Dificultades

I mentioned earlier that I would do a “You Know You’re In Spain When…” post, and that’s coming, but I was thinking about this yesterday and decided to do this entry now.

Spain is great.  I’ve had so many cool experiences here, many of which I have talked about here.  But studying abroad is not all sunshine and sangría.  Here are some of the less-sparkly things about being an American living in Madrid.

Time Difference

Spain is 7 hours ahead of Chicago.  Except for a 2-week period when it is 6 hours ahead, thanks to Daylight Savings.  Daylight Saving Time has really messed me up, mostly because I forgot it existed, and partly because Spain doesn’t do Daylight Savings until the end of March, instead of the middle.  This makes things very confusing and difficult, especially if you have an appointment to call someone at a certain time in Chicago.  Which brings me to my next point:

Being in a Foreign Country While Trying to Plan Your Life

I’ve applied for a summer internship, which in itself was not terribly difficult due to distance, thanks to modern technology.  I emailed my application to my mom who was able to print it and fax it, and when that failed, mail it.  The interesting part came when 1) I needed to call the place to verify that it arrived and 2) I needed to schedule an interview.  Because I don’t have an international plan on my phone, I’ve been using Skype.  Which is great, if the person you need to contact also has Skype.  Unfortunately, I needed to call a phone, not a computer.  Skype has an option that lets you call international phones for a very reasonable price, so I put 10 euro on my account and called Chicago.  The call went through fine, until I had to be transferred, at which time the call promptly dropped due to spotty internet where I live (those four bars LIED to me).  A second try got me through to an answering machine and I left a message asking the person I called to email me, explaining that I could not be reached by phone.  Thankfully she emailed me within a few hours saying they did receive my application and would like to set up an interview.  Great! But this meant that I would have to call them.  I was given possible dates and times and chose Wednesday at 3pm, thinking that I would be home in time from my night class that ends at 8 (remember, 7 hours ahead, so 3=10). 

Then Daylight Savings appeared out of nowhere, making it dawn on me that 3 really meant 9 and I might not get home in time.  I sent an email back apologizing and asking if I could change it to the following Friday.  This wasn’t a problem until a few days later when I realized I would be in yet another foreign country on that date, without a computer and with plenty of distractions.  I had to change my interview yet again, back to its original time.  I swore via email that this wasn’t a typical representation of scatterbrainedness from me.  But anyway.  I have an interview and I only hope I haven’t made too horrible an impression.  I mentioned this blog in my cover letter, so if you’re reading: PLEASE HIRE ME AS YOUR SUMMER INTERN! I’m perfect for the job; you won’t regret it.

  

Exchange Rates

The dollar/euro exchange rate sucks.  One euro currently equals about $1.40.  This doesn’t seem like much until you take 100€ out of your account and you are now down $140.  That 20€ dress you bought is actually more like $28.  I’m not even going to think about airfare right now.  It’s too depressing.

The Siesta

They weren’t kidding when they told me that everything here shuts down from 2-5pm.  Usually this isn’t a problem, as I’ll come home from class around 2:30, eat lunch, and relax or get started on homework.  However, some days I need to go run errands.  Last week, I needed to get some things done.  I needed a book for my class and I needed to put money on my pay-as-you-go phone.  I figured I would take care of this after class, as the bookstore and Vodafone were nearby and I didn’t want to go all the way back home and back.  Unfortunately, this was a day when I got out of class after 2:00.  I waited around until 4, when I was sure the stores would be open again.  False.  I was met with dark, locked doors.  I spent an hour walking around and sitting on a bench attempting to study while trying to ignore the PDA that was going on all around me.  I guess I was already in a bad mood but I was very annoyed with this Spanish tradition.  I made my way back to the stores and when the Vodaphone employee came to change the sign from “Cerrado” to “Abierto,” I was there waiting.  Silly Americans, always in a rush.

Naps are nice, but I honestly think that Spain would benefit from getting rid of the siesta.  There is a massive amount of unemployment here, and if the shops didn’t close in the middle of the day it would create an extra work shift and more people would spend money.  There.  I just fixed Spain’s economic problems.  Someone get me the Minister of Finance’s phone number.

Did I mention that the supermarket isn’t open on Sundays?  And Spain wonders why its economy is behind the rest of Europe’s…

Class in Spanish / Only Understanding Half Of What Is Taught To You / Convincing Spaniards That You Actually Are Smart

I’m taking a class at Universidad Complutense, the huge famous university here in Madrid.  I knew I wanted to take a class there with fellow Spanish students so I would at least feel like a semi-legitimate madrileño.  Because it was interesting and worked with my schedule, I settled on Psychology of Language.  Never mind that I am not a Psych major and this was not an intro psych class.  I figured that since I was taking it with another American who is  a psych major, I would be fine.  Ah, haha, silly me!

