Worldly possessions

Most people have in their homes a fair number of things that are very important to them, many irreplaceable. There are probably lots of old photographs, antiques passed down from grandparents, and baby's first shoes tucked away in a chest somewhere. A preschooler's first drawing might be in a box in a closet, and there could be childhood toys under a bed.

But when you decide to pack your entire life in a suitcase and move to another continent, those things generally don't make the cut for the luggage weight limit. For me, that was all left behind at my parents' house. It occurred to me recently how different the feel of a home is when it's filled with these kinds of personal things, or when everything is new (to you). That's not to say that I don't love my apartment and haven't enjoyed my almost two years living here. But I got to thinking recently about what physical, worldly possessions I have with me here in Spain that x number of euros can't replace. To be honest, there's not much. On one hand it's a good feeling, knowing that you're not tied down too much. But on the other, it's comforting to have some reminders of friends, family, and memories with you. Here are a few things I have with me here that money can't replace.

U.S. measuring cups. There's nothing nostalgic about these particular measuring cups (and spoons). It's a set my mom happened to pick up somewhere, just to have extras, not long before I came to Spain. But I do treasure them, because thanks to these I can easily follow American recipes without converting to the metric system. I can make my favorite sugar cookies that taste and smell like Christmas to me. I can make my mom's biscuits to go with Thanksgiving dinner. Losing these wouldn't be the end of the world, but the fact that these are in my kitchen drawer makes this apartment just a little more me.

My backpack. This backpack has been with me since the beginning of my globetrotting tendencies. I bought it in 2007 for my trip to Australia, and since then it has been to just about every country that I have. I remember clearly trying on nearly a dozen backpacks at REI, weighing the pros and cons of each, excitedly talking to the salesman about my upcoming trip. In the end I was extremely happy with my purchase, and five years I still am. Sure, if this were to disappear I could go get a new backpack, but I surely wouldn't find this exact one I've grown so attached to, and it wouldn't come with all the memories.

Childhood books. To find these I actually rummaged through boxes and bookshelves of family memorabilia. These are not just any copies, but the actual books that my mom read to my brothers and I when we were little. They're some of my favorites (especially The King, the Mice, and the Cheese), and I brought them with me to read with students. These have provided for some of my favorite classes ever. When she let me take these, my mom made me promise to take care of them because she wants to read them to grandchildren someday.

Grandpa's sweater. Last, and most special of all, is this sweater. It might look like any old thing you can get at JC Penny or El Corte Inglés, but it is far from that. My grandfather, my mom's dad, and the last of my grandparents, passed away last November. When I went home for Christmas a little over a month later I had the heartbreaking experience of going through my grandparents now-empty house to claim what memories I could. Upon entering the house, I made a beeline for the closet. My entire life I remember my grandpa in his sweaters. He had a few of them, but this gray one and a navy blue one my brother took were by far the most worn. We used to tease my grandpa during the summer that in a few short months "sweater weather" would be back and he could pull out his favorite wardrobe item again. I have this sweater here with me in Spain, and this, above everything else, feels like having a piece of home and family with me. I wear it nearly everyday when I'm at home, but it never leaves the apartment. It's far too precious for that.

Beyond the plateau of language learning

If you've ever learned a language by spending time in a foreign country, you will know what a roller-coaster of a process it is. If you've never had to use the language outside a classroom before, the start may be bumpy. Why didn't your teacher ever teach you helpful little words like ticket office, and why didn't you pay attention during the lesson on giving directions?

(Tangent: Why did my Spanish teachers tell me that it's "doblar a la izquierda" when in Spain it's unequivocally girar? Ugh.)

Once you get through that rough patch, you will absorb the language like a sponge, depending obviously on how much you immerse yourself into it. If you listen to and read a language all day, before you know it you will find new words and phrases sneaking their way into your speech.

The part that comes next is more challenging, and it's where I find myself now. There will be a point at which your vocabulary and grammar will be sufficient to communicate nearly anything you want to. There will still be plenty you don't know, but using what you do know you can describe your way around the gaps in your knowledge. The phrases you put together might not be quite how a native speaker would say something, but you easily get your point across. If any of the above applies to you, congratulations, you've reached the language learning plateau.

