Studying abroad is the opportunity of a lifetime. It sounds cliché, but I know it’s true because this is my second go-around. Last spring I studied in Venice, Italy and had the time of my life. It was my first time ever leaving the east coast of the U.S., and since then I’ve had the travel bug. Because I applied to study here while still in Venice, Salamanca seemed to be so far in the future. Suddenly January rolled around, and I thought to myself, ‘Where did the summer go? How did I actually live through those 19 credits I took fall semester? Why is winter break always so short?’ As I sit in the Wake Forest Center, I find it hard to believe that I have not yet been here for a month. Time flies when you are having fun … and adjusting to culture shock.
I came to Salamanca expecting to have this city on lock. My mindset was more or less, ‘I’ve done this before. It’s going to be Venice all over again. I love European culture, and this will be the time of my life!’ At the orientation meeting when they discuss the implications of culture shock with students, I scoffed—that would never happen to me …or so I thought. In retrospect, it was silly because Italian culture is NOT Spanish culture. Adjusting to life here has definitely been interesting (with that being a euphemism for an amalgam of emotions which span the entire spectrum from difficult to fun to confusing, with many more sentiments in between).
I honestly think I forgot what it’s like to live with a family. In Venice, I resided in a mansion on the Grand Canal with a ton of people with whom I was friends prior to the trip. We thought we were being cultural, but really we were fratting it up as we shotgunned beers on the house dock over the Canal. Here I live with a madre and her perrito, both of whom I absolutely ADORE. Yet I’ve had a hard time living with a parent again. I always have someone to cook for me and remake my bed if I don’t make it to the standard of a five-star hotel … it’s weird. My parents didn’t even do that when I used to live at home. I don’t recall the last time I asked my mother to make me so much as a sandwich, but I’m about positive she probably laughed at me when the request was made. Here, my madre is like a supreme caretaker, always watching over me. At first this drove me crazy, but now I feel like we have become friends. I love our daily conversations, and she makes me laugh more than most people I know. Her ranting tirades in Spanish about various topics put me in stitches. Although she is a like a mom, she totally encourages going out and will tell me I’m crazy or like an old person if there is ever a Thursday or Friday where I feel like chilling with Hulu and ice cream.
Home life aside, there are also just aspects Spanish life in general which I just did not understand at the beginning. Why do they insist on putting salt on salads? Everything should be eaten in moderation … except pig should be eaten with every meal? Smoking is absolutely not detrimental to one’s lungs, but running for miles in the middle of winter is cause to send you to a psychiatrist (or at least a reason for passersby to stare like you are from Mars)? Now that time has passed, I have come to simply accept I will never understand some of the norms of Spanish culture. In doing this, I can simultaneously embrace the aspects I do love, like paella, walking everywhere, drinking sangria on a regular basis, and completely neglecting the English language outside of email and Facebook.