Zoe Goldstein – Page 2 – GW Blogs from Abroad

The One-Month Mark

AdminOctober 7, 2015December 14, 2018

Happy October! I had to stop for a second while I was dating this blog post because I was shocked at the realization that I’ve now been in Madrid for over a month. I seem to have very little concept of time here. The days all start to blur together, and the entire month of September feels like it went by in one short breath. I’m amazed at how much I’ve learned, grown, and become accustomed to in such a relatively short period of time. I can’t say that I can call this country home yet, nor do I feel entirely comfortable with the language and customs, but I am definitely on my way there. And that’s something I never thought I could have accomplished before I came here.

For the first time since I arrived, I was able to spend this entire week enjoying the city of Madrid, including the weekend, since I had no travel plans. I thought it would be beneficial for me to actually get to know the city that I am living in, since that’s a huge part of studying abroad. I spent a lot of time with my host mom this weekend. Yesterday we went to a market in our neighborhood (Chamartín) filled with authentic Spanish food – all the fruits, vegetables, meats, cheeses, breads, and pastries you could ever want and more. My host mom is an amazing cook and she’s very passionate about her dishes, so it was exciting for her to be able to show me how she makes Spanish food and what types of foods work together, etc. We spent almost two hours at the market just browsing (we only bought a few things for lunch that day). It made U.S. grocery stores look overpriced, low-quality, and altogether inferior. I’m definitely going to miss always having fresh food when I get back to the states!

Today, like every Sunday, my host mom’s daughter, son-in-law, and two granddaughters came over for a family lunch. It’s a nice little break for me because my host mom doesn’t speak a word of English but her daughter speaks a little, so if I don’t know how to say something, she can help me. I’ve noticed that although the importance of family is universal, Spaniards have even more of an attachment to family than is common in the United States. It’s common for children to live with their parents until they’re in their mid-twenties, and though some argue that it’s for economic purposes, it is also just a cultural norm. From what I’ve seen, there are no dorms at the university I go to here – everyone still lives at home with their parents, and they commute to school every day on the train or by car. They usually go home in the afternoon (as I do) for lunch, and return to school after for the rest of their classes. During the day, often times grandmas will take care of their grandkids and grandparents in general have a significant role in raising their grandchildren. When their mothers get old, sons and daughters are usually responsible for taking care of them, and they sometimes even have their mothers come live with them. Every time my host mom’s family comes over for lunch on Sundays, they stay until at least 7:00 or later and Skype with family that are out of town, or watch a movie, or just talk. I think it’s a wonderful family ritual and I’m very inspired by the importance of family that I’ve found here in Spain.

Although I don’t want to get too political on this blog, something else came up this week that had an impact on me because of the profoundly different experience I had with the issue in Spain as opposed to what I would have in the United States. I was in the shower on Thursday when my host mom knocked on the door of the bathroom and said in Spanish, “Something has happened in your country.” I quickly dried off and went into the hallway, where we listened to my host mom’s radio in silence as I learned yet another shooting happened at home. My roommate and I listened sadly as we heard the numbers of dead and wounded at Umpqua University in Oregon, expressed our concern, and then casually went back to what we were doing, which was getting ready to go out for the night. When I walked out of my room to leave, however, I saw my host mom sitting in an armchair with the radio next to her, tears in her eyes, shaking her head and muttering, “Qué horror… Qué horror…” (“How awful”). In that second, I understood the real tragedy that’s facing Americans today. After witnessing Spain’s horrified response to the shooting, I see that Americans, including myself, have become numb to mass gun violence. I’m not saying we don’t think it’s absolutely horrific and tragic, but we have grown accustomed to hearing these things on the news. For Spaniards, this is not something they’re used to hearing, so it has a bigger impact, as it truly should. I don’t want to make this a political statement, but I do feel that seeing such horrors happening in my own country from an outsider’s view really makes me think about my perspective of the United States. This realization has been one of the most profound experiences I’ve had abroad yet. I continue to wrestle with the idea (for the first time in my life) of how my country is perceived by the rest of the world. It’s something that I believe Americans should take much more seriously.

In all, I’m having an experience here that I never could have dreamed of. Though I sometimes get homesick, I wouldn’t trade my time in Spain for anything, and I know I will return to the United States with a better sense of the world as well as a better sense of myself.

