Student Reflection
Mi corazón está en
Granada por siempre
I wrote about studying abroad in
general in my last post and about travel before that, but now I just have to
share my specific experience. Almost 2 years ago, in the spring of my sophomore
year of college, I spent a semester studying abroad in Granada, Spain and my
life has never been the same.
I knew I wanted to go to a
Spanish-speaking country to be able to complete my Spanish minor while I was
abroad and focus on class for my major upon my return. I ruled out Latin
America just because there were so many other places I wanted to visit in
Europe and I knew it would be easy to travel from country to country over
there. So I settled on Spain, but the next question was which city to study in.
I wanted a pure experience; I didn’t want the influence of Catalan that was so
strong in Barcelona. I didn’t want an especially big city because I wanted to
experience Spain, not a tourist destination. So that left Bilbao in the north
of Spain or Granada in the south. Both looked appealing, but the thing that
really convinced me was the living situation. Students in Bilbao lived in
dorm-style housing or apartments but in Granada students were placed with host
families. This sealed the deal for me; I would be totally immersed in the
culture and the language if I lived with a Spanish family, which was exactly
what I was looking for.
I filled out an application about my
preferences (did I care if my host family smoked? Had pets?) and about my
dietary needs. I am vegetarian so I was a little concerned I would not get an
accommodating family, but when I finally got the e-mail in December telling me
about the family I was placed with, it sounded like a perfect match. I couldn’t
wait to meet them when I arrived in January. When my whole group of about 70
students from 3 different Big Ten universities arrived in Granada, we all
stayed in a hostel together in the center of town. Our program directors took
us on tours and taught us things we needed to know in orientations over the
next few days and then it would be time to move in with our host families. The
day before our families would pick us up from the hostel, we gathered together
and received maps of Granada with our homes marked on them. When the secretary
of the school got to me, she said she needed to explain mine to me… I was
worried, and a little offended. Did I really look so dumb that I couldn’t read
a map?! But she handed me an envelope along with my map and explained that
there had been some kind of emergency and my host family couldn’t put me up
anymore. I was being assigned a new family—less than 24 hours before I was
supposed to go live with them! As you can imagine, I panicked. The Wi-Fi at the
hostel had broken, Verizon set up my international phone plan wrong so I
couldn’t make phone calls. I had no way to get in touch with my parents and
tell them everything had changed and give them my new address. My freak-out
continued pretty much until I arrived at my host family’s apartment the next
day. By then I was just nervous, my host mom was hard to read and I couldn’t
tell if we’d get along. I was so disappointed; I thought my other family was
the perfect fit, so how would this one be?
My “madre” lived with her youngest daughter, who
was 25, and her other 2 daughters lived nearby. Her husband had passed away
several years ago, but all her daughters came over to her place for lunch and
“siesta” that day to meet me. Now, like many people, I had studied Spanish in
school since 7th grade, so I thought that meant I knew it. Right?
WRONG. There is nothing like having lunch with 4 fast-talking native
Spanish-speaking women to make you realize you know NOTHING. I am someone who
has never been shy, I am the girl who was voted “Most Talkative” in high
school, but I could barely carry on a conversation with them. Fluent I was not.
I also tiptoed around the apartment for the first few days (okay, weeks). Even
though I was living there and had my own room, I felt like a guest in their
home.
Eventually, though, that feeling began to
dissipate. They were very sweet, welcoming, and understanding. My host mother
and sisters smiled through my “umms” and “uhhhs” as my brain struggled to
translate my thoughts from English to Spanish. They patiently waited when I
held up a finger and consulted my dictionary countless times. They also
corrected me sometimes, which was embarrassing as it sounds, but it really did
help. As the semester progressed, my confidence and proficiency in speaking and
comprehension rose so much my host mom even commented on it. One day, as we
were sitting on the couch talking and having a snack after I got back from
class, she mentioned how much I had improved. She said I didn’t pause as much
anymore, I spoke more fluently. This was the best compliment.
Besides just being able to talk to my host family
and have them better understand me, I grew close with my family. I went out
with the 2 younger sisters and their boyfriends and friends, I got invited to
family parties, I watched cartoons and colored with my host mother’s sassy
5-year-old granddaughter… I really became a part of the family and this shaped
my entire study abroad experience in a major way. I realize I was one of the
lucky ones; not everyone on my trip got a great family or bonded with them in
the way I did with mine, and for that I consider myself very fortunate. And to
think, this wasn’t even the family I was originally supposed to have! As my
real mother said, maybe some things happen for a reason and I was really meant
to live with the second host family I got.
Like I said in a previous post, some of my best
experiences happened when things did not go the way I planned. I guess Granada
is just the best example of that. I still write to my host family from time to
time and I plan to return to Spain after I graduate this May. And you can bet I
will be visiting the people and the city that changed my life more than once! I
hope everyone gets to visit the beautiful and enchanting city that is Granada
someday. There is a famous line by the Mexican poet Francisco de
Icaza: “Dale limosna, mujer, que no hay en la
vida nada como la pena de ser ciego en Granada.” It translates to: “Give him alms, woman,
for there is nothing sadder in life than being blind in Granada.” I can
honestly say this sentiment is true, it would be an incredible shame to be
unable to see the beauty in Granada, and I can’t wait to see it again.
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