Resources for Sexual Assault, Domestic Violence and Rape Victims in Spain

On April 11th, 2018, the Today Show aired the story of Gabrielle Vega, a young woman who alleged she was raped while studying abroad in Spain. While on a semester in Salamanca, Gabrielle contracted the services of a student-run tourism company, Discover Excursions, to travel to Morocco. Given that Morocco isn’t the safest place to explore at night, one of the guides (and owner), Manuel Vela Blanco, invited Gabrielle and two friends to his hotel room for a drink. With his back turned, she alleges, he poured a glass of champagne.

The next morning, she woke up woozy and realized she’d been violated by the same person entrusted to keep her safe in Morocco.

I wish I could say I was shocked, but I wasn’t. Rumors have long swirled around Manu and his employees  – I’ve been privy to them boasting about sleeping with multiple women a night – but he continued to run a successful tourism company whose target market was female study abroad students. I’m disgusted that I interviewed for Discover Excursions in 2009, the year Blanco Vela bought out the company and the rumors began emerging.

Since that date, more than 30 women have come forward with a similar story (not everyone was raped) and authorities in Spain are investigating the allegations.

I was deeply affected by Gabrielle’s testimony. Even as someone who has never been their client and much less their friend, I reached out to Gabrielle on social media and asked how I could help. Her request was simple: a list of resources for women who might find themselves in a similar situation. Working in higher education, I am familiar with Title IX reporting, with local resources in Madrid and how to file a police report – but there is not an extensive list.

I seek to provide that here. When I began this blog post in late April 2018, I had no idea of how reporting worked or that there was infrastructure in place to help victims.

Sadly, domestic violence and sexual assault are an everyday occurrence in Spain. Have you heard of La Manada, a group of men from Seville who were recently convicted of sexual misconduct after allegedly gang raping a woman at the San Fermines festival in 2016? Spain is behind the times when it comes to handling sexual assault and rape charges, and even something supposedly harmless like cat calls are commonplace – but citizens are thankfully speaking out, and each autonomous community has resources for victims – from hotlines to pamphlets to volunteers.

empty bench lonely

Please share the information about where to go if you are the victim of a sexual assault, of sexual violence, or of rape while in Spain. Even if you think it will do no good to denounce someone while abroad or you feel ashamed to report, now is the time that we must speak up. Below you will find a growing list of resources for the major study abroad cities, which happen to be many of Spain’s largest. If you have further information, please comment or email me so that I can update the list.

What constitutes rape or sexual abuse in Spain?

It’s helpful to know a little bit about law in Spain regarding sexual abuse, gender violence and rape, which is under fire with the La Manada conviction. Spanish penal code defines both sexual abuse (abuso sexual) and rape (violación) as an act against a person’s sexual liberty.

Much like a robbery or petty theft, there is a heavier penalty when violence is exercised against the victim. This could be through intimidation or force but can be difficult to prove – and this is exactly why the Manada, a group of five guys who gang raped a woman during the San Fermines festival, were let off. Worse, they filmed the rape and planned it ahead of time, sharing the crime on a whatsapp group.

Hermana yo te creo

The jail time associated with each is from one to five years if there is evidence of violence; if not, the maximum prison time drops to three years. Like I said, Spain is a little behind the times when it comes to punishing these sorts of crimes.

Spain-wide resources

If you are the victim of a sex-related crime in Spain, follow these steps immediately after the crime and making sure you are ok (better to have a trusted friend and preferably one who speaks Spanish):

  1. Have a medical examination performed. The word for rape in Spanish is violación, and you should keep a copy of the medical report for the police report.
  2. File a police report (denuncia) at a National Police Station.
  3. Contact the Servicio de Atención a mujeres víctimas de Violencia de Género (Support Service for Women Victims of Gender-based Violence, herein referred to as S.A.V.G.) – 24 hour service, where you will receive specialized social, psychological, and legal support and where they will help you to come up with a safety plan for potential risk situations. This service is available 24 hours a day, 365 day; the number is (+34) 900 222 100 and is free to the caller. You may also use this service if you are not a legal resident of Spain or in an “irregular” residency situation. Email is savg24h@madrid.es.

The emergency number in Spain (similar to 911) is 112. The hotline for women who have been physically or sexually abused is 016. Both hotlines are free to call and are available in several languages (some lesser-spoken languages are only available from 8am – 6pm during the work week).

If you are the victim of any sort of crime in Spanish territory (this includes Ceuta and Melilla), you are strongly encouraged to fill out a police report. This is called a denuncia, and it can be filed at any National Police (policia nacional) station, which are open 24 hours a day. Here is where to file a police report. Be sure to be as descriptive as possible, bring an ID with you and, if you feel your Spanish is not up to par, bring someone who can translate.

You can file in person, via telephone (at a cost) to 902 102 112 from 9am until 9pm. Victims of sexual abuse or rape cannot file a police report of this nature online. If the crime was committed outside of Spain but involves a Spanish national, it may be hard to file a report and you may get pushback – but that shouldn’t stop you from trying.

In Spain, gender violence, also known as domestic violence or violencia de género, is investigated and prosecuted via the Ministry of Health, Social Services and Equality (Ministerio de Sanidad, Servicios Sociales e Igualdad), they have an informational sheet about your rights (mostly directed towards victims of violencia de género). The Guardia Civil is tasked with investigating violent crimes against women and minors as part of the EMUME program. They have an office in each province, which you can download here. In addition, there is a Spain-wide toggle search of resources according to the type of service you are looking for, as well as geographic location.

I cannot tell if ATENPRO still exists and whether or not it is a program funded by the Spanish government or by the Red Cross of Spain.

Your country’s Embassy or nearest consulate will have resources, too, and it’s understood that the consular agents are tasked with protecting the interests of their constituents. Most Embassies are located in Madrid (a full list is available here) and many have consulates around Spain. The US has consulates in Spanish territory in Barcelona, Seville, Valencia, Fuengirola (Málaga) Las Palmas de Gran Canaria and Palma de Mallorca. Andorra is also under the jurisdiction of the US Mission to Spain.

The US Embassy website and American Citizen Services in Spain – including emergency services – can be found here. You can also request a translator through ACS.

20180505_134840

Additionally, most major cities have a branch of the Instituto de la Mujer (Spanish only). You can read about your rights in the event of a crime via an online contact form or find information about legislation in Spain regarding sexual harassment and asault. The organization is headquartered in Madrid on Condesa de Venadito, 34. The nearest metro stop is Barrio de Concepción (Line 7), or you can take bus 53 from Puerta del Sol. Below, I detail the contact information of the Instituto de la Mujer in popular study abroad and touristic destinations.

The city of Madrid has put out a short pamphlet (in English) about where to go and what to do if you have been assaulted or raped. Further, Red Ormiga provides assistance to undocumented immigrants, including in cases of rape or sexual violence.

If you suspect you have a sexually transmitted disease, called an enfermedad de transmición sexual, you can have a test performed at any public clinic, so long as you are registered through an empadronamiento.

Important: if the person harassing or violating you has access to your computer or phone, always clear your browser history. Many websites listed on this post will also have a button called “salida rápida” which will allow you to close the page quickly. I, unfortunately, do not.

Finally, you can choose to do online counseling via Better Help. If you are in Spain with health insurance, check out your options, as many programs will allow you to see a therapist as part of your coverage.

Pathways to Safety: an overseas resource for Americans abroad who have been victims of sexual abuse, rape or aggression 

American victims of sexual assault and violence have access to a toll-free crisis phone number. Dial the country code first, which for Spain is 900-99-0011. After dialing the country code, the victim will be prompted to dial the hotline’s direct number, which is 833-SAFE-833 (833-723-3833).

Important: For calls on a mobile phone, the call should be deleted from the call history log for safety reasons. On a landline, they should first hang up the receiver, then pick it up and dial another random number and then hang up again. This prevents someone from redialing, and this can help you stay safe at the hands of a person who is hurting you.