In order to improve from this plateau, you need to make a concerted effort to fill in those gaps, take every opportunity to listen to native speakers and read in the language. This is my latest project, which I am going about in a variety of ways.

First, and I am ashamed to admit I haven't done this until now, I am reading in Spanish. Not just skimming through a newspaper each morning, but tackling a book.

I admit, I'm slightly cheating. I've read this in English (My Sister's Keeper) and know the story, but that doesn't mean there isn't plenty for me to learn in reading it in Spanish. It's a slower process, as would be expected, because I want to look up every single word I don't know or even have doubts about. Because I know the story, I can stop more and reflect on the specific language used. What phrases are used in more colloquial situations, and which in more formal? I find structures I've never heard before and suddenly have a new (more native!) way to say something.

Second, writing down all new vocabulary I come across, and then actually studying it! This notebook and my pocket dictionary come with me everywhere.

Third, every few days a couple words get put on this board in my entry way so I see them all the time.

The fourth, and most helpful step in pushing my Spanish beyond the plateau? Let's just say I've found my own personal human dictionary. But more on that later :)

5 Things to Consider Before Working Abroad- Tripping guest post

By far the most common responses I get from readers are questions about moving overseas, finding work, and setting up a life. I had many of the same questions before I came, so I understand perfectly.

The folks over at Tripping recently asked me to write a piece answering these very questions, so without further ado, here it is. Enjoy, and as always, feel free to ask me any other questions you might have.

Photo credit: www.livingabroad.com

In which my body becomes a classroom prop

Last week I was teaching my students vocabulary for physical descriptions of people. Lesson learned: Spaniards are not shy and do not sugar coat, especially when it comes to the human body.

Example 1: I was explaining the slight difference between skinny and slim (flaco y delgado). The other teacher decided to help me out. "For example," he said "Amy is slim, but she's not skinny." Twenty five pairs of eyes turned to me, looked me up and down, analyzed me from all angles. Maybe it's just me, but I don't think actual humans, present in the room, would be used as real life examples of body types in the U.S. We're a bit more sensitive.

Example 2: With their new vocabulary students had to write a description of a celebrity and the class had to guess who it was. I don't remember all the details nor the exact words, but want to take a guess who the red-headed, overweight singer was?

Maybe I'm a little worked up in Adele's defense because of this, but really? Look up at the drawing they had as an example for "overweight" and compare (contrast!) to Adele. Maybe it's my fault for not giving my students vocabulary for body types between slim and overweight (read: normal, average, beautiful), but I had no desire to argue with the student and draw any more attention to the debate.

Spain definitely doesn't take any shame in describing people, on both ends of the spectrum. Men can freely call other men handsome without accusations of being gay. When someone thinks you are good-looking, they generally tell you. This can be in the form of a coworker telling you you're especially guapa today, or random men on the street shouting at you as you walk by (aka piropos, but that's for another post). Here, it's just a part of life.

On not drinking coffee

There´s one little reason why I can never be Spanish. Some would even say I´m not quite fully human. I don´t drink coffee.

Is this in my flat? Yes. Do I use it? No.

It´s really quite simple. I don´t like the taste. Countless friends here and at home have insisted, "Here! Try this. There´s so much chocolate/cream/caramel/hazelnut/you-name-it in here you can´t even taste the coffee." I oblige, take a sip. Nope, all I can taste is the coffee.

Vocabulary that has not been added to my Spanish

I know it would be easy enough to acquire a taste for coffee. I could start with sugared down drinks and work my way up. But I have absolutely no desire to begin a potentially very addicting habit. I survive just fine without all that caffeine and sugar in my diet, and I keep a few extra euros in my pocket everyday. Here in Spain it´s not near as expensive as the $5-at-Starbucks-twice-a-day trend back home (a café con leche runs about 1.20€-ish).

