things and more are what the Midwest means to me. It's not so much that I miss all those comforts of "home" (although I do), it's that my home made me who I am. It's knowing that the Great Plains and Loess Hills of Iowa will always be there to welcome me whenever I need a break from the mountains or the sea or the city. Thank you family and friends who have made Iowa a place where I feel at home. I promise I'll never forget where I come from. No matter how far I travel, I will always look forward to coming home.
The Thing about Study Abroad Professors
After one week of classes, I can say I'm very much looking forward to what I will learn in Barcelona this semester. A large part of this anticipation and excitement is due to the professors I have, who seem to be distinctly set apart from most American university educators. So what's the difference?
Their Global Perspectives
Two of my professors are originally from the United Kingdom. Two were born in Madrid. The other one I'm not sure about, but it's definitely somewhere I've never been! They've studied, worked, and taught in England, New York, Mexico, Canada... These people have worldwide perspectives on people, places, ideas, and most especially the subject they are teaching me. On the first day of class, my history professor from Scotland explained how, growing up in Britain, he was given a very different version of the American Revolution than what I grew up hearing. His told a tale of the "ungrateful colonists," but he also realized that we Americans probably saw it as excessive taxation without any say in the Parliament. I believe this international point of view brought by my professors will be of utmost value since I am taking mainly history courses. History itself is recorded by people with differing perspectives on events, which can often lead to biased reports and therefore skewed learning. I'm excited to hear more sides of the (his-)story.
Their No-Technology Policies
While this sent some students running, I was happy to comply with the mandate of pencil and paper notes. No laptops. No tablets. No phones. While notebooks are typically my first choice anyway, it was refreshing to meet professors who had such strong beliefs and evidence to support their rules. One professor even revealed that she had taught a semester where she allowed half her class sections to use technology and the other half could not. Guess which sections got significantly (3%) higher overall grades? Exactly, the ones who weren't emailing, shopping, and scrolling through social media during lecture. Another professor pointed out how--because you cannot write as fast as someone speaks--taking notes by hand forces your brain to process and consolidate the information, while typing notes is just transcribing, not learning. That means less time spent studying (or rather re-learning) later on? Color me convinced.
Their Interactions with Students
"Take a guess. The worst you can be is wrong," is how my professor tried to get us to participate in class on the first day. Granted the guess was wrong but it was nice to be encouraged for trying. As I've experienced so far in Spain (even on syllabus day), these classes run on student participation. The professors want to hear what their students know, how they think, and why they are enrolled in the class. From a student perspective, this makes me feel valued and involved, even if my insights aren't exactly on par every time. By the second day of class, I was very surprised to hear more than one of my professors call me by name. How can they know my name already? I thought. Last fall, few of my professors knew me by more than my test scores. I was even more taken aback to hear this outside of class. They said hello to me. In the hallway. By name. After knowing me for three days. I have concluded it was because I participated on the first day of class, and that's the best participation ribbon I've ever received.
Needless to say I'm optimistic about the change of pace this semester will bring to my collegiate academic endeavors. I'm taking classes that require me to think in different ways than I usually do with professor who are a bit more intense than I've had before. I can already tell it will be a semester full of pondering gazes, puzzled faces, and lots of thoughtful "huh" sounds. But as always, I'm embracing the challenge.