The phone number is for immediate response. You also have the option to email a crisis case manager at crisis@pathwaystosafety.org. The response time via email may be anywhere from two hours to six hours; in an emergency situation, a phone call would illicit an immediate response. If a victim chooses to report their assault to the police, an English interpreter will be provided upon request. If you are traveling alone, you can contact the U.S. Embassy to request that an officer accompany you for the medical examination in addition to a police station.

Pathways to Safety seeks to help victims of interpersonal and gender based violence, including domestic violence, sexual assault, dating violence, stalking, and forced marriage. At this time, they only help Americans who become victims while abroad in ways like safety planning, legal aid services, counseling, and transition and basic needs assistance either in a foreign country or back in the United States, whenever possible.

You could also contact RAINN – the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network headquartered in the USA. They have an 800-number and a live chat in the event you are a victim or would like to consult the statute of limitations.

Resources for sexual crime victims in popular study abroad destinations in Spain

This post is not meant to be directed only at students enjoying a semester in Spain. But the truth is that rape culture is prevalent in the US, particularly at the university level. Remember the Penn State sexual abuse scandal a few years ago? It’s estimated that one in six university students will be victims of sexual harassment or abuse.
Additionally, study abroad students are often more vulnerable – the drinking age is lower in many countries, they are out of their cultural and linguistic element and often lack the knowledge of how to deal with intense or potentially dangerous situations. There is even a 2013 study about how young women on a semester abroad are at a higher risk for becoming victims of sexual crimes.
I’ve taken the most popular study abroad destinations in Spain and found a few local resources. I will be adding to this list every time I find new or updated information. You can also check the site Securely Travel, which is a blog run by a former security adviser and who has covered Ms. Vega’s case.

Madrid

metro of Madrid

Madrid is regarded as one of the safest cities in the world, but lewd comments and catcalling are, sadly, commonplace in La Capital. You will find a number of resources here, including headquarters and a number of non-profits. This list will likely expand.
Important: If you are the victim of a violent crime and require a rape kit done in Madrid, you should go to Hospital de la Paz and ask for an evaluación forénsica to be performed. Be sure to fill out a police report prior to your hospital visit. Paseo de la Castellana, 261, metro Begońa (Line 10). +34 917 27 70 00.
You can find a list of shelters and resources in English, published by the local government, at this link (in Spanish here). If you are outside of the Madrid city limits, there are satellite offices and shelters in several large towns, published here.
  • APUNE – an organization of American university programs in Spain. They are located on General Martínez Campos, 24,between the Iglesia (Line 1) and Gregorio Marañón (Line 7) metro stops. +34 91 319 91 18.
  • SINEWS – a multi-lingual counseling company offering support for victims. Their offices are at Zurbano, 34. Nearest metro stops are Rubén Darío (Line 7) and Alonso Martínez (Lines 4, 5 and 10). +34 91 700 19 79; +34 60 926 93 23 is the emergency line.
  • Asociación Asistencia Mujeres Violadas – a non-profit that provides psychological and legal support to rape victims at Calle Alcalá 124, 1º A. Metros are Manuel Becerra (Lines 2 and 6) and Goya (lines 2 and 4). +91 574 01 10; asociacion@cavasmadrid.es.
  • Servicio De Atención A La Mujer (Sam) – a newly-formed division of the National Police tasked with investigating violent and sexual crimes. The Madrid-based headquarters is located in the Comisaría de Policía at Avda. Doctor Federico Rubio y Gali, 55; Metro at Francos Rodríguez (Line 7). +34 913 22 34 21.

To file a restraining order, you can do so at the located at the Comunidad de Madrid Dirección General de la Mujer at Calle Madrazo, 34, 3rd floor. The nearest Metro is Banco de España (Line 2); +34 91 720 62 38: or at C/ Manuel de Falla 7 , 2ª pta. (nearest metros are Santiago Bernabeu and Cuzco, both on Line 10) +34 91 720 62 38.

This is saddening but also necessary: In Madrid, you can now share where and by whom you were assaulted on this interactive map via Free to Be Madrid. I urge you to share your story, in English or Spanish.

Andalusia: Sevilla, Málaga and Granada

Barrio Santa Cruz Sevilla

In Sevilla (as well as Granada, Málaga and any other town in Andalusia), the Ministerio de Sanidad, Servicos Sociales e Igualdad and the division known as the Instituto de la Mujer are responsible for overseeing resources for reporting and attending to victims. The autonomous community-wide ministry is located in the capital of Seville at Avenida de Hytasa, 1, +34 95 500 63 00; the central office for the Instituto Andaluz de la Mujer for the entire comunidad is located in the center of town at Doña María Coronel, 6: +34 95 454 4910, consulta.iam@juntadeandalucia.es.

That said, you can find information about the Instituto de la Mujer in each province of Andalusia, as well as their satellite offices in other municipalities in the same link. The organization provides shelters and psychological help for victims of gender violence, as well as health and employment training.

Córdoba

Centro Provincial Instituto Andaluz de la Mujer Córdoba

Avda. Ollerías nº 48 (14071).

Teléfono: 957 003 400. Fax: 957 003 412.

cmujer.cordoba.iam@juntadeandalucia.es

Granada

Centro Provincial Instituto Andaluz de la Mujer Granada

C/ San Matías, 17 (18009).

Teléfono: 958 025 800. Fax: 958 025 818.

cmujer.granada.iam@juntadeandalucia.es

Málaga

Centro Provincial Instituto Andaluz de la Mujer Málaga

C/ San Jacinto, 7 (29007) Málaga

Teléfono: 951 040 847. Fax: 951 040 848.

cmujer.malaga.iam@juntadeandalucia.es

Sevilla

Centro Provincial Instituto Andaluz de la Mujer Sevilla

C/ Alfonso XII nº 52 (41002).

Teléfono: 955 034 944. Fax: 955 035 957.

cmujer.sevilla.iam@juntadeandalucia.es

  • The Servicio de Asistencia de Víctimas de Andalucía is a gender-inclusive psychological and judicial support service for victims of crimes – which includes foreigners, tourists and minors. There are offices in each province of Andalusia and the Campo de Gibraltar, and their services are listed in their English-language pamphlet.
  • The Costa del Sol chapter of Soroptimist International is active, championing for women’s issues and providing support in nearly four dozen languages.

There are US Consulates in both Sevilla (Plaza Nueva, 8) and Fuengirola, a town to the west of Málaga (Juan Gómez Juanito, 8).

If you need a restraining order, you can follow the steps listed on the Junta de Andalucía’s website.

Castilla y León: Salamanca

rainy in plaza mayor valladolid

While the Junta de Castilla y León is located in Valladolid, where I chose to study abroad in Spain, the capital isn’t home to a plehora of Erasmus students or co-eds on a semester overseas. The regional government provides a list of resources under the Health and Social Services Ministry and runs a program known as PAWLA to bring resources straight to victims of gender and sexual violence.

The Sección de Mujer of Salamanca – home to one of the world’s oldest universities and a destination for abroad programs, it located in the Edificio Administrativo de Usos Múltiples (ESAUM) on C/ Príncipe de Vergara, 53-71 – Planta Baja; (+34) 923 296 746 or (+34) 923 136 458. This governmental organism also provides help to family matters and those dependent on drugs; the list of satellite offices is found on the Familia, drogopendencias y mujer section of the Junta de Castilla y León’s website.

The central office for the Centro de Acción Social (CEAS), which deals with citizens in crisis, is located in Valladolid, but a simple Google search will yield the office nearest you – even if you’re not in a provincial capital. They will be able to direct you to more resources and translators, if needed.

Finally, the Asociación de Asistencia a Víctimas de Agresiones Sexuales y Violencia de Género is active in Castilla y León and partially funded by the regional government. León, Valladolid and Burgos are of note; the Salamanca office is located at C/ Corral de Villaverde, 1, 5ºB; the office phone is (+34) 923 26 05 99 or the 24-hour (+34) 609 83 53 36. 

