from the Chi to the SVQ

November 12, 2011 by · 3 Comments

My life is dominated by Spanish culture: I have a Spanish partner and speak to him exclusively in Spanish, work in a Spanish school with Spanish children, and don’t know a soul in my surroundings who speaks my language and understands my customs. People joke that I’m heavily influenced by the sevillana way of life, and I once survived 20 months without stepping foot in America (or eating a Portillo’s hotdog).

Last night, I grabbed my bike and headed to the center last night to meet two of my fellow Chicago folk, Kelly and Siebs, for Mexican food. As I parked in Plaza San Francisco, listening to Coldplay’s “Beautiful World” and marveled at the light from the Giralda flooding the cobblestone. I snapped a picture on my phone, and upon putting it back in my bag, whirled around to see someone in a Packers jersey. I had to laugh to myself.

Kelly had just been shoe shopping, so we walked down Calle Sierpes towards the square where we’d meet Mickey. Plaza Salvador was half empty on the warm Autumn night, and as we chatted about her upcoming trip to Paris, I stopped dead in my tracks. A bespectacled study abroad student with an accent matching my mother’s was talking about the Cubs and Sox.

I may be far from Cheesehead territory and the Northside, but it takes very little to get me back to that same old place, Sweet Home Chicago.

What do you get homesick for while abroad? How do you deal with homesickness? Do you stick to expat enclaves in your city abroad?

Filed Under: America, coming home, expat, family, la vida loca, moving abroad, Seville, Sweet Home Chicago · Tagged: , , , ,

The One Where the Novio Carved a Pumpkin

October 30, 2011 by · 6 Comments

When I made my little trip to Spain four years ago, I was determined to do what any expat does – immerse myself in the culture. Eat, breath and sleep flamenco, siestas and tapas.

Then I realized I am just too American for that. Who says you can’t live in Spain and have your hot dog-flavored cake, and eat it, too?

I don’t necessarily have to redeem myself when it comes to exhibiting my Americanism with pride with the Novio, as he is ten times more Spanish than I am guiri. He eats, breathes, sleeps cerveza, Betis and juerga. But one really beautiful part of a bilingual, bicultural relationship is being able to share another culture with someone. Had I not met Kike, there’s a lot that would remain a mystery to me, and a lot of places I would never know.

So, in my opinion, it’s only natural I’d try to do the same. since Halloween is my second favorite holiday, second only to Fourth of July (for the beer and fireworks, not the patriotism!), and this is the first time he’s actually been in Seville for Halloween since we met, it was high time I taught him about All Hallow’s Eve.

Turns out, he’s too Spanish for his own good.

My friend Kelly hosts a pumpkin carving party yearly, but I missed out this year to go to Madrid. Last Tuesday, I finished work and, feeling in the spirit of Halloween on the first cold and blustery day of the Fall, went to Lidl to buy spider webs for my classroom and a pumpkin for the Novio and I. Lidl is the German equivalent of Aldi – mega cheap, charges you for bags like most places in Spain, has carts of random crap in the aisles. But Aldi has a rotating international week, meaning I can get cranberry juice and marshmallows during American week, Croque Monsseiur during semaine francaise, and beer brats and Haribo gummis any given. In the weeks leading up to Halloween, witches hats and packaged candy fangs adorn the aisle displays next to the register. I snagged the last two pumpkins, paid for two bags and took them home.

Since the pumpkins came with stickered-on faces, The Novio perched them on the mantle above the TV, laughing in a spooky voice. “Sunday,” I announced, “¡Al ataque!”

The weekend drew to a close and I dropped Hayley off at the taxi stand and went to make chicken stock and wait for Kike to come home from having lunch with friends. Three hours later, he arrives home. I told him I wanted to do Halloween stuff, like carve our pumpkins. He walked into the kitchen, took out a knife, and I had to lunge forward and yell NOOOOOOOOOOO, because he assumed I wanted him to cut it up so we could make a crema, a type of thick soup, out of it. He asked the purpose of carving it before All Hallow’s Eve, as today is merely the 30th.