"The Republic of Cataluña is Coming:" Reflections on Barcelona

AdminOctober 7, 2015

The view taken from Montjüic Mountain, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea

Buenas noches! I’m currently writing this after just getting home to Madrid from an action-packed weekend in the beautiful city of Barcelona. One of the wonderful things about GW Madrid is that there are a few excursions around Spain that are included in the program. That includes free transportation, hotel stays, some meals, and even some money for cultural experiences for students. We left bright and early Friday morning for Barcelona aboard the high-speed “Ave” train, which only took about two and a half hours (I slept most of the way). We arrived around 10:00am and hopped on a bus for the next four and a half hours while our guide (our program director, Carmela) gave us our own personal tour of the highlights of the city. We stopped at Park Güell, which is a public park designed by famous Barcelonan Antoni Gaudí. We also stopped for a quick outside view of the Sagrada Familia, an unbelievable church also designed by Gaudí. Later, we ate lunch at a beautiful seafood restaurant overlooking the Mediterranean. It was a day straight out of a Spanish novel.

On Saturday and Sunday, we visited countless museums, the stadium from the summer Olympics in Barcelona in 1992, the Plaza de Cataluña, a market area called Las Ramblas, the inside of the Sagrada Familia, and Casa Battló, yet another one of Gaudí’s amazing architectural feats. I’m exhausted, to say the least. All 19 of us passed out cold on the train on the way back to Madrid tonight. But it was the experience of a lifetime, and I got to do most of it for free (and with my wonderful new friends) thanks to GW Madrid.

Inside the Sagrada Familia, the famous church designed by Antoni Gaudí

Our timing in Barcelona impeccably coincided with a very important election day in Cataluña. Many people don’t know this (I didn’t know this until I started taking higher level Spanish courses), but Spain has several different comunidades autónomas (autonomous communities) that make up the country as a whole. For ages, some of these regions have experienced nationalist movements in which many citizens want to separate from the Spanish nation and become their own separate countries. One of these regions, the Basque (Vasco) region, is actually known for some horrific terrorist activity through a nationalist militant group called ETA. These autonomous regions often even have their own languages. Barcelona belongs to the region of Cataluña, in the northeast corner of Spain. The primary language spoken there is not Spanish, but a language called Catalán. In fact, I found that more natives from Barcelona spoke English than Spanish as their second language. It seemed odd to me that I was still even in the same country as I was in Madrid. It was almost as if in the United States, a large state like Texas or California decided that they were going to have an official language other than English.

While we were there this weekend, elections were being held to vote on whether or not Cataluña should separate from Spain and become its own country. The referendum didn’t pass, but there were certainly signs of stirring political activity there. On the walls of the Metro, there were window stickers proclaiming (a la Game of Thrones): “The Republic of Cataluña is Coming.” The flag of the Independents hung from many balconies. I began to see that the use of the Catalan language in Barcelona is quite a huge political statement. It demands that Spain recognize the separate Catalan culture that still thrives within its borders. If anything, the elections this weekend symbolized Catalan pride and belief in their “national” culture, which I find admirable as long as it doesn’t cause violence (like ETA in the Basque region). There will no doubt be more elections such as this one in the future, as the tide of nationalism grows more powerful. Being a political science major, this topic definitely intrigues me, and I feel that I have learned about it in unprecedented ways by witnessing it firsthand.

As for my home city of Madrid, I have fallen in love with it. Next weekend will be my very first weekend without any kind of trip outside the city, so I am hoping to really get to explore and enjoy where I am going to be living for the next three months. I can’t believe I’ve almost been here a month already. I’m so excited to see what’s next!

Is Culture Shock Really That Shocking?

AdminOctober 7, 2015December 17, 2018

By zoegoldstein23

Before you leave to study abroad, it is likely that you will hear the words “culture shock” many times. People will tell you that one of the most difficult things about studying abroad is getting used to the culture that surrounds you and its quirks, customs, and rituals. I assumed that adjusting to a new lifestyle would be awkward and troublesome at times, but I didn’t realize how completely and unforgivingly my life would change in my first week in Madrid. Living with a host family has forced me to adopt customs that are completely outside of my understanding and sometimes even ability. A few nights ago, my host mom had to peel my apple with a knife for me because I didn’t understand that it’s not socially acceptable to take a big bite out of an apple using your hands. Another time, at an orientation meeting for my university, our program director told me (jokingly) I would never be able to find a husband because I “laugh too loudly.” It has taken me a while to understand the bluntness of this culture, but I am beginning to realize that nobody means these things offensively – they’re just trying to help me assimilate.