Cataluña: Barcelona

parc guell barcelona3

Many will argue that Catalonia is not Spain, but the northeastern region of the Iberian peninsula is also known for being one of the more progressive. A simple Google search for this post brought back a number of resources for victims of sexual crimes, including free therapy sessions for victims of sexual crimes during youth, monetary compensations for victims and a number of organizations meant to protect and support victims.

While the official language of all of Spain is Castillian Spanish, it’s more common to hear catalán or inglés. That said, if you speak in Spanish in larger urban areas, you will be attended to in Spanish. Keep in mind that, at the time of publication, local law enforcement is upheld by the Mossos d’Esquadra, a division of the Civil guard whose day-to-day operations are run by the Catalan government. Within Catalonia, the emergency number 012 will connect you to the Mossos; you can also dial (+34) 932 14 21 24 outside of the region.

Like all other regions, you should follow the protocol of calling the police, having a pelvic exam and making a denuncia, as outline in this PDF about sexual assault and rape put out by the catalán government. To file a police report, the Mossos Denuncias page describes how and where to do so around the comunidad. And bravo to the Catalonian government’s website that has clear instructions and resources for the whole region, the most relevant of which are listed below.

The general hotline for victims of sexual crime in Catalonia is: (+34) 900 90 01 20 (24/7).

Two major hospitals in Barcelona will treat victims of sexual assault and have specialized units for their emotional and psychical treatment:

The public Hospital Clínic de Barcelona is one of the largest treatment centers in the region, and in addition to an ER and psychological units, treats victims in the Programa de Prevención y Tratamiento de las Secuelas Psíquicas en Mujeres Víctimas de Agresión Sexual c/ Rosselló, 140, bajos; (+34) 629 63 45 53. Note that the aforementions unit is only open Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays from 10 am until 1pm. Hospital Sant Joan de Deu has a Unidad de Agresiones Sexuales for sexually abused minors. Ctra. De Esplugas, s/n: (+34) 932 80 40 00.

  • Catalonia’s Instituto de la Mujer is part of the Minsterio de Bienestar y la Familia. Their page regarding sexual crimes is in catalán, but you can find the office at Plza. Pere Coromines: (+34) 934 95 16 00; icd@gencat.cat
  • The Oficine de Atenció de Víctimas de l’Delicte (OAVD) is a division of the Ministry of Justice that can help you with legal matters related to sxual crimes.Gran Via de les Corts Catalanes, 111. Edificio I. planta 3ª; (+34) 900 12 18 84 (toll free); atenciovictima.dji@gencat.net.
  • The Servei d’Atenció, Recuperación i Acollida (SARA) goes a step beyond by offering refuge to women, children and anyone who has been the victim of sexual violence as well as anyone in their family o immediate circle.. It is a division of DONA. C/ Marie Curie, 16: (+34) 932 91 59 10; sara@bcn.cat
  • Associació Assistència a Dones Agredides Sexualment (AADAS) provides survivors with legal and psychological support. (+34) 934 87 57 60; http://www.aadas.org.

Finally, there is a US consulate with select Embassy powers in Barcelona in the Sarrià neighborhood at Paseo Reina Elisenda de Montcada, 23; (+34) 93 280 22 27; the Ask Citizens Services email is barcelonaacs@state.gov. The nearest subway station is Reina Elisenda (the end of Line 12).

Communitat Valenciana: Alicante and Valencia

Fallera Women in Las Fallas

In Valencia, the Instituto de la Mujer is overseen by the Consejería de Bienestar Social and, at a more local level, the Dirección General de Familia y Mujer. Unfortunately, many of the websites and associations listed on the Consejería’s website were broken or out of date (the Plan of Action was last updated in 2012 and only gave actions through 2014, for example). You can reach the central line, operative 24 hours a day, at (+34) 900 58 08 88 or (+34) 900 152 152 for the hearing impaired. The Generalitat also lists police commissaries that have special attention to victims of sexual assault.

You may find that some services operate first in valencià, a language closely related to catalán. Those organizations with pages in English have been added here, though the most complete information will be in valencià or castellano.

  • Institut de les Dons in the Comunitat Valenciana is located on C/ Castán Tobeñas, 77 in the Ciutat Administrativa 9 d´ Octubre, torre 3; (+34) 961 24 75 89; mujer_web@gva.es. Closest metro is Nou d’ Octubre (lines 3, 5, 9).
  • Their counterpart Alicantina, la Coordinación La Dona, is on Av/ Oscar Esplá, 33-35 in Alicante. (+34) 965 92 97 47.
  • The Centro de Asistencia a Víctimas de Agresiones Sexuales is likely to give more support. While they do not have resources in English on their webpage, they are a reference in Spain for their pioneering work in support for victims and are right in the center of town. C/ Guillem de Castro, 100; (+34) 963 94 30 69; info@cavascv.org.
  • The Asociación para la Protección e Integración de la Mujer provides services for immigrants, particularly for victims of abuse. They are headquartered in Valencia at C/ Baron de Carcer, 48 8L; asociacionprim@hotmail.com.

Further, the Generalitat offers economic help to survivors who meet certain socioeconomic conditions, such as residency and income. This page is in Spanish, as well as the online platform to apply.

There is a US Consulate near the Colom metro stop on Carrer del Dr. Romagosa, 1, 46002; (+34) 963 51 69 73.

País Vasco: Bilbao and San Sebastián

Lastres Asturias village

Like Catalonia, the Basque country has a higher degree of autonomy; their police force is known as Ertzaintza. Again, although the official language of the whole country is Castillian Spanish, you may find that resources or services are in euskera first; the Ministry of Justice does have an informative pamphlet in English about the steps victims should take, as well as contact information for the following resources and services.

  • The Specialized Information Service and Hotline Service For Female Victims of Domestic Violence (S.A.TE.VI.) is available around the clock for confidential information and support at (+34) 945 01 93 27 or (+34)  945 01 93 16; violenciacontramujeres@euskadi.eus. The hearing and speech impaired can get assistance by sending a text message to (+34) 600 12 31 12 with personal details and location, by typing the words “gender violence”.
  • The Servicio de Asistencia a la Víctima (Victim Assistance Service, or SAV),  is service which provided by the Basque Government that offers information and the social, legal and psychological assistance. They have limited hours, so you should call authorities outside of normal business hours, taking into account reduced hours and staffing in the summer months.
Bilbao

Palacio de Justicia

Ibáñez de Bilbao, 3-5

(+34) 900 40 00 28 (free phone)

(+34) 944 01 64 87

San Sebastián

Palacio de Justicia

Plaza Teresa de Calcuta, 1

(+34) 900 10 09 28 (free phone)

(+34) 943 00 07 68

  • The Instituto Vasco de la Mujer is known as Emakunde in the Basque language, and their services also extend to men who have been victims of sexual crimes. The main office is located in the Basque capital of Victoria-Gasteiz (+34 945 01 67 00); emakunde@euskadi.eus. They have a website in English and have listed their protocols in a helpful PDF (in Spanish). I could not find information about satellite offices in the comunidad.
Title IX
If you are on a program abroad through a US university, there will likely be a Title IX point person. Originally meant to prevent discrimination based on sex, race or creed, it also covers sexual harassment and sexual violence, and the Clery Act deals with reporting crime on campuses.
If your study abroad program (I believe this can only be program-related and not a private company, such as CIEE) does not have a point person or does not report, they may be in violation of the Clery Act and you should push them to train staff members.
Discover Excursions
If you have anything to share about being a survivor of a sex crime related to Manuel Vela Blanco or a staff member of Discover Excursions in Sevilla, you are encouraged to write Gabrielle Vega at: desurvivorsspeakup@gmail.com. At the time of the original posting, the company had cancelled their upcoming trips and their offices are closed. Plus, their social media has been wiped. While they may be difficult to convict, we’re making progress:
Discover Excursions
I could not have written this post without the help of Nicole Pradel, Meghan Holloway, Lindsay Vick, Helen Lyons Poloquin, Ali Meehan of Costa Women – and, of course, Gabrielle Vega. They are not only women I admire and call friends, but they took also it upon themselves to gather resources and reach out to their contacts. Niñas, thank you for fighting with me.
where to go if you've been assaulted or raped in Spain
This post is meant to be a starting off point – women in Spain are angry and we’re shouting at the patriarchy and misogyny. If you know any other websites, groups, demonstrations or the like, please comment below or email me, and I will add them to the list.

