sin titulo

So, I had a minor breakdown yesterday. Ok major. I knew that eventually everything was going to kind of come down on me, but I expected the magicness of Sevilla to hold onto me more than just two weeks. When I had been in Valladolid for a week, I couldn’t take anymore Spanish being spoken to me and I wanted to go home. I’d been to Spain, it was cool, and now I could leave. Being away from home for six weeks is one thing…but I’m here until June 1st, like it or lump it (If I quit, I have to pay the government back for every centavo I’ve earned).

As I was getting home from work yesterday, I ran into Melissa, who was leaving for class. She informed me that I was to stay at home that afternoon and wait for the landlord to come by and fix one of our blinds on the balcony. The last time he came, he told me 4 pm and he was there at 4:20 (it’s typical for Spaniards to be a bit late). But I waited. And waited. And waited. Nevermind that I had my own things to accomplish that day, like looking for SOMETHING else to do with my time (since 12 hours a week is NOTHING). And by the time Melissa got home around 10 pm, I was still sitting on the couch, watching crappy Spanish tv and eating the pack of cookies I bought on saturday. I had to face it: I was depressed. I had an amazing city right outside my door, and no desire to experience it. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t make friends. I would meet someone who I thought I could have some kind of relationship with and never hear from them.

I think what’s been even worse for me is that I’ce lost all sense of identity. Being a teacher, or a professional for that matter, is new, and so is not being a student. I’m not busy here like I was while I was studying. There’s no beach here to go sit on like in Vdoid. I try and tell myself to be like Carrie Bradshaw and go to a movie alone or see an art exhibit all by herself. But the problem is, I really want to do these things with people. I could do it on my own, but it’s not as fun. I could go sit in a bar and have a beer by myself, but I would drink it fast and then leave and then just have to pee really badly. I could go watch flamenco by myself (as I have tried to do many times), but never seem to leave the house. I had to face it: I’m unhappy here. It’s not the experience I imagined. Eva, Melissa and I all have opposite schedules, and on the weekends Melissa is gone and Eva likes to go to a bar for a beer and leave at midnight. I don’t necessarily like discos, but I want to live like a Spaniard. Isn’t that why I chose not to live with Americans?

Today, I was supposed to meet two girls I’d met a few weeks ago at the Sevilla Auxiliares meeting, so I got up early and did my things and went into town to get a new bono and new sunglasses (Weird, my $6 pair from Target only last two months). I stopped by the Discover Sevilla office, a company that is like a refuge for Americans and hosts trips to Lagos, Morocco, etc., where I met David, Blair and Lindsay. Like me, Lindsay is an auxiliar with the Junta. She studied here in Sevilla (Am I the only one who chose not to go back to their study abroad city and try something different?!) and is kind of experiencing the same things as me. Her job isn’t what she expected it to be, and she hasn’t made a lot of friends. It made me feel better knowing I wasn’t the only one. She’s going to try and set me up with some volunteering or another job, and she got my number and kept saying, You have to come to David’s this Thursday! or, I’m taking you to Fundicion with me! So we’ll see. We talked about going to tapear this evening, but it’s 9 pm and I haven’t heard from her. Wishful thinking? I don’t know.

My mom says I need to give myself a little more time to make friends and really get acclamated. I wish I were living closer to Jessi and the girls so I could have fun like they’re having. Kait told me her liver hurt. Aside from having a mojito on Saturday and going out Friday, I can’t even remember the last time I just had a beer. Quite sad. Especially when it’s so cheap. I don’t want to waste a year just sitting inside stalking Facebook and wondering what I’d be doing if I were back in Chicago. I don’t want to EVER think that about something I was 95% sure about in the first place.

So, please, keep in touch with me so I don’t feel as alone all the way out here in the middle of Spain. Thanks.

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About Cat Gaa

As a beef-loving Chicago girl living amongst pigs, bullfighters, and a whole lotta canis, Cat Gaa writes about expat life in Seville, Spain. When not cavorting with adorable Spanish grandpas or struggling with Spanish prepositions, she works in higher education at an American university in Madrid and freelances with other publications, like Rough Guides and The Spain Scoop.


  1. […] While it was the direction I wanted to take after college, I felt utterly alone in Spain. I came without knowing anyone, with little Spanish and no idea what to expect in my job. The first few weeks were trying, and I was ready to up and go home. Meeting Kate and Christine, two guiris with whom I’m very close, changed everything (thankfully). When I read the following post, of how lonely and depressed I was, I cringe. What a difference a year (or five) makes. read: Sin Título. […]

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