What has also intrigued me about Spanish culture is that even though we eat much later (after 2:00pm for lunch and after 9:00pm for dinner), and people go out much later (no one leaves the house before 1:00am), people still wake up as early as they do in the United States. If I have dinner at 9:30pm, go out for some tapas and drinks at 11:00pm, and don’t get back home until 3:00am (which is even considered EARLY here), I still have to wake up at 7:00am for school. The saving grace in this exhausting culture is the siesta, in which people take a few hours after lunch to rest. It isn’t abnormal to sleep for two or three hours in the afternoon. Socially acceptable napping – isn’t that the dream?!

Another difficulty I’ve come across is the language barrier. I’ve been taking Spanish classes since seventh grade, yet no classroom experience can prepare you for the time when you need to know the language to literally live your daily life. All of my classes, which include subjects like language, literature, history, and art, are all in Spanish, and many of my professors don’t speak English or can’t speak it very well. So, when I come home from school exhausted every day from constantly having to translate in my head, I then realize that I have to communicate with my host mom who doesn’t speak a word of English, either. The upside of this, however, is that my Spanish has improved by leaps and bounds just within one week. I already feel like my host mom and I can understand one another better, and I feel more comfortable when she corrects me. When you are forced to speak a language to survive, it’s really amazing what your brain can do in such a short time. There are some moments when I’ve even found myself thinking in Spanish. It’s quite an accomplishment when you can go to a store and ask for help finding something or order something at a restaurant with very little problems.

Overall, my first full week in Madrid has been exhausting but rewarding, and it has forced me to grow in ways I never anticipated. I've learned that culture shock is not something negative or something that should be feared. No one can prepare you for what you've signed up for, and that's the beauty of an experience such as the one I'm living now. I feel more like a madrileña each day and I'm looking forward to the next week ahead. Hasta luego!

Reflections on Spain's Historical Memory

AdminOctober 7, 2015

This 150-foot-tall cross stands above the Valle de los Caídos, where Franco and those who died in the Spanish Civil War are buried

Hola amigos! It’s been yet another amazing, eye-opening week here in Madrid. I’m honestly not sure how I am functioning right now - between classes, homework, going out, meeting new people, trying new foods, mini excursions around Spain, and trying to navigate my way around a new city in general, sleep has been hard to come by. But like they say, no one looks back on their life and remembers the nights they got plenty of sleep. So here I am, back in my homestay after yet another weekend of exciting adventures.

This week, I want to talk about Spanish history and how it affects Spaniards today. Being a political science and history double major at GW, the mixture of culture with history intrigues me. When thinking about contemporary European history, Americans often forget about Spain altogether, since we focus so much on the World Wars, the Holocaust, the Cold War, and other large-scale events as such. Many people forget that Spain endured a devastating Civil War from 1936-1939. In this case, unlike the American Civil War, the antagonists (Franco’s fascist political party) actually won, and Spain lived under harsh dictatorship for almost 40 years. When Franco died in 1975, the country transitioned mostly peacefully to a constitutional monarchy and has been that way ever since. Many older members of our host families (including my host mother) lived many years during Franco’s dictatorship. Some even have memories of the Civil War, passed down from their parents who witnessed it. My host mom knows very little about the war itself because although her father fought in it, he “refused to talk about it.” There is a certain historical memory that you can almost sense in the eyes of the older generation who lived through the horrors of that war. No one talks about it, and no one asks.

This past weekend I visited the Valle de los Caídos (Valley of the Fallen), a Catholic basilica and monument erected near the city of El Escorial, about an hour away from Madrid. To get there, you have to take a bus from El Escorial’s city center and drive up into the mountains. The monument was commissioned by Franco in 1940 to create a memorial for those who died in the Spanish Civil War. Hundreds of thousands of bodies – soldiers from both sides of the conflict – are entombed in mass graves surrounding the monument and basilica. It was built by Franco’s prisoners of war over a period of about 18 years. As my friends and I sat on the bus chatting about unimportant things, suddenly we all fell silent as we drove around a bend in the road and saw a massive cross on top of a mount of granite. We later learned the horizontal beam on the cross was two football fields wide, and the statue stood at 150 feet tall. As we approached the monument, an eerie feeling spread over the group. This monument was constructed by Franco to “honor” those who died for and against his cause, but built by his Republican prisoners of war in slavery. The view from the monument and basilica was absolutely breathtaking – we were surrounded by cavernous mountains and lush greenery, highlighted against a bright blue sky.