5 Outdoor Activities to do with Kids and Teens this Summer in Cádiz

Andalusia has the winning combination of weather, history and culture and wallet-friendly prices, making it especially tempting for a family trip to Spain. Kids will faun over castles, stretches of some of Spain’s best beaches and theme parks: older kids and teens will appreciate activities dedicated to their interests and energy levels.

what to do in cadiz with kids

The Cádiz province, considered to be the oldest continuously-inhabited part of Europe, is a favorite for Spanish holiday-makers in the summer. Roughly 30 blue flag beaches, whitewashed mountaintop towns and a robust gastronomic tradition are my top picks for things to do with family in Cádiz:

Kitesurfing, Windsurfing and Adventure camps (Tarifa)

The pico of land at the very south of Spain (and, indeed, of Europe) straddles the Mediterranean and the Atlantic Oceans, making it one of Iberia’s windiest points and one renowned for kitesurfing and windsurfing worldwide – the town of Tarifa boasts about 300 windy days each year! And if that weren’t enough, the beaches of the Cádiz province are amongst Spain’s best stretches of sand and family friendly, too.
tarifa street

For adventurous teens over 14, combination teen summer activity and language camps such as Lenguaventura in Tarifa bring together project-based language learning with sporty activities. Participants can choose windsurf, kitesurf or adventure camps in either English or Spanish, and parents will know that 15 years of Swiss management make the camp safe for their kids. Prices include nearly every amenity; only inscription fees may be added.

A Campo Abierto (Medina Sidonia)

If you haven’t the stomach for bullfighting, you can visit a ganadería, or a livestock farm, where toros bravos are bred. And not just any farm – that of Alvaro Domecq, Jerez de la Frontera‘s prodigal son. Winemaker and former mayor of the Cádiz province’s largest city, Domecq’s name is almost always synonymous with the toro bravo, as it was Domecq that pioneered artificial insemination to ensure quality stock (and bullfighting on horseback, known as the rejoneo).

bullfighter jackets El Jueves Market Sevilla

You can visit the family’s farm, inherited just before the Spanish Civil War from the Duke of Veragua, by guided tour. You’ll learn a bit about bullfighting and the rejoneo in addition to seeing bulls, oxen and stately Andalusian horses. Prices begin at 11€ for children, and you can add on sherry tastings and flamenco performances.

You can book tickets at A Campo Abierto and visit the charming village of Medina Sedonia while you’re at it.

Dolphin and whale watching (Tarifa)

Tarifa boasts more than just windsurfing – the Straight of Gibraltar is home to a variety of dolphin species and even killer whales. With success rates hovering over 95%, most companies will offer 2-3 hour boat trips through the Straight, providing information about the wildlife and ecosystem of Tarifa, as well as facts about marine mammals.

Not got your sea legs? You could consider adopting a dolphin!

Boat ride in the Doñana National Park

Europe’s largest nature preserve and most important wetland, UNESCO-lauded Parque Natural Doñana, straddles the Cádiz, Sevilla and Huelva provinces and is framed by the Atlantic Ocean and Guadalquivir River. Home to the Iberian lynx, wild water horses and countless species of aquatic birds, visitors can visit part of the expansive park as part of a boat ride while on foot (visits to Doñana can only be done via certified tour companies because of park protection measures).

Horseback Riding in Doñana National Park, Spain

Setting out from Sanlúcar de Barrameda (a town known for its sherry production and exquisite tortilla de camarones in case you’re more into the gastronomic offerings), boat tours are about three hours and include a guided visit of the park during two stops. They also serve snacks and refreshments for purchase on the pontoon.

Doñana is under threat of more than just losing its UNESCO nod because of deforestation and human-started forest fires, depopulation of its fauna and ecological threats due to industry. I urge you to use responsible tourism companies whose carbon footprint does not add to the problems the park faces.

Biking the Vías Verdes 

Using old train tracks as their guides, you can actual cycle along the old routes through some of the picturesque pueblos blancos, or white villages. The province of Cádiz boasts four “green ways” between 4 and 46 kilometers long.

archidona malaga pueblo

Snaking 36 kilometers through the countryside and mountains between Olvera and Puerto Serrano, this route (or a portion of it) will take you through natural parks and near rivers, over old bridges and through tunnels that once served the southwest corner of Spain. If you’re looking for something closer to Cádiz city, the Vía Verde Entre Ríos travels along the coast between the towns of Rota, just across the bay, and Sanlúcar la Barrameda.

Pack a bocadillo, rent bike gear, and enjoy an active day out.

Getting to Cádiz is easy via Seville, Málaga and even Jerez de la Frontera, where you can find cheap connections across Europe and even to the USA via Málaga. There are also a number of charming boutique hotels and campgrounds.

Streets of Cádiz old town

Looking for more activities for kids and teens further afield? I’ve written about my top picks for families in Andalucía and great things to do with kids in Madrid. I’ve also written about a number of UNESCO World Heritage sites, many of which can be found in Andalusia.

Do you have any tips for great, interesting things to do with family in Andalucía?

The Guiri Guide to Having a Baby in Spain: Fourth Trimester

It’s just before 4am and my body wakes me up slowly. The baby, in his Pack n’ Play next to my bed, is stirring, too. Like clockwork, he’s still doing comfort feedings once a night, snuggling into my armpit as I lift up my pajama top. The light on my Kindle is soft enough to help guide him to my nipple, his eyes still pinched shut. I feel a familiar tug and a squeaky sucking noise, and flinch as my milk comes in.

One feed down, six more to go today.

cute baby in a hat

Nine months. It’s been nine whole, life-changing, tiring, fast-paced months. He’s been on the outside just as long as he was on the inside, a baby milestone that we mothers hold dear.

My closest friend congratulated me on keeping the baby alive . “Keeping a baby alive?” I replied, “That’s the easy part!” It’s everything else that’s been trying.

The first 100 days

They say that babies need three more months of gestation to be completely ready for the outside world. And us new mothers? We need those three months to ease (um, or not) into the immense responsibility of caring for someone else. I didn’t feel like myself for those three whole months. It took a new pair of jeans, an awkward first sexual encounter and my child being an actual person for me to feel the fog lift after nearly 100 full days with Enrique in our lives.

The first six weeks – “La Cuarentena”

I was thankful and overwhelmed to have my family with me for the first week of Enrique’s life. They kept me hydrated and fed, gathered my lactation pillow when the baby needed food and helped me to learn the new parent ropes. I hadn’t changed a diaper since I was 12 – two decades in the past – and didn’t know how to bathe a baby with his umbilical cord still attached.

My dad, sidelined with a lingering ankle injury, and I challenged one another to walk one block further every morning while my mom stayed with the sleeping baby, knitting a blanket. I learned how to breastfeed in the streets without feeling weird about it. We took him for his first exams and check ups.

He was healthy; I was besides myself.

new mom in Spain

Almost immediately, the gray hairs and the bags under my eyes cropped up. My hormones were all over the place, resulting in crying until I fell asleep on several occasions. The Novio’s job wouldn’t allow him to take his 30 paid days of paternal leave because of an assignment, so I spent long hours at home with the baby, struggling to get him out of the house so that I could clear my head or run out for another bag of coffee or maternity underpants (I was sad to give those up, I have to say). Forced to learn how to do things with one hand with a newborn in the other, I reverted to the most primal instincts: eating, sleeping, brushing my teeth and whatsapping.

