makenadingwell – Page 2 – GW Blogs from Abroad

Surprising Spanish Superstitions

AdminOctober 3, 2014December 14, 2018

Javier, my Spanish oral communication professor, is the king of trivia. Over 6 ft tall and with a well-kept dark beard, he towers over the four of us in class. Like most of my Spanish professors, he's inexplicably enthusiastic and passionate about everything he talks about. After every class, even on a Monday morning, we walk out cheerful and with a handful of facts.
The week before our program headed to Barcelona for an excursion, Javier took a detour in class to explain some occasional Spanish superstitions and quirks.

First off, Mondays, not Fridays, that were the 13th of the month were unlucky. One is advised not to board a ship, get married, or start a job on the 13th. (Martes 13 - Ni te cases, ni the embarques.)
Some people think it's bad luck for a woman to put her purse on the floor. "Money will fly away on the floor."
A black cat crossing in front of you is unlucky if it is from right to left.
If you feel like you are having a bad day, you say you, "woke up on the left foot."
To be left-handed is called zurdo or siniestro, which is like "sinister," because "the devil is in the left hand."
In extreme cases, yellow can represent the devil. So don't buy yellow clothes for a gift for a newborn baby.
Salt shakers should not be passed hand to hand at the table. One should put it down for the other to pick up. According to Javier, centuries ago some people were paid in salt so it was very precious.
While sweeping the floor, if the broom hits someone's foot, they will never get married.

We all immediately picked up our bags from the floor and I took off my yellow bracelet. As if we didn't already feel lucky enough to be in Spain, but one step closer to being Madrileñas

Forbidden Topics of Conversation

AdminSeptember 29, 2014December 14, 2018

By makenadingwell

I never thought the Scottish and the Spanish had much in common. Maybe blood sausages and a fondness for sports, but even that was a stretch. Nevertheless, the past week has been filled with conversations about Scottish independence and the potential influence on the issue of Cataluña in Spain.

To be fair, they warned us before we met our homestay mothers, “There are three things you shouldn't talk about: religion, politics, or football.” However, after only two weeks, religion had already come up a few times. The second topic of politics arose naturally over paella on Thursday afternoon, the day of the referendum. Reports about the upcoming vote in Scotland, or Escocia, were continuously broadcast on the television or radio every night that week, but I tried to tread lightly in conversation. The Scottish referendum was watched and reported on in great detail in Spain due to the notable influence on the possibility for Catalonian independence, and it seemed like everyone had an opinion in Madrid.

As Pilar, my host mom, took her time ornately preparing the salad and paella, since lunch is a multi-course meal here, the radio played various interviews of opinionated individuals in Cataluña and their view of “Escothia,” as they said in their Spanish accents. After we sat down and I complimented her on her renowned paella, she asked my about my morning classes. I delicately referenced my Political Science class and the debate we had about Scottish Independence. My professor was an expert on the Cataluña case, but I didn't know which side she supported so I spent some time in class trying to gauge her reactions.

She smiled and explained the complexity of the topic, particularly because it seems like everyone has a connection to Cataluña. She also avowed that everyone in Spain had an opinion because the Spanish are equally passionate and stubborn. She assured that we would all learn the next weekend especially on our program excursion to Barcelona. I nodded in response and referenced the lack of similar independence movements within the United States and she agreed. She looked up from her paella, smirked, and said in Spanish, “Seems like your country is better in both politics and football, hmm?”

A Morning in Madrid

AdminSeptember 17, 2014December 14, 2018

By makenadingwell

8AM – I leisurely eat a small breakfast of toast with olive oil and salt with my host mom as I describe the “meet-and-greet” event I went to the night before with other students studying abroad in Madrid. She warns me about the Greek boys, describing the heartbreak endured by a previous girl staying in her home. “Él tenía una novia.” Ah, girl liked boy, boy had girlfriend. We continue to talk for a while after eating, a Spanish habit known as “la sobremesa” which literally translates to “over the table.” My host mom continues with a story about her daughter and an overly infatuated Chinese boy who studying abroad together in Orlando, Florida years ago.

8:45 - I grab my bag and say “hasta luego” to my host mom. Downstairs the doorman says both “hola” and “buenos dias” each morning before I walk out to the metro stop directly outside the door. Although it’s extremely convenient, I admittedly really miss jaywalking to class in D.C.

8:50 – After walking briskly through the small, but busy station, I wait for the next train coming in 5 minutes. Unlike in Washington, or most cities in the U.S., there’s a fair amount of eye contact and prolonged stares exchanged between waiting. I could be sporting churchgoing attire and still be stared at by a middle-aged woman as if I was wearing revealing short shorts, which seem to be undoubtedly trendy here.