Both in Spain and in the U.S., drinking coffee is a huge part of the culture. How many times have you heard, "Let´s go grab some coffee" as a euphemism for "Let´s go to some little place where we can sit and chat and also happen to have a drink in our hands." Okay, so maybe it only sounds like that to this non-caffeine addict. I so badly want to take part in this social activity. I want to hang out with my friends when they all meet up for coffee. Especially in Spain, this is an excellent way to while away the evening, or to stall until it becomes an acceptable time to eat dinner (never earlier than 9:00pm).

Luckily for me, there are alternatives that still allow me to take part in this coffee shop/cafetería tradition. Back home I have tea, iced tea, and my usual preference, cream-based frappuccinos. Here in Spain, it´s all about Cola Cao.

 It's basically the Spanish version of Nesquik, readily available in any proper establishment. Do I feel like a child when a group is all ordering coffee and I chime in "Oh, and one Cola Cao!"? Yes, I definitely do. Do I care? No. I'll take awkward stares over drinking coffee any day.

Although only a simple glass of Cola Cao, it will always taste better when your grandma makes it.

A little bit louder now

Spain is a loud country. No if's and's or but's about it. If you've ever been here you undoubtedly agree. If you want to be heard, you simply speak louder than anything and everyone around you. After a year and a half in Spain, I still sometimes have to remind myself that two people shouting at each other is not necessarily an argument. That's just a normal conversation, which is perfectly acceptable to have on the bus, at the supermarket, or in a restaurant.


What does that mean for classrooms in Spain? Definitely not this:

Hand raising- a concept I've had to teach my students

Spanish classrooms are quite like the rest of the country- loud and disorderly- at least in comparison to those in the United States. Obviously this isn't true of all of them, but based on my experience in two primary schools and that of my friends, it doesn't seem to be an unfair generalization. Working in schools here at first was a huge culture shock for me, and I spent quite a while wondering how, or if, anything was ever accomplished in schools. Students don't ask to leave their seats and are often wandering around the room. Interrupting someone because you have something to say is completely normal. And there is shouting. Lots of shouting. I feel like I spend half my class time trying to get my kids to shut up and listen. But just like everything in Spain, it's a bit different from what I'm used to, but it seems to work for them.

Case in point: last week a particularly soft spoken girl was beginning to read aloud from a book. It immediately became evident that there was just too much chitter chatter going on.

"Why are you all talking?!" my co-teacher demanded of the culprits, "Catherine is reading aloud and I can't hear her!"

"Well, she just needs to speak louder," a member of the guilty party explained matter-of-factually.

I literally burst out laughing because this comment illustrated the Spanish mentality perfectly. It wasn't her fault that she was talking out of turn, it was Catherine's for not being loud enough.

Oh Spain.

Adjusting to being unadjusted

A question I often get from friends when I'm back in California is if it feels weird to drive after having not driven for so long. Here in Spain, I walk or take buses or trains just about everywhere I go. But when I'm home, you bet I drive. Otherwise I'd never make it out of my parents' house.

In Spain, my trips in cars look more like this

 After my semester in Italy, and being home for Christmas during my first year in Spain, driving felt like a whole new sensation. The power of the gas petal under my foot was invigorating, as if I was fifteen again and experiencing it for the first time. Flying down the freeway was a new joy. On the flip side, sitting in southern California traffic was a new nuisance.

However, the past couple times I've been home I noticed that driving felt different, in that it felt exactly the same. In fact, this past Christmas, I was ten minutes down the freeway on my way to a friend's house before I realized, "Hey, this is my first time driving in months!" It didn't feel like anything different. It was more of a "Oh, I'm driving again. Meh."

My only conclusion- I've become adjusted to being unadjusted. Whatever muscle memory is involved in driving a car, mine can apparently now be turned back on without me even realizing it. Whether that's a good or a bad thing is debatable, but I think it's indicative that bouncing back and forth between continents is normal for me. Such is my life.

However, coming up very soon on my to do list- learn to drive a manual transmission. Working on becoming more European by the day.