There was a day when my tupperware of puchero was heated up and then cooled off and then heated again so many times that I didn’t eat it until nearly 8pm. By then, it was all mush. Another day, I counted ten granola bar wrappers on the coffee table and realized that I wasn’t taking care of myself.

I wouldn’t have been able to survive the first month as a mommy without my mother-in-law, who came to stay with me every night. She’d cook a meal for me, bring me whatever I asked for (including hemorrhoids cream, eep) and even took care of the baby at night so that I could sleep some. We became quite close in those 40 days.

^^^

I returned to Madrid when Enrique was six weeks old, relieved to be in a smaller house where I could leave the baby in his crib while running to the bathroom. He was getting bigger and stronger, and I was eager to explore Madrid and make the most of my 16 weeks with the Little Man.

I had an appointment with my matrona a few days after arriving to Madrid. She had me fill out a survey that was supposed to determine my risk for postpartum depression. The questions were misleading, like, “I feel confident I know what I’m doing.” Sometimes? “I want to spend all of my time with my baby.” It’s nice to have a five minute shower without the baby hanging off of me? She didn’t classify me as at-risk, but I felt overwhelmed just by the questions. Freaking Mommy Culture.

ill love you forever book

I did my best to find other mommy friends and attend the free sessions at my health clinic on baby first aid and baby massage. But I felt judged, like my parenting skills were nowhere near the rest of the mommies who didn’t need to breastfeed their babies until they konked out.

One weekend, while my mother-in-law was in town, we walked to the Corte Inglés for baby gear (que conste: I spent more time at the Nuevos Ministeros Corte Inglés than anywhere else during my maternity leave, and they have a great sala de lactación). I saw someone with a baby about the age of mine who looked well-rested, perfectly coiffed and didn’t have a single spit up stain or booger on her neatly pressed blouse.

“You know her mother is doing everything for her, right?” my mother-in-law whispered as she motioned for me to take over the stroller again. “Te toca.”

^^^

My cousin – the mother of four girls under age five – asked me at a family party, “Aren’t you just loving it?”

My answer was as brave and truthful as I could muster: “Most of the time.”

The first three months

I made the realization that I was not a fan of the baby phase. Much like I hated teaching preschool, once I came through the fog of the first 90 days and could admit that newborns were not my thing, I immediately felt better.

Enrique turned three months on American soil, already having earned his wings on a cross-Atlantic flight. Apart from a higher-than-usual poop frequency and the awkwardness of passing through security with a carry-on, diaper bag, stroller, baby carrier and the baby himself, I was relieved to have someone else to hold the nugget while I was home. I relished in walking the dog and the baby together every morning and helping him learn to roll over and strengthen his neck muscles. I felt comfortable breastfeeding (even if no one else wanted to see it because, America) and was catching up on sleep.

little dude big roar

After buying a new pair of jeans (I dropped the baby weight way too quickly due to nursing) and finally being intimate with my husband, I felt 95% like myself again.

During these few months at home, I did my best to play with the baby, to be attentive to him and to return to a semi-normal life. I could put him in his hammock without tears so as to wash the dishes or take a shower while singing to him. Breastfeeding no longer felt like a chore – the baby hopped on and off the boob without getting distracted. As we got to know one another better, I settled into a routine.

Albeit, a routine that still involved pumping once or twice a day and a lot of bad TV.

The first eight months

As we teeter on the edge of nine months, I’m amazed at how much Enrique has grown and learned. By all accounts, he’s a happy, healthy baby with a penchant for ripping paper, putting everything in his mouth and rolling over 17 times before falling asleep. He’s got six teeth, is nearing 9 kilos and loves to babble. Every day, there’s something new to learn and see, and I’m often left wondering where these nine months have disappeared to.

When he’s asleep or leaves me with a few minutes of peace, I sometimes forget how much life has changed. Or that I had a life before him.

Playa de las Catedrales

One of the things I’m finding the hardest to come to terms with is the lack of time. I’ve always managed my free time well, setting goals and accomplishing them while staying active and still sleeping eight hours a night. Since having a baby, it takes me six weeks to draft a blog post, three hours to shower and get dressed and about one minute to feel frustrated about it. It’s impossible to micromanage with a baby.

Case in point: I began writing this blog post before the baby was three months old. I have written and rewritten it in my head countless times while busing a baby to daycare, while rocking him to sleep, while trying to rock myself to sleep after a late night feeding.

Yes, I’ve gotten distracted with freelance projects, with trips to Sevilla, with returning to work. Those babies who sleep for hours on end? Mine is not one of them. In fact, the pediatrician told me to put him in a forward-facing stroller when he was six weeks old. So much for binge-watching all of Game of Thrones so I’d have SOMETHING to talk about with friends.

So, toma, you get short vignettes (that’s all I can manage before he wakes up and wants to eat/play/burp!):

On Breastfeeding

On one of the baby’s first outings, my mom, the Novio and I went to have breakfast before taking him for the heel prick test. The baby was four days old, and the January sun was already bright. We’d succeeded in getting four people out of the house on time, but panic struck as soon as we sat at Pedro’s bar.

hungry baby

DIOS, the baby is YELLOW!” I cried, then cried tears. “I’m not feeding him, I suck at parenting!”

Granted, I’d slept about four hours and was mentally exhausted to boot, but seeing a jaundiced baby was not the way to celebrate cutting our getting-out-the-door time from three hours to two.

I’d struggled to breastfeed in the hospital, resorting to pumping to stimulate my production and having an awkward moment with my father-in-law where he massaged my breasts. My poor puritan father couldn’t be in the same room with me when I fed his first grandchild. And, now, my child was yellow as a banana.

^^^

Menos mal that women are speaking up about how difficult breastfeeding can be. Between stressing about the baby gaining weight and latching correctly, then being literally en tetas all day, I felt like a cow. It was an endless cycle of, Eat-Burp-Sleep and repeat every 90 minutes. Any time I’d finally get him down and out of my arms, it would be the question of what to do first: pee or eat.

Screenshot_2017-03-08-07-27-42 (1)

I was hellbent on breastfeeding exclusively for six months, which often lead to head-butting with the Novio when he wanted to start the baby on solids or he suggested I give the baby formula. When Enrique was around 12 weeks old I finally cracked and bought a bottle of formula as back up, even though my instincts told me he didn’t need it. Again, damn Mommy Culture for telling me that breastfeeding is the ONLY way to go, and that even considering formula was a mortal mommy sin.

I attended a few Liga La Leche meetings, which I highly recommend. If for nothing else, for moral support and for a few hours out.

^^^

I love being able to breastfeed my baby, but I HATE pumping. I hear the flat sucking sound of my expensive pump that is too small for my boob size and shudder. I struggle to not spill the pumped milk when transferring it from bottle to storage bag and have on more than one occasion cried over spilt milk.

^^^

When we took Enrique for his four month check up, I was told that he was slightly underweight and would have to start on cereal in his bottles. I was devastated. Once again, my confidence took a hit as I cursed my body for not responding to what I conceived as natural. Everyone reminded me that a fed is best, but all of the god damned Mommy Wisdom pointed to my failure to feed him myself.

Two months later, we started him on solids, leading to less diapers to change but more constipation.

^^^

Enrique breastfed until last week, mere days before his ninth cumplemes. We stuck with it, despite my being topless for a large part of the day when all of the lactation experts suggested I feed on demand. I have only had blocked ducts when I returned to work and no bleeding or cracked nipples – just a few nibbles from his new teeth. I feel fortunate that it’s gone well and that we’ve found a rhythm, especially when I know many women who were unable to breastfeed.

baby tummy time

The destete always had an end date, as I travel for work in he Fall. In many ways, I’m relieved that he’s a good eater and will take bottle, spoon, hunk or anything waved in front of his face. I’ll miss the way he caresses my face and boob when he stares up at me, and feel that all of those hours with him in my arms have helped forge a bond. He still gets pangs of mamitis whenever I arrive home from work, often stopping what he’s doing and whining until I pick him up.