As we walked into the basilica, the doors closed behind us and everything suddenly became dark and cryptic. The church was beautiful in its own haunting way. However, it was clearly a show of Franco’s power. The statues of angels that lined the walls carried swords and spears and wore veils that covered their eyes completely. Two rooms with entrances to the tombs extended from each side of the altar. Beneath the alter was none other than Franco himself, buried underneath yet another giant cross. I sat down in disbelief to attempt to understand what was in front of me. I couldn’t comprehend how the many Spaniards around me could walk peacefully over and around the grave of a dictator who had most likely been responsible for the deaths of family members, friends, and acquaintances within their lifetimes. It seemed incredibly unjust that he was buried in a beautiful tomb in the center of the church, while the bodies of the fallen (those who died BECAUSE of him) were shoved carelessly into mass tombs surrounding him, that only those with special access could even see. I realized that this wasn’t really a memorial to the fallen. It was a monument to Franco himself, and the bodies served as a testament to all that he had “achieved” in his life as a general and a dictator.

I became so upset that I had to walk out. I sat down and thought about what I had seen, and was especially perplexed as to why so many Spaniards could visit this monument and not literally spit on Franco’s tomb. History is complicated. I understand now that sometimes the only way a group of people who witnessed atrocities can carry on is to try to forget. And that has definitely happened, to an extent, here in Spain. In Madrid, you can walk down the Calle de los Caídos de la División Azul (The Fallen of the Blue Division Street), which was named in honor of the Blue Division, a part of Franco’s army that volunteered to go fight alongside the Nazis in World War II. Many other streets are named after various generals, officers, and slogans from Franco’s regime, and they still have yet to be changed. I have learned a lot about historical memory by living here for just two and a half weeks. It has made me think about how Americans have responded to atrocities as well, such as the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and how different cultures react differently to devastating historical events. It seems that there is no “right” or “normal” way for a group of people to cope with tragedy. However, it is extremely important to learn from the past and eventually come to terms with it, so such tragedies don’t happen again.

Breaching the Comfort Zone: My First Three Days in Madrid

AdminOctober 7, 2015December 14, 2018

By zoegoldstein23

“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”

Greetings from Spain’s beautiful capital city!

I arrived in Madrid at 10:00am on Thursday, September 3 after approximately sixteen hours of travel between flights and layovers. I hadn’t slept in over 24 hours, I hadn’t spoken Spanish in four months, and I had never in my life traveled so far on my own. The days leading up to my departure were filled with frantic packing, endless last-minute trips to Target, many tears, and even some regret. I questioned everything about my decision. Why did I choose to leave my GW friends for an entire semester? Was I doing this for the right reasons? Will I even enjoy myself while I’m there, or will I just be miserable and homesick?

I quickly learned since arriving here and talking with my new friends about their pre-departure nerves that these feelings are very normal. But no one prepares you for the challenges of coping with them. I remembered the terrifying experience of first coming to GW freshman year, but I felt like this was a completely different kind of fear. I was going to a country where my native language isn’t primarily spoken, I didn’t know anyone, and I didn’t have any kind of emotional safety net whatsoever. It took an immense amount of courage to get on the plane that day. For those of you who are thinking about going abroad or have already made plans to go, this is not meant to scare you – this is meant to show you that whatever you are feeling, whether it’s excitement, nerves, or even pure indifference, you are allowed to feel that way, and however you may feel pre-departure is normal.

For the first three days of the program, my group of nineteen students stayed in a hotel in the city and had orientation dinners, went on excursions, and became very close friends. Today, we split up to go live with our host families, which was yet another difficult milestone in this whirlwind of a week. I quickly discovered that my host mom is absolutely wonderful and treats me like I’m her own daughter. She is patient and kind and an AMAZING cook. I’ve already had almost all of the traditional Spanish dishes in one day – paella, gazpacho, chorizo, and tortillas patatas, just to name a few. I may return to the states in four months with a little extra padding, but hey, when in Spain, right?

In all, these last few days have been exhausting, long, and emotionally and physically taxing, but incredibly rewarding. I get more and more comfortable with my Spanish each day. I have learned that I am already capable of much more than I thought. As the GW madrileños start classes this week, we will enter the university with the usual nerves but also a sense of newfound confidence that we never anticipated. We’ve conquered the streets of Madrid at 3am, we’ve blundered our way through ordering new foods at restaurants, and we’ve thrown ourselves headfirst into a brand new culture with unique customs and quirks. From the first night, when we struggled to peel an orange with a fork and knife, to now, when we have had multiple full meals with our host families, it seems that adjustment to life in Madrid is 100% possible.

Hasta luego – read next week for more updates!