9:00 – I arrive at Nuevos Ministerios, my transfer station to take the Cercanía train, which travels to areas more outside of Madrid. The platform is packed with other students from la Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, many wearing the aforementioned short shorts and huddled in groups, chatting loudly. Very few wear headphones or stand by themselves.

9:05 – The train pulls in slowly and I most likely forget to press the button to open the door so if it wasn’t clear that I’m a foreigner, it is now. We all shuffle in and students maintain their huddled shapes as I grab a seat. I pull out a reading for Spanish Literature class and the man next to me reads some of it too over my shoulder. The train passes slowly out of the Madrid and the empty dry land looks like southern California. Another GW Madrid student gets on at the next stop and we chat about the “meet-and-greet” too and I reference the prior warning about Greek boys.

9:25 – Since the train stops right on campus, we walk among the other students to class after stopping for a quick espresso at the university cafeteria. Then it’s all “vale, vale, vamos” from there.

Tapas in Our Laps

AdminSeptember 10, 2014

Dingwell1 — Tapas with GW Madrid students

“You’re studying abroad in Spain? That sounds like fun. What will you be doing there?” Months before leaving I was repeatedly prompted with this type of query at every dinner party or family gathering. After a few rounds of responding with, “going to art class in the Museo del Prado, taking classes at a local university, and excursions to Galicia, Barcelona,” it sounded exciting, but almost predictable. Yet again and again, weeks before I even started to pack, I was probed to describe dreamy expectations of my upcoming experience in every aspect.

“I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time there.” I nodded. “Once, maybe ten or eleven years ago, John and I went to Madrid for a day on the way to Barcelona and…” I nodded more. I heard lots of unspecific stories about how much they liked the Prado and how great it was to see the flamenco dancers, but nothing very concrete. At this point, after I’d dispensed my class schedule and planned intercontinental trips, I regularly whipped out one conversation piece.

“I read that they eat a little differently in Spain, etiquette-wise. Apparently you are supposed to keep both hands visible during the meal, as in on the table not on your lap. They also don’t eat butter with their bread and always keep the fork in the left hand, no switching.” My grandmother and her friends particularly enjoyed this topic at a brunch once, but I thought it was more fun-fact material, solely for pre-departure chatter.

However, at our first dinner, the fun-fact became more like our first challenge. Dr. Carmela Hernández, our Resident Director, repeated the same facts I had been both sharing and largely ignoring at meals. As we struggled to eat our fish, she filled us in on many more tips. Never yawn with arms stretched in public. Look at people in the metro, it’s okay, it’s normal, it’s entertaining. Don’t walk barefoot. Try to eat your hamburgers with a fork and knife. It’s gra-thi-as.

Three days in, and many plates of rabo de toro (bull’s tail), croquetas, ceviche, and chorizo later, some of us are still missing our mouths and dropping our food on our napkins. Nonetheless we are one step closer to being Madrileños and qué será, será, tapas in our laps and all.

Preparing for Madrid

AdminAugust 13, 2014

travel book — Travel book from my sister's in Delta Phi Epsilon

My sorority has a tradition for all girls going abroad. At the end of the last meeting of the spring semester, each girl is given a guidebook for the country they are traveling to. The best part of the gift is the collection of scattered comments left by sisters throughout the pages. For my book, there was advice from younger girls about the best cafes they visited in Madrid and forewarnings from older sisters who studied abroad in Barcelona about streets to avoid. Each chapter included scribbles in Spanish and warm wishes for an adventure they would live vicariously through me.
In May, I flew to Colombia to start a summer intern program and spent multiple flights jotting down notes from each section of the book. I slowly built a bucket list. I’d catch a Real Madrid match, then take a train to Grenada, see Barcelona at dawn, and find a rooftop restaurant in Seville. There was also a less romantic, yet more realistic list mounting. I needed to get a visa, practice my Spanish, book flights, see my doctor, and much more. For an avid procrastinator, the latter list was intimidating not only by its length but by its hard deadline. I am going to Spain. I can’t get an extension on visa appointments and the reality of my future has set in and taught me so much already.
All in all, I can’t wait to return to life in Europe and to get to explore Spain with fellow GWU students. At first the idea of a program for only GWU students alarmed me, but after spending the summer in Colombia with students from all over the hemisphere, I found comfort in the idea of studying my university peers in Madrid. As I looked through my guidebook waiting for my appointment at the Spanish consulate, I realized that there’s something inspiring about always keeping a little bit of home with you wherever you go. ¡Hala Madrid!