But I’m ready to move on and watch him learn to eat on his own. Maybe that’s just part of motherhood, the constantly letting go.

On Returning to Work Post-Maternity Leave

Before I could really enjoy maternity leave and bonding with the baby, I had homework: I needed to find a childcare option. Unlike all those well-kept Spanish mamás who can rely on their mothers, we had no choice but to pay for someone else to watch our baby sleep and occasionally give him a bottle or change a diaper.

Truthfully, finding a guardería felt a lot like rushing a sorority to me.

We were given a permanent spot in my first choice guardería, just one block away from my job, for July. But that left May, June and a handful of days in April to cover. Desperate, I dressed us up nicely and went from daycare to daycare, trying to impress people I’d speak to for three minutes, acutely aware that there was a baby quota, and that quota was low.

Just like legacies have a pass into Alpha Beta Baby, so, too, do brothers and sisters. I finally wizened up and checked prices and availability so that I could dedicate more time to eating my way around my neighborhood bakeries rather than pushing a baby carriage for anything other than leisure.

Baby's first glimpse of the ocean

Looking for daycare in Spain was a test of my patience. My favorites? “We make only organic food!” Yes, and charge me three times as much what I could make at home myself. “We’re bilingual!” So is my household. “We have the cheque bebé!” What difference does it make when you’re charging me those 90€ more in organic food and estimulación de inglés?

Ugh.

When I finally found a place that had an opening (they may have broken a few laws to make an extra 400€), I truthfully wasn’t impressed. There was no plan escolar and the place smelled like baby (did I mention I hate the smell of diaper cream and Nenuco?). But I promised myself that my time at home would be the baby’s main source of stimulation and cariño and signed him up.

^^^

My vuelta al trabajo date got closer with every sleep, with every bag of breastmilk stashed in the freezer. While my other pregnant friends had worked out a few extra months at home, I looked forward to going back to work. I like the professional part of my life, and the truth is that I couldn’t watch any more reruns of The Big Bang Theory.

You know it’s bad when you can sing all of the commercial jingles.

On the day that I left Enrique at the daycare for the first time, there were a few tears. These tears were easily quelled with a coffee and piece of cake, and a very understanding boss. If it comes to anything, it was my years as a teacher and knowing that the employees were trained to at least not leave an infant unattended on a high surface. I only called the guarde midday for a week for a progress report (and to make sure he’d pooed).

But, I have the friendliest baby who breaks into a smile whenever he sees someone new. You have no idea how much it hurts when you go to pick up your spawn and he cries as soon as they hand him off to you.

^^^

My days now are long. Alarmingly long. A friend vacationing in California once asked why I was awake at 6:30am on a Thursday. Easy – it takes me exactly 80 minutes to wake up and get us out the door. When I return home, there’s baby food to prepare, said baby to play with, chores to keep up with once he is asleep.

But as someone who likes crossing things off my list, I make it work. And it makes nights and weekends even more fun. Though Mondays are even more monday with an adorable little family, I admit.

On First-time Parenting

I used to boast about how well my baby could hang – he’d fall asleep in the jaleo of a cervecería as if he were being rocked in someone’s arms. Then one fine day, we discovered that Enrique was colicky. Now, there are two types of colic in Spanish: one in which the baby cries uncontrollably for no apparent reason, and the other where a baby can’t easily digest breastmilk and cries and screams for several hours in the evening. This eventually tapers off at three months, but it seriously tested our patience.

Qué le pasa?” The Novio would ask me, and I’d run down the list. Is he hot or cold? No. Is there a tag scratching against his skin? Unlikely. Is he tired? Perhaps. If all else failed, out came the food source.

Baby in my arms

Then there was the time we forgot sunscreen in the car and had to coat his face in diaper cream. Or when we’d leave the house only to return because of an explosive poop episode the minute we’d order a beer. And one of my favorites was when he wouldn’t calm down to sleep, so I walked him in the rain to a bar where I could dip in for a hot drink. As soon as he heard the Semana Santa music, he closed his eyes and stay asleep for well over an hour.

We’re still so new to this and don’t ever think we’ll stop learning how to handle an infant, a toddler or a teenager. Most days, we can laugh at ourselves (though this usually involved having had a decent night’s sleep), and I think we’re holding it together all right.

Well, until I cry from accumulated sueño and because I really, really want a cookie.

On Mommy Culture

One of my longest sevillana friends came to visit a few weeks ago, and we spent a warm afternoon over dobles in Plaza Olavide with the babe. I asked her to regale me with stories of dating in the Big Apple, what it was like to have an American salary and about her last vacation; she asked me how I was holding it all together.

Nothing like hanging with your abroad besties to realize just how different your life has become.

Perhaps one of the hardest things to come to grip with has been the cross-cultural mixed signals and the extreme judgement. Maybe it’s all in my head, but it can be difficult to navigate what I know to be true about child-bearing from my own American upbringing, and what Spanish abuelitas say. Our pediatrician is Venezuelan and suggested that the baby’s first lean meat come from a horse; she was later under fire when she told us to give the baby kiwi, sparking a rash and a trip to the ER.

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When I check my phone while out on a walk, I feel like I’m betraying my baby. Or when I drop him off at daycare. And when I ask my husband to feed him to I can wash vomit out of my hair, I wonder if I’m being selfish. Can other mothers sense this? Do we have a sixth sense when it comes to who is doing their job and who isn’t? Hell, I even felt bad watching Gilmore Girls while feeding the baby on my maternity leave. Aren’t I supposed to give my undivided attention to him at all times, and not to Lorelai and Rory?

My mother stayed home with my sister and me, returning to her job as a teacher when I was in second grade. I am thankful that she made that choice, but I know I wouldn’t be happy wearing just one hat.

Perhaps it’s the influence of social media that’s got me all huffed and puffed. That we judge one another with all of the postureo and the need for attention and the need to share all. The day care’s director assures us that we are both doting parents who give off an air of peace and tranquility towards the baby. If he only knew how exhausting he can be…

On Motherhood and What Comes Next

As I settle into motherhood and continue to be amazed – by how much the baby learns, by the seismic way in which he has changed our lives and our relationship with one another, by the sheer exhaustion that consumes my week. Truthfully, it took me time to get a grip on how much I adore the little beast I created and nurtured while I have slowly let go of my past life.

For a long time, I wondered if I wasn’t meant to be a mother, despite my deep desire to have children since I was a child myself. All of those women who gushed about how complete they felt, how their child was the best thing that ever happened to them – I didn’t feel it. Motherhood and the abundance of feelings and love slowly permeated into every aspect of my life as Enrique gets bigger and comes into his personality.

And I’m not afraid to admit that I miss my old life, pre-baby. Or that I miss being pregnant. Or that I want at least one more.

Being a parent is one of the most emotional things I have ever experienced (and this coming from someone who wears her heart on her sleeve). I feel abundance and I feel complete scarcity. I’m both hopped up and run down. My baby can be a burden one minute and my source of joy in another. My hormones have subsided – for the moment, anyhow – but  can’t even begin to fathom how they may change as we watch this tiny human learn to walk, talk and probably become a huge asshole.

I wish I had advice for other first time mothers, especially us guiris who live in Spain. You’re subject to extreme morriña for your family and home country, as well as the exhiliration of raising a baby abroad. You’ll warp your language and find your native tongue comes out when cooing at your little creation. You’ll scoff at the unsolicited advice from abuelitas but feel relieved when they tell you how to combat diaper rash. As with anything unknown, you won’t know what you feel until that phase of your life has, regrettably, passed.

For now, I’m trying to be myself as I change and adapt to being Enrique’s mommy.