I told him I was giving up, not really willing to fight about a tradition he knows very little about. Venga, he coaxed, we’re already doing Halloween things! He made a scary face and tried to pop out at me from behind the open fridge door. I took out the carving knife and commenced slicing off the head of his pumpkin, scooping out the goopy innards and placing them in a glass bowl.

As I tried to peel off the sticker, the Novio protested, saying he didn’t know how to make a scary face. I gave up. He did, too.

Replacing the top, he snickered and put the jack o’lantern back on the mantle. Within ten minutes, the time it took for me to carve my pumpkin and place the seeds pn a baking sheet, he was out cold.

There’s always Thanksgiving, Novio. Who doesn’t like a holiday based around food and sports?

Filed Under: Bilingual Love, Bilingualism, culture shock, expat life, Guri Atope, holidays, love, OOPS · Tagged: , ,

Show me some CARA.

October 12, 2011 by · 8 Comments

It’s time for another edition of “Those crazy Spaniards and their crazy language!” We’ve already learned the many usages of cojones (and that Spaniards hold them, the actual things, in high favor), so why not continue the anatomy lesson and its uses in modern castellano with the face.

O sea, what are the uses of the word cara, other than it’s the adjective for expensive if the noun it describes is feminine, like casa or falda.

The word cara, like cojones in my house a few weeks ago, is all over the place. In this day and age, Spaniards are using the global economic meltdown as their scapegoat for everything, and calling all of the politicians a group of caraduras. “Crap, we’re out of milk. That stupid crisis! ME CAGO EN LA LECHE Y EN LA MADRE QUE LE PARIO A [Presidente] ZAPATERO.” Or, “My son is bad at school because of the crisis.” No he’s not, that’s a lie, and what you have is mucha cara, señora. So there.

Let’s have a look at how Spaniards inject more of their hilarious phrases with the word for face, shall we?

Por la cara

I always laugh at poorly done Spanish to English translations, such as this one:

But one I do love is to say, “by the face,” which means to do something and unexpectedly do it free. Take note: I went to Fulanito’s bar and got drunk por la cara. In other words, My bro hooked me up with as many whiskeys as I could drink, and I didn’t pay for a single one of them. Nowadays, it’s common to see the phrase in English used in advertisements geared towards young people.

Tener cara, Ser un/a caradura

Let’s say this one with a British accent: this means, for lack of better words, to be cheeky. Someone who can get away with having a little sass or, likewise, no shame. I have plenty of students who fit the bill, so it’s not uncommon for people to say that kids have caradura, or someone who makes excessive demands, too.

A similar expression, also using face!, would be to tener más cara que espalda – to have more cheek than back, literally. Or, tener morro works just fine, too.

Best just to say it as it is: to be a total desvergüenza like this guy.

Tener cara de sueño / malo / trasnochar…etc.

The most comment way I am greeted every morning is, “Seño, tienes cara de sueño!” which means I’m carrying a tired, mopey face. Tener cara de is merely a way for someone to comment on your current state of being (tired, party puss), or even something that is normally true (liar, good person). Like many uses of cojones, the adjective can be substituted for just about anything.

At the moment, I have a cara de tó – of sleepiness, of disgust (I made a bunch of small boats out of flan molds today, blah), de buena porque la soy, de todo!

Costar un ojo de la cara

Let’s play a game! What’s the phrase we use in Engrish that employs anatomical parts and means that something is worth a lot of money and you paid all that money for it? Why, yes, I was thinking of “it cost me an arm and a leg!” Spain’s version is translated as, costing an eye of the face, and it’s more fun because of it.

Going home at Christmas this year? Yep, I may as well be rocking an eyepatch these days. But as they say, a mal tiempo, buena cara.

Got any more to add? There are plenty more I haven’t included! Do me the favor of writing them in the comments – I’ve got more DELE and idioms studying to get done!

Filed Under: andalú, Idioms, languages, Spanish Language, What's that you say? · Tagged: , , ,

How to Survive The Foreigner’s Office

July 5, 2011 by · 14 Comments

Author’s Note: This post seemed fitting today, considering my first experience with the dreaded papeleo started on July 3rd, 2007, when I applied for my student visa to come to Spain. Likewise, I just picked up my five-year residence card on Friday.

On my first trip to Sevilla, six years ago nearly to the day, I was breathless at the site of the half-moon, colonnaded Plaza de España, nestled just out of the historic center and at the helm of the plush María Luisa Park. The Triana tiles gleamed in the early July sunlight as I sat writing on a bench in the mural depicting Valladolid, a city I had just moved away from. I brought my travel partner, Catherine, the very next day. While not as bowled over as I, she did know that it was the fictional Planet Naboo of Star Wars fame.

Two years in the future, I was applying for a visa at the Chicago consulate. The deal was that Spain put a shiny visa on an entire page of my passport in exchange for 90 days in the land of toros and tapas. From there, I would need to go to local police and present a mountain of paperwork claiming I had a salary and health insurance. Seemed easy to present a few pieces of paper and stand in line.

Think again – what ensued has been a very ugly battle between me and the central immigration offices of Andalucía, a little bit of trickery (ok, flat-out lying) and finally securing a five-year residency card after thirteen months of appointments, photocopies and a lawyer.

Estés dónde estés, here’s a few tips to make your trip to Extranjeros a little more smooth:

Brush up on your vocabulary
The people who work in the oficina de extranjeros are called funcionarios. Spain, like Italy, has a high number of civil servants, and those Spaniards wishing to have job security and work short hours take an exam called an oposición to be able to be one. If selected, they are entitled to have breakfast at the precise hour you arrive to the front of the line. You’ll need to turn in all your papeleo, paperwork, to these people, so follow the advice below, too.

At the office, you’ll need to queue up and get a ticket. When your letter and number is called, you turn in your documents and receive a snobby-ass look and the word that you’ll come back for your fingerprints – your huellas, in addition to paying a tax and presenting two or three recent photos. Note that in Spain, these foto carne are much smaller than their American counterparts. After that appointment, you’ll have to wait 45 days to pick up your plastic card, and chat up a security guard to let you cut. I learned that two prorrogas in.

Know what you need to bring, and bring photocopies
Tres fotos carné? Form EX-##? Best to do your research, as every official act performed in the office has a different set of requisites. For pareja de hecho, for example, I had to present a certificate stating I wasn’t already married, signed and stamped by an official US Notary. Not necessary for an extension on your student visa. Speak to your consulate or embassy, download the forms to turn in here, ask about tasas, or fees, and bring a few small pictures. That said, made at least two photocopies of each document and have anything notarized if it’s a copy to turn in. Believe me, this will save you headaches, as this woman can tell you. Got a stapler? Toss that in your bag, just in case.

Dress appropriately, and bring a Spaniard along if you can
Showing up and looking nice can really make a difference, especially here in Sevilla, where appearances are everything. I have been in a skirt when everyone else is in flipflops and board shorts, but am generally greeted with a smile and a willing attitude.

Likewise for bringing a Spanish friend. My dear amiga Kelly told me this as she was applying for a work visa last year. She swears that having her saint of a boyfriend along meant more efficiency and no Sevillana stink face. If you’ve got a willing friend, invite them to a coffee in exchange for a few hours of quality time with you (And by quality time I mean you pulling out your hair time).

Go at the right time
Officially, winter hours in the office are like a banker’s: 9-5. In the summer, don’t expect the office to be open past 2. I remember my first trip to the office in October of 2007, clutching a paper folder with all of my documents. I left my house barely at 6am, arriving to stand at the end of a very, very long queue. At 8am, you can get your number, but our dear friends the fucnionarios won’t roll in until after 9. For this reason, I tend to show up either right at 9am, or after everyone has had their breakfast rotation at 11.30. It’s also advisable to go after 1 p.m., as the wait times are generally shorter. Note that some tasks have only a certain number of tickets assigned each day, so if you’re merely renewing a student visa, go whenever te da la gana. If it’s something like asking for your marriage book, the earlier, the better.

Be patient
Chances are you’ll be sent to multiple offices, to numerous people. The rules for every type of trámite are complex and must be followed precisely. Use message boards, other expats from your countries and the consulate to be as prepared as possible before you go, and realize there will be lines to wait in, documents missing, frustrations to be had. But, really, it all works out. I waited thirteen months to be able to hold a little red card in my hand, and now don’t have to go back (barring a residence change) until February of 2016. A little patience goes a long way in Spain, especially in the foreigner’s office.


All you expats: Have any extranjería horror stories? Tips for making the process any degree less painful? Got enchufe somewhere? Tell me about it in the comments!

Filed Under: Andalucia, culture shock, democracy, expat, Featured, Guiri Survival Tips, Guri Atope, Language Assistants Program, living abroad, moving abroad, papaleo, typical Spanish · Tagged: , , ,

2010: An Odyssey

January 10, 2011 by · 4 Comments

I can’t believe it had been an entire year without seeing my parents and sister, but I was reminded of just how much time I’d spent apart when I arrived in Dublin last Thursday and saw my dad.

“What a year!” he said, “It crawled!” I gave him a patented Nancy, are you crazy? look.

What a year, indeed. Filled with milestones, farewells, travels and plan changes. Sprinkle in a few disappointments here and there, and it made for a solid, really special year.

     Travels
I visited old, dear destinations, made it eight months without leaving Spain and finally met my goal of visiting 25 countries before my 25th birthday last August. All those hours scouring the Internet for the best deals really pays off – I paid 30€ round-trip to go to Marrakech, 68€ round-trip to go to Carnival in Cologne, Germany, took a 17€ euro overnight bus from Budapest to Prague to arrive to that last destination on my list. I couchsurfed, camped without a tent and nabbed the last room in a luxury hotel during Christmas. Saw old friends, made new ones and accomplished one of my first life goals with a few months to spare.

In 2010, I went to Marrakech and the Atlas Mountains, Cologne Germany for the Carnival Crazy Days, Prague, Budapest, La Coruna, Santiago de Compostela, Santander, Leon, Valladolid twice, Madrid countless times, plenty of beaches, Vigo and the Islas Cies, Portugal, the Southern end of Ireland and am now blogging from Laussanne, Switzerland. Menudo viaje!

More importantly, I completed my second life goal, traveling to 25 foreign countries before turning 25. When I pulled into the Prague bus station early in the morning, I was so disoriented and drowsy that my friend insisted I hold up a sign and take a picture. It’s blackmail worthy, but that feeling of accomplishment you get, whether it’s putting down a book or finishing a paper, was relieving. It was ambitious, but great in process. Switzerland became #26 and I’m thinking about Poland, Turkey or Russia for Holy Week.

     Life Goals and Accomplishments
Apart from the 25 countries business, I came back to Spain wanting to figure out where to go next, improve my Spanish and make friends apart from Kike and his group. I had a stellar year, being able to balance everything I had going on – school, private classes, applying for grad school and the nov – while joining a gym, keeping my room clean and enjoying life in Sevilla. I felt, for the first time, well-connected, well-knowledged, and I even surprised myself that I could be back in my usual busier-than-ever mode and still find time for ocio. That, in itself, is a big accomplishment for me!

The other part was, well, figuring out my next step. I applied to three grad schools kinda (one I never sent), got into both, including the prestigious language college, Middlebury College. I was all set to go and do long-distance for a while when they gave me next to nothing, financially. The director of the program advised me to defer, as the tend to give money to people who put it off due to monetary reasons. I decided, instead, to look into teaching and got into a local university’s masters in Bilingual Ed. When the long hours at the job prohibited me from actually attending, I went with the “experience is the best teacher” mentality, even though Spain thinks otherwise.

Further, this summer’s successful month in Coruña brought me a job as Director of Studies at another summer camp. It was challenging, not knowing anyone or how the camp worked, keeping up with diets and naughty kids and one’s continual asthma attacks, fielding parent phone calls and still trying to have fun, but it was a great experience for my managerial skills, and I’m hoping Forenex will be of help when looking for jobs. I made it through, and to good reviews!

Personally, romantically and professionally, 2010 done me good.

     Farewells
The year started out with a sad departure of my friend Jess’s mom, Irma. Irms was our mom away from home, driving us to Fitz´’s every Wednesday night and giving us money for “taxis.” I heard the news all at once on a Saturday night, Kike’s brother’s birthday, and felt like someone had hit me upside the head. I called Jess and we just cried over the phone to one another for ten minutes. I sent flowers to the service to stand in my place, and it killed me to not be there for my friend when she needed me. It really made me think about being over here, so far away from everyone, so I’m doing my best to put away money should something unthinkable happen.

And, of course, there’s the usual cycle of friends coming and going. I met a really superb group of Americans last year, coupled with my Spanish “familia” which grew and shrunk by half in a matter of weeks. I miss Bri, Kirsten, Sarah, Christene, Josito, Jenna and especially Meag all the time. But, this is the life I’ve chosen, and this has become a part of my life. And a normal one!

By far the hardest was saying goodbye to my coworkers and students at IES Heliche. That job became more than an assistan teachership to me: I learned to value myself, found out that creativity is one of my strong points as a teacher and that education may be my career. But, really, I sobbed the whole week, knowing that a great school and a great set of kids would no longer be mine and that I’d be jobless. I miss my high schoolers a lot – teaching preschool is great for all the hugs and watching the kids grow in their abilities, both manually and intellectually, but I had a really blessed relationship with those kids in Olivares.

     Citizenship issues
Speaking of being jobless, I obviously found one, but it took hours of writing resumes and cover letters, just as much time standing in line at the post office, countless sunny days and tintos missed and a lot of hair-pulling. From getting up at 6am to stand in line at employment offices to getting half-married, I wasn’t going to stop at anything to find a job. A few were offered and turned down (see above: valuing myself), one of which was changing diapers for 40 hours a week. Sick, no. If you want a full account, click here, but as my dear Tonya Luna said, “If anyone is motivated enough to get it, it’s you, Cat! You can do it!”

And do it I did!

     Looking forward
While I try to set some goals for myself at the coming year, I want to enjoy myself more than anything. Travel a bit, hang on to the little social life I had and keep in touch with loved ones. That, and pass the DELE exam in May. I’m trying to take things in stride because, hey, life happens. Kids get born, people pass away and you just keep on moving through.

Filed Under: coming home, expat, expat life, guiri atope, international travel, living abroad, moving abroad · Tagged: ,

With so much drama in the SVQ

March 17, 2009 by · Leave a Comment

Last year, my querida Kait Alley left Spain saying, “This GD country has been doing nothing but shitting on my head for the last eight months.” I kind of feel the same way, just about the last two weeks. It’s been nothing but drama and quite a few tears.

Melissa’s cousin (I will call her Prima because she’s a minor) came to stay with us because, at 17, she was pregnant and being beaten by her gypsy boyfriend. The poor girl was scared out of her mind and confused, leading her to be a perfect house guest – quiet and never in the way. The three of us always tried to have someone at home should she need anything, inviting her out with our friends. After five days here in Sevilla, she and Melissa went home to La Linea de la Concepcion to visit their family.

I arrived home on Monday just before 3pm to find Prima in the sitting room, watching the Simpsons. I asked her how she was feeling, commenting on how she even looked more animada, and she told me she had done a lot of thinking and felt refreshed. I took a shower, and when I left the bathroom, I noticed the door to Melissa’s room was slightly ajar. I went into my room to get dressed and Prima appeared shortly after to tell me she was going to go for a walk outside to clear her head. I offered her my keys, which she refused, saying she’d be back within the hour. By 6:15, she hadn’t showed up and Sanne and I reasoned it was a nice day, or she had gotten lost. I went to give class, and by the time I got home at 9:30ish, she still hadn’t shown up. Melissa came home running from class to find that Prima had robbed 263€ from her tuition money. Since she had been gone for several hours, she could have been anywhere.

Turns out she’s camping out in her boyfriend’s house, refusing to come out. Some of her family members have seen her and there’s already a kidnapping notice for her because she’s a minor (if I understand correctly). She’s got a record already for drugs and is no longer pregnant, which she found out last week.

The other big news is that Kike has to work in Madrid for two months. Madrid isn’t in some isolated corner of the globe, but it will effectively be a long-distance relationship because we will be, at best, 2.5 hours away from one another. Sure, there’s weekends and cell phones, but I’ve gotten accustomed to having him back in Sevilla and was trying to plan around all that so that I would go home for the majority of the two months he’ll be back in Sevilla. Spanish people are spontaneous. Meeee not so much.

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