This class is at the Somosaguas campus, which is outside of Madrid and involves taking a bus after the metro.  Fine with me really, since I’m used to taking the shuttle between campuses at Loyola.  I got to Somosaguas early my first day of class, which was good because I could not find the classroom for the life of me.  Places in Spain, whether they be streets or rooms, are just not very well-labeled.  Given my stellar sense of direction, I usually need a big neon arrow pointing me exactly where I need to go.  After swallowing my pride and asking a few people, I found the room.  I noticed a blonde, blue-eyed girl sitting at one of the desks and sat down next to her.  I greeted her in Spanish but it became apparent, as I had guessed, that she was American like me.  I know the point of taking a class at Complutense is to meet Spanish people, but I was nervous.

The professor began class and, for the most part, I was able to follow what was being said and I understood the notes on the PowerPoint.  She spoke a bit faster than my IES professors, who also teach in Spanish but know that it’s our second language, but it wasn’t too difficult.  This is easy! I can do this! I thought to myself. Those happy thoughts abruptly ended when the professor said something about an activity and us having the rest of the class time to do it.  Um, what now?  We’re doing…?  Steffani, my American friend, knew just as much as I did.  We sat there feeling foreign and clueless until the professor came around and we waved her over.  “I’m sorry,” I said to her in Spanish, “but we’re a little confused.  What exactly are we doing?”  She looked at us for a second and asked “¿De dónde sois?”  We told her where we were from and she informed us that there was a Psychology of Language class taught in English that met in the morning.  Great, but I’m here to learn Spanish and that doesn’t fit with my schedule anyway.  She was really nice though, and explained what we were doing.

Since then the three Americans in that class (Steffani, Abby, and I) have been sort of tokens for examples, which honestly, is alright with me.  It’s already obvious to the rest of the class that we’re not from here, and it only makes sense that we’d be useful in a Psychology of Language class as we’re working our psyches quite a bit learning a foreign tongue.

We have to do a group project for the class, and when it came time to get into groups of five, Abby, Steffani, and I looked around the room awkwardly to find some people to join us.  We spotted two girls sitting two rows behind us, doing the same thing.  I asked them if they had a group and after a pause they said “no.”  Poor things, stuck with the Americans!  But they are really nice and I think we’re managing to convince them that we can function in class and will not lead them to failure.  We’re doing a presentation on speech disorders and they actually suggested we analyze an episode of House about aphasia.  There was a good deal of confusion regarding what we were doing and when we were meeting up, but hopefully we’re past that now.  I showed them the “One Semester of Spanish Spanish Love Song” and they seemed to find it hilarious.  Things are going slightly smoother now, but we’ll see what happens when we actually present.  Thankfully our professor told us Americans that we could take the final exam in English if we wanted to.  While I am all for immersion, I am even more in favor of not failing a class.

Being Away From Home

Yeah, I miss Chicago.  Lots.  I don’t regret leaving it for a semester but honestly I will be very happy to return.  I miss having a huge lake to look at while doing my homework, I miss skyscrapers, I miss maple syrup, I miss being able to just have a relaxed movie night at home with my friends, I miss my cats, I miss being able to just call someone and chat without worrying about time difference or using up the minutes on my phone, and I miss knowing everyday protocol for things like ordering coffee (though I’ve almost got that down here).  I also long for a normal eating schedule, with lunch at noon or 1:00 at the latest, and dinner at 7.  I’m hungry! 

Daily annoyances/living with a señora

I don’t have a lock on my bathroom door so I always bring my robe tie with me so I can tie it around the door handle and the heater, thus preventing door-openage.  My señora nearly walked in on me once, but luckily I was standing right near the door so I could prevent her from entering, but not before she pushed on the door repeatedly and then turned out the light. Um, hola?

My señora makes coffee and then basically leaves it sitting there until it is gone.  Therefore, it’s never actually good coffee so I’ve stopped drinking it.  She’s also obsessed with microwaving things and will often microwave food RIGHT after she finishes cooking it on the stove.  I managed to stop her last night.  Apparently she couldn’t see that the pasta was still steaming.

Dear Carmen: STOP PUTTING TOMATOES IN THE REFRIGERATOR! IT RUINS THE FLAVOR! DON’T PUT THE ONES I BUY IN THERE EITHER! The same goes for oranges, pears, and strawberries.  You’re killing the fruit and it makes me triste. :(

I caught Carmen wearing my socks once.  She tried to claim that she has some that look just like them and she thought they were hers.  She took them off right away and put them in the laundry, but still.  I was short on socks and I have never seen her wear socks with green and black stripes. Hmph.

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So there’s that.  Madrid really is a nice place to be and I know all my complaints have to do with me adjusting to living in a different place.  I know that I’ll miss things about Madrid, like cheap and delicious bar food (fried calamari and delicious ham sandwiches and croquetas) and tortilla and sangria.  Luckily I’ve learned how to make the last two.  It will pain me greatly to pay double or triple at the more expensive Spanish restaurants back home but it’ll have to be done.  And after I leave Spain I will probably suffer from acute castle withdrawal.  I’m also going to have to take great care to keep up my Spanish, as when I get back home I’ll have completed my minor and won’t need to take any more classes.  Maybe I’ll just watch Spanish TV and start hanging around Pilsen.