^^^

At my six month check-up with my gyno in Madrid, He of the Amazing Mutton Chops, I asked a very simple question as soon as the wand went back in: “There’s no one else in there, verdad?”

No, hija, your womb is all clear.

Well, for another year or two until we decide it’s time for Enrique to be a big brother.

The Guire Guide to Pregnancy and Childbirth

I’d love to hear your feedback – and thank you all, sincerely, for the well wishes and the outpouring of love for the Babyman. To those of you who have visited, sent gifts, trekked out to my parents’s house in the suburbs – thank you. It helps knowing that, despite all of the changes, I have great people to rely on and an Army of Titos!

You can read about my experience as a pregnant foreigner in Spain and about labor and delivery in earlier posts. In Barcelona and considering a hypobirth or doula services? Liana van Zyl offers English-language services in Barcelona. I have personally not used her but would encourage you to contact her about pre- and post-natal care!

The Guiri Guide to Pregnancy in Spain

the-guiri-guide-tothe-guiri-guide-to

Photo Post: A Perfect Day in Tapia de Casariego, Asturias

When we returned to Western Asturias, where we took our babymoon, we had two things clear: we’d stay at Agustina and Angel’s guest house, la Casona del Faedo, and we’d let the baby mark our rhythms. Enrique would turn six months old during our sojourn, and as such, was on the verge of starting solids. He’d already earned his wings and had become a proven road warrior, so we were confident that he could handle a few nights of sleeping in a new place.

Tapia de Casariego Asturias

If it were up to Enrique, he’d wake up at 8am sharp. Wake up slowly, blinking in the morning sun that streams in, accompanied a damp breeze. A horse bellows in the distance as he balls his hands into fists and stretches them down towards his feet.

While the Novio refueled with a coffee and prepared a day bag, I fed the baby with one of Agustina’s cakes in hand, my back pressed up against a 19th Century headboard. The morning had dawned chilly but bright, the promise of a perfect day. Agustina wrapped up a few spongy squares of cake and pressed plums into our hands for the road.

Tapia de Casariego was within reach when I did the Camino de Santiago in 2013. Everyone raved about its picturesque port and laid-back surf town vibe. Just like that July day four years prior, the weather would have been perfect for a diversion back up to the coast instead of dipping down to A Caridad; four Julys later, I had convinced the Novio to spend a morning before taking the baby to Playa de las Catedrales during low tide that evening.

Camino de Santiago signage in Tapia de Casariego

The familiar yellow shell met us as soon as we’d parked the car and steered ourselves into the main square. A sea breeze lifted off the peninsula and swept through the sleepy center of a town that thrives on fishing, agriculture and tourism. There was little more than the requisite church, one which channeled Tenerife’s temples, and a few shops, still shuttered in the early morning.

We wound around the steep streets of the fisherman’s barrio, a mismatch of humble homes that fans out over an isthmus, stopping to have a beer right at noon next to the small port.

view of Tapia de Casariego

The port of Tapia de Casariego

Yep, it’s as picturesque as they say.

Rather than the packed ports at Luarca and Cudillero, Tapia’s humble puerto boasted less boats and of those there, not one screamed luxury or even a fresh coat of paint.

I have come to realize that I need a body of water to feel calm and full. Being from the landlocked Midwest, even a river will do. But a bustling little port with cheap beers and sunshine? Sold. One hundred times sold.

Tapia de Casariego

beer on a sunny day

Most of Asturias’s festivals fall in July around the Virgen del Carmen feast day on July 13th, and Tapia treated us to a small parade, complete with a doll-sized Virgen Mary that would eventually be floated out to sea. The drums and bagpipes called Enrique’s attention, and he squirmed in my arms, grinning.

Banda de Gaitas Tapia de Casariego

Regional dress in Asturias

Traveling with a baby is…different.

Gone are the lie ins and leisurely lunches; the lack of planning, non-existent.

But the beauty lies in the little moments, in his discovery of a new place, a new flavor, a new feeling. We took Enrique down to the Entreplayas beach, littered with treasures of the low tide. Stripping off his cloth shoes, he gingerly set his toes in the damp sand, squealing with toothless delight.

I slipped off my sandals, resting them on a rock beside the baby’s, and rolled up my jeans. As the cold water rushed in, he curled his toes and shuddered before breaking out into his laugh.
the beach at Tapia de Casariego

Baby's first glimpse of the ocean

Following the Novio’s cousin’s spot-on recommendations for food, we made a reservation at La Terraza, a long-standing cider house in the heart of the village. Being just a few kilometers from the River Eo, which separates Asturias and Galicia, we had the pleasure of a menu that included both – and we went full-on Galicia with raxo, pulpo a la feira and a salad drizzled with escabeche.

Asturian food menu

where to eat seafood in Tapia Asturias
Delicious food at La Terraza Tapia de Casariego

And, as always, no faltó la cidrina, the Asturias habit we can’t seem to break. Enrique snoozed in his stroller, obviously to our cider-fueled laughter and clinking glasses.

Even though the day was only halfway over, it was the broche de oro on baby’s first trip.

Have you ever been to Western Asturias? We’re planning on making it our thing and would love tips! Be sure to check out La Casona del Faedo near Cudillero and my tips for an Asturias roadtrip!

The Guiri Guide to Having a Baby in Spain: Labor and Delivery

From the looks of it, I haven’t had a baby. My belly has long since deflated and I’m walking upright again. My face isn’t swollen, the byproduct of cookies and a growing baby in my belly. I am a mother, though if I’m not totting around a diaper bag or pushing a stole like a bat out of hell, you’d hardly know I have an eight-month-old baby.

But I am changed in so many ways, from the muscle tone to the thinned out hair. Entering the +child phase of my life has been nothing short of eye-opening. Earth shattering (in the best sense). Like I’ve never been any different from the way I am now.

And it all began with his llegada a este mundo

Enrique: a (brief) birth story

“Ohú hija, qué placenta más vieja.”

I closed my legs as Eduarda snapped off her latex gloves and motioned for me to pull my leggings back up. The Novio stood, arms folder across his broad chest, stoic in the examination room. The monitors showed that Baby Man was healthy and I was having painless, mini contractions, but the grave look in Eduarda’s eyes told me that the optimism that the matrona had was not what she’d seen.

It was January 3rd, 2017 – my due date.

Her pink pen scribbled something in my patient chart, then moved furiously to a prescription pad. She avoided my glance and again looked at the Novio. “Tomorrow, this baby is coming out. Report at 8:30am: you’ll be induced at 9, sharp.”

The Novio took the prescription and gathered up my materials, painstakingly organized in a green plastic folder. I sat, dumbfounded, sweating and like someone had taken a big stick right to my placenta. Induced? After the healthiest, loveliest pregnancy?

cat-gaa-in-triana

That afternoon, I sent my family out of my house so that I could rest and come to terms with being provocada. The baby hadn’t gained any weight in the previous week and my placenta was beginning to calcify (they don’t tell you about that in prenatal classes). I tried everything that afternoon to enter into labor – half a bottle of Tabasco, long walks, a warm bath, two tetrabricks of pineapple juice.

At 10pm, I restructured my birth plan, reminding myself that my meditation for a perfect birth was always overshadowed by the advice of a medical professional. My half-packed hospital bag wouldn’t get left behind in the rush to the hospital, nor would I break waters doing some mundane task, like grocery shopping or having a Cola Cao with my girlfriends. Enrique would be born with medical intervention and on a day that a doctor planned, not him.

The following morning, the Novio made me a big breakfast and cracked open another brick of pineapple juice. I ate in silence, forcing myself to chew when my nerves seemed to be pushing the food back out. When you’re induced, you can’t eat in the event that you need an emergency C-Section. But it’s not like I had the appetite anyway.

The 350m walk to the hospital felt like a death march. Once checked into my room, María, the matrona on duty, came in to take me to the monitors. Like the day before, the fetal heartbeat was strong and I was having small contractions, but they’d need to give me medicine to ripen my cervix. An hour later, I was back in my room, bouncing on a medicine ball while reading “Homage to Catalonia” and sipping pineapple juice boxes (seriously – I haven’t drank any zumo de piña since). The contractions were closer together and getting stronger, but after two hours, Eduarda broke my waters.

Giving birth in Spain and the hospital rooms

While my contractions continued to progress, I convinced myself that I was strong enough to not have an epidural. Didn’t they say you wouldn’t be able to talk, just concentrate on riding the wave of pain? The Novio sat, glued to the chair, eyes wide in terror every time I’d squat in front of the bed, white-knuckling the plastic footboard and sucking in air. “Te ayudo?” was all he could muster as I gave him a deranged smile and assured him I could do it.

Later that afternoon, when Orson Welles was on the front lines and my heartburn tasted like pineapple, Eduarda gave me a reverse compliment: You look good. Demasiada buena, too good. I stood up and gathered my slippers, a bottle of water and my courage: I’d need an epidural because I was getting pitocín, the drug equivalent of oxytocin. So much for a non-medicated birth.

To spare you all the details, here’s the cliff notes version: monitors, epidural, nausea and extreme cold (resulting in three blankets), drop in fetal heart rate, more epidural, nine pushes, a terrified father, Krissler maneuver, vacuum, stitches. The Novio nearly missed the birth when he went to make a few phone calls to our families and likely chain smoke – I, to this day think he had it worse than me that day (but I definitely had it worse the two weeks following). Enrique was born vaginally at 9:05 pm after 12 hours in labor.

As the stupor began to dissipate, I asked the questions: What color are his eyes? They’re shut. Does he have all his fingers and toes? All here. “It is a boy, right?” Yes, twigs and berries identified.

And my favorite: “Did I say anything mean to you to deal with the pain?” No.

When Enrique V was placed on my bare chest a half hour after delivery, I honestly didn’t feel anything but relief that delivery was over and that he was out and passed his Apgar exam. I didn’t feel a rush of feel-good hormones and instant bonding as I stressed over whether or not the baby was actually mine and still stupefied that I was now a mother and a whole new stage of my life had only just begun.

bocadillo de jamon

After 30 minutes of monitoring us both, I was wheeled into my room to recover and finally have two uninterrupted hours of skin-to-skin time. Lying facing the ceiling and the dizzying, harsh lights, I was almost relieved when the pediatrician came in to take the baby for tests and immunizations because I was ravenous and exhausted. The bocadillo de jamón that the Novio brought me was a gift from the Gods.

The Eighth Month

I spent the last four weeks of my first pregnancy in Seville.

More frequent were the doctor visits: there was a general check up and blood test at 37 weeks, a stress test the following and a further check up at week 39. Eduarda examined my cervix at each. I was hopeful that I’d already begun dilating but she clucked at me and told me that long walks and gravity would help the baby coax himself out. Still feeling resilient and not terribly uncomfortable, I wanted to relish in my last few moments of a life that would always be “my past life.”

So, I got my haircut, made use of my bathtub and painstakingly folded the tiny onesies and knit sweaters.

little-boy-baby-clothes-on-a-clothesline

Because we’re in a rental in Madrid, I couldn’t truly nest until we arrived. Every afternoon, I’d take stock of everything I was missing for the baby and order it from Amazon before passing out cold on the couch. I put together my breast pump and cleaned the pram where the baby would sleep. I tried to imagine his face, how his skin would feel against mine, what I’d do when he slept 18 hours a day. This would, inevitably, end in tears as I thought of the beautiful pregnancy and the way the Novio and I had bonded over taking the next step in our relationship by becoming parents.

For the most part, I felt prepared for the birth. I had watched videos while strengthening my pelvic floor. I gently told my mother that, if push came to shove, I’d prefer to have my mother-in-law with me in the delivery room because of the language barrier. I looked up articles about hypnobirting and doula services. It was everything that came after the birth that made me the most nervous.

The night before my induction, I couldn’t sleep. I scribbled notes on the birth plan in a flurry of arrows and asterisks, took another bath and tried to fight my restlessness. It seemed insane to think that, in all likelihood, I would meet my baby face-to-face (or rather, mouth to boob), within 24 hours. I willed him to burst into the world on his own so that I could labor at home and still be able to snack, but 7am on Wednesday, January 4th came without as much as a hard kick from the baby to tell me he was ready.

^^^^

Our time in the hospital after Enrique’s birth was a literal blur – I was afraid to walk too far on my own, the baby kept us on a sleep schedule of about 15 minutes every few hours, and I struggled to breastfeed between visits and pills and rest. My body felt like it wasn’t my own anymore, as I couldn’t control my legs or sit up without help from a nurse. Everything was a series of firsts – from first shower to first visitors to first realizations that I’d never be the same again, not mentally or physically.

in the hospital in Spain with a newborn

At first, I had asked for total privacy. This meant no phone calls or visits. In Spain, everyone you know, from family to coworkers, come by to see the newborn. Unsure of how I would feel, I was not interested anyone see me all puffy and broken, and I remember the look of terror and extreme exhaustion on a friend’s face when we went to visit her and her second child. Had I been at a public hospital, I would have shared a room and likely been privy to people visiting at all hours, as hospitals in Spain rarely keep strict visiting hours.

The hospital was fantastic at checking in on me and making sure I’d peed, and the matronas and nurses kept my suegro – who tried to milk me – at arm’s length. I felt that more care and attention was given to me over the baby, truthfully, though they showed me how to swaddle, bathe and feed him.

^^^^

Two days later, on Día de los Reyes, we were given the alta to go home. I had checked out in the morning after a bowel movement and a uterine massage (that was more painful than birth without much more than an aspirin in my system); the little guy was seen a few hours later by the attending pediatrician, but not the requisite 48 hours that a hospital keeps. Because it was a holiday, I would have had to wait until the following morning around 9am to be given the OK to take our little bundle of tears home if I had chosen a public hospital.

The Novio had been at home cleaning and resting while my family kept me company, but when I called him, he couldn’t come immediately: the Cabalgata was passing through. Sevilla. We returned home to a house full of people and a large roscón de reyes. I ate as if I hadn’t consumed anything since that bocadillo de jamón, gulping down water between bites. My suegro got the small toy, a plastic Tigger, and immediately gifted it to his first grandchild.

The Novio let his family and mine take care of me and Baby Enrique post-delivery while he took care of the paperwork to register the baby’s birth, update our libro de familia and get an appointment for his DNI and Spanish passport. While I fluttered between confidence and desperation as I was convinced that the baby had caught a cold or wasn’t eating, he bused himself between government buildings. Not even a newborn can escape the wrath of Spanish red tape.

^^^

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In retrospect, the first few weeks were the calm before the storm. I had plenty of help and hands to hold the baby so I could shower, stay fed and get some sleep every once in a while. The overwhelming feels, emotional highs and the breakdowns would come later, once the baby became colcicky and the Novio had to go back to work.

At my lowest, I consisted on granola bars.

But I made it. I look at my baby sleeping in my arms and sometimes struggle to remember that we’d ever been without him. They told us in prenatal class that we’d forget all about the pain of childbirth as soon as we saw and held out babies. It’s true that after I healed and began to get a handle on everything motherhood, I forgot that it was hard to walk for a month and that breastfeeding hurt.

In those rare moments when I don’t have a baby stroller or a diaper bag on me, I wonder if other people can tell I’m a mother, or if those other frazzled mommies think that they envy me because I’m not totting kids around. My body has morphed back into its old self and my baby bump is long gone.

I certainly feel different inwardly though not so much outwardly, but find myself pace quickening as I leave work and head home for my boys.

6

I’ve spilled all of the details about my transition into motherhood in a forthcoming post – from breatsfeeding to Mommy culture to something I’m not afraid to confess, even though it’s not the popular opinion. I have plenty more posts about Spain coming up, too! That is, once I put the baby down and don’t have him crawling all over me.

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