I have now been in Spain a full week. It’s strange to think about, and yet I feel like I’ve been here much longer. I’m starting to get used to a lot of things, like public transit. Especially now that I have my bus card, it’s much easier and less scary.
Alicia and I were late to class yesterday. There was much more traffic at 8:30 than we expected, meaning we waited for the bus a good fifteen minutes. Luckily, though, our professors were both very understanding. Maybe it’s the more laid back Spanish culture, or just that our professors understand the difficulty of adjusting to the rhythms of such a different city. Whatever the cause, I am grateful.
My professor for Cultural Realities is Luis Delgado. Thus far I like him, although after only one hour it is difficult to form much of an opinion. We’ll be doing of lot of discussions of current events in that class, as well as a weekly journal about various subjects related to contemporary Spanish culture. Afterwards, I had my dance class. We are learning the sevillano, which is related to flamenco, but different. It’s a partner dance, to be done in social settings. I’m not a good dancer, and I’m not very good at it. But that’s ok. It’s fun, and something distinctly sevillano (as the name would imply). Lola, our professor, told us that unlike other classes, we should not practice out of class. I think she doesn’t want us to remember wrong.
After classes, Kerry, Jenny, Alicia, and I met up with a friend from TU. Her name is Laura, and she is also studying here in Sevilla, but with a different program. It was very nice to see a familiar face. We went to Café de Indias and spent a while talking.
When Alicia and I returned to our home, Carmen’s sister and brother-in-law were visiting. Her brother-in-law had brought over his recently published doctoral thesis. Carmen introduced us, and we spent some time talking. I realized this was the first time I had really heard a group of Spaniards conversing together, because they used slang and turns of phrase that they generally avoid when they know they’re talking to Americans. For instance, they would use “hombre,” as a form of address/interjection, even when talking to women. I suppose it’s kind of how we might use “dude.”
This morning, Alicia and I overslept. We awoke with enough time to dress and get to class on time, but just enough. I took me forever to explain to Carmen that we overslept and so we didn’t have time to sit down for breakfast, and no, it was our fault, not hers (as she got up after we did, because she didn’t hear us moving around), and I’d like a piece of bread for the road, but it’s fine as it is, I don’t need jam, or butter, or oil, no really, plain bread is fine . . . sigh. I think I got everything I meant to say across, but this language barrier can be exhausting.
And now for a few assorted impressions and observations:
I’ve heard that one of the biggest causes of culture shock is food, but I have had very little problems with that. Granted, my host mom doesn’t like pork, so that has made adjusting my diet much easier. But although there are some things I’ve had that are very different, I like just about everything I’ve had. It seems to me that the flavors of Spanish cuisine are more muted and subtle than those of say Mexican or Indian or Chinese cuisine. As I mentioned before, the flavor for a lot of dishes comes from olive oil. Everything is very savory, but not bland; there’s a depth to the flavor. This may be partially because my señora has high blood pressure, so she doesn’t put much salt or spices in her food. But although I often like very strong flavors (like chile or curry), I don’t find the food here bland at all. The desserts are less sweet than those in the U.S., but sweeter than those I had in Scotland. Also, one more random observation concerning food, I asked Carmen for café con leche in the mornings (coffee with milk), and rather than giving me a cup of brewed coffee with some millk to add in, she boils a pot of milk, and then gives me instant coffee to stir in. Generally I prefer the flavor of brewed to instant coffee, but I must say, I really like the milk base. I think also they drink whole milk here (at least, the milk in our hotel was whole milk), so that makes it very creamy.
People here are very pushy especially when boarding or getting off the bus, or going through doorways. But they’re not as cold and grouchy as I thought they would be. In general, you don’t see strangers talking, or making eye contact, or being friendly with each other. I’ve heard from people that they’ve asked strangers directions, and received looks of “why are you talking to me?” But when there’s a reason to speak to a stranger—asking the price of something, sometimes asking directions, ordering in a restaurant—there are many who are very friendly, even with us obvious Americans. There was that lady in the tapas restaurant the other night, and a very nice man who explained to me how to recharge my bus card. It’s interesting, because socializing with friends and family is so important here. Meals take forever, because we sit at the table talking, and even still Carmen comments on how Alicia and I are always “in a hurry.” And in restaurants, the waiters tend to leave you alone long after you’ve finished eating—it’s not bad service, it’s letting you take your time. And yet, even though this aspect of a social life is so important, being friendly with strangers is so much less common (from what I have heard, this is even more true in other European countries).
There is a lot of construction around the city, or at least on my bus route. I’m not sure what they’re doing, but there seems to be a fair amount of growth in the city. There’s also a lot of restoration going on in all the historical sites (Plaza de España, the Cathedral, etc.). I don’t know if there’s usually this much restoration, or if there’s something big going on. Maybe they start this type of restoration every year before Semana Santa since they know a lot of tourists will be coming in.
I knew all the adults here, including the men, would be very well dressed, but what I wasn’t expecting was how well dressed the children would be. All the girls have cute little coats and cute little shoes, and they all wear skirts or dresses with stockings, and have little ribbons in their hair. The little boys all have little polos or button-up shirts tucked into little slacks, or sometimes shorts. I saw this one boy, maybe 7 or 8, riding a bicycle, wearing khaki slacks, a pale pink button-up shirt, with a pea green sweater tied around his neck, and his golden blonde hair nicely combed to the side, and all I could think was how very European he looked. We’ve commented on this in my language class and Prof. Dorado (she wants us to call her Carmen, but I’ll be more formal here so I don’t confuse her with Carmen, my host mom) said that all the parents want their children to be “principes y princesas” (princes and princesses).
It’s been a little chilly and a little cloudy, with a fair amount of rain, recently. But what I call rather chilly, sometimes cold, the seviallanos consider freezing. I see them walking around with heavy winter coats and thick scarves, while I am taking off my winter coat because I am getting warm. It is however, very cold inside the houses, sometimes colder than it is outside. Prof. Dorado said it’s because most of the houses are prepared to deal with the heat that comes in the summer.
All for now! ¡Hasta luego!
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