Weeks 3 & 4

Well hello guys

It’s now officially been a month since my arrival in Spain. I really feel like I should write about everything that I’ve done in the past 2.5 weeks since I updated my blog but there is so much to say and it seems like I’m not even able to find the time running from one thing to another.

The weekend before last we (Katherine and I) went to Sevilla because it was a bank holiday Monday. I’ve been wanting to go to Sevilla for some time so it was the perfect opportunity to do so – it was five hours drive both ways though but completely worth it.When there, we couchsurfed with a French guy, Olivier and we met some of his French friends and went for a few apéros and soirées à la discothèque!

Last weekend was fairly chilled out as it was money-saving time (I don’t know when I’m going to get paid but it doesn’t seem like it will be anytime soon ha) so we finally walked up the hill in the town to the castle. It was worth it!

We also bought bikes – so shiny and new and beautiful. I really hope my bike in Manchester doesn’t get jealous of this temporary relationship…

We’ve been to the theatre TWICE this week, which is probably the most cultured you could get in life really. Lorca has a small but impressive theatre and we saw a Spanish production of Mamma Mia! (which was entertaining to say the least) and also Madama Butterfly the opera on this Tuesday. What can I say – all cultured out!

I finally got my Spanish residency card – it’s taken me about three weeks and so many different trips to so many different official places (I have a few friends in high places now, and possibly enemies…) but today’s experience was undoubtedly the most absurd.

I was in the police station for the third time today, trying to find out if I could see the “jefe” (boss) who I spoke to last time. (NB. I am on first name/nickname basis with him “Juanjo” and I also have his mobile number). I got told some ridiculous nonsense about having to phone up online and book a time to see him and then there was some even more ridiculous nonsense about waiting two weeks for an appointment. If you’d ever been in this town you’d know that is complete rubbish. So I made it relatively clear that I knew that was rubbish and eventually he told me to join the queue (which only had about three people in it anyway).

Juanjo was in his office with and English/German couple and I was reading my book outside when suddenly he appeared in the doorway and went “Oi Raquel, you’re English aren’t you” (in Spanish) and I suddenly found myself mediating between the Spanish police boss and the English couple (who were trying to get a temporary NI number to buy a car, but didn’t want to apply for a residency card as they only live in Spain six months a year). I managed to explain this to Juanjo, who had been under the impression they wanted the card (in which case I would have told the couple – GOOD LUCK you may never get it, I don’t even have mine yet) but he gave them a number, signed a paper and it was dead easy. It was fun being an interpreter for ten minutes! I was actually amazed that I was even able to do that in Spanish after only a month.

The other big thing that happened last week was that I made a dramatic hair decision. For some time, I’ve been wondering what I’d look like if I chopped it ALL off. It’s been an ongoing wonderment for at least a year and a half – but only a wonderment. I did my research (Pinterest). I asked friends for their advice (most gasped, paused then said “well..if you really want to” – which doesn’t help) and generally I looked in the mirror a bit, squinting, trying to imagine my face without a mane surrounding it.

BEFORE.

After!

I went for it in the end, and I have to say, I think it was the best hair decision I’ve ever made. Easy to brush, easy to wash, no styling required. Every girl’s dream.

Having my hair cut like that felt like a big risk though – I’m not going to lie, I felt nervous in the chair when she was hacking away with scissors, babbling away in rapid Spanish. But like so many things in life, sometimes when you’ve wanted something for a long time and you have to eventually say “it’s now or never” (followed by YOLO).

So…it’s a short post this time (for me, ha) but I could summarize the first month in one word: testing.

Being here sometimes feels like I’m taking a massive detour in life. Why Spanish? Why here, and why now? I’ve wanted for a long time to go to a Spanish speaking country and learn Spanish, learn about Spanish/Hispanic culture and, let’s be honest, become trilingual! The testing bit has only just come now that I’m here though. Since my first week, there’s been massive culture shock. Compared with French, my level of Spanish is decidedly more basic. Quite honestly, I have had many, many moments of wanting to do a massive U-Turn back to the UK.

It isn’t going to happen though. One month later, weighing up the delights and the horrors so far, I know that culture shock is just a matter of waiting it out. Not being able to speak Spanish is clearly a lie I’ve taught myself – today’s interpreting at the police station made it clear to me that although my Spanish is far from perfect, it’s already streets ahead from being a total beginner. And as for the whole, what am I doing here, why now, what next? saga in my life…well…what else would I be doing if I wasn’t here...?

One thing’s for sure, I probably wouldn’t be writing this blog.

Hasta luego chicos!

Weeks 1 & 2

Hello folks!

Well it’s already been two weeks now since I arrived here in Spain and so much has happened. I meant to update this last week, when I was exploring the town but I never got around to it because it felt like I was in a whirlwind of new experiences “nuevas experiencias”.

Okay well I will start with briefly outlining the 21^st of September, which was the day that I left Manchester. It was an early start – 5 am out of bed..! Mum drove me to the airport and we got there about 6 because no one was on the motorway that early (thankfully). My plane wasn’t due to leave until 7:45 so we had a bit of time to sit and chat before I had to head off through the gates. When it got to about 6:30 I made a move and all of a sudden, instead of just getting on with it and making those “easy” steps towards departures, I found myself clinging on to my mum, my ultimate “security blanket” and I began to break down in tears. All of a sudden it hit me that I don’t feel confident doing this this time. I’ve done this before and yet this time there was a huge part of me that wanted to just get back in the car with her, drive home and forget all about this crazy idea to live in Spain. I felt like I wanted to be 5 years old again – who ever gave me permission to be a grown up?

She’s an experienced mum though and she wasn’t about to let me give up so easily. After a bit of teary hugging and last minute prayers, I made it through the doors a little shakily. After that, there was a MANIC security queue and scanning my bag took ages, resulting in me almost missing my flight but fortunately I didn’t. I arrived safely in Murcia San Javier around 11am Spanish time and then started the long-winded journey to get to Lorca, some 98km away. Yeah. Talk about provincial. It took me one taxi, two buses and one train to get to the lovely little town of Lorca. Once there, I took a few photos at the station whilst waiting for Rúben, who is the son of the people I am staying with here until I find a place to live. He and his family are really lovely, warm people and I have to say, I hope that we stay friends throughout my time here. It already kind of feels like they’re my family too a bit now.

My first tortilla (on the Autobus)

The view from my room

More view

Beer & train station

Exploring Lorca

The "river"

The castle of Lorca (yet to be explored by me)

Katherine! My only other English friend

Diarying in Murcia

Exploring Murcia

Tapas with Rúben (AKA Spanish "sushi)

One word about tapas: Sushi-like. Just not Japanese, with wasabi, soy sauce or chopsticks. In some places you just go in and choose from a glass container thing what you want - the prices are written above - and you eat what you like! Here I have a shot of gazpacho, tortilla, salmon, chorizo and "ensaladilla rusa" ("Russian" salad).

Since arriving, there have been some ups and downs with work already. I am employed by the government to work at a state primary school (Alfonso X El Sabio if anyone is interested) for 12 hours a week for 8 months (1^st October-31^st May). That is legitimate, official and the Spanish government know that I am doing that.

Or do they?

Well that was one of the problems that I encountered. The day before I was supposed to start work, I went into the primary school to check everything out, meet some of my classes and do any paperwork that needed doing (like signing a contract). It turns out that there were some papers I was supposed to send to the Consejeria de Educacion (Education govt people of Murcia) BEFORE starting work – and oh by the way I also need the equivalent of a national insurance number (NIE) before tomorrow at work.

So it was a lot to take in, considering NO ONE had told me this, no one had given me any warning about these requirements that I had to do myself upon arrival. I began to panic inwardly and outwardly and my mentor teacher said “No te pasa nada – let’s just get a coffee and think about this”. This relaxed attitude is something that I have not been able to get my head around since arriving. How can you tell someone – “Don’t worry about it!” in the same breath as “This is really important and if you don’t do this by tomorrow you can’t work”? “No te pasa nada” is one of my favourite Spanish expressions, because it sounds so beautiful, breathy and carefree and you can imagine someone enveloping you in a cocoon of Spanish warmth as they tell you this…but…it doesn’t always solve your problems.

So basically it took me two trips to Murcia (1 hour train ride either way) to get my papers handed in to the Consejeria, two trips to the bank to pay for a thing called a “tasa” (a paper I needed in order get a national insurance number seeing as I did not pay for a visa) and then two trips to the Oficina de Extranjeria, a two and a half hour wait to finally be presented with the piece of paper that will allow me to be a real human being in Spain for the next eight months. It contains an important number which will get me my salary, allow me to open a bank account, entitle me to social security, etc.

So I will start on Monday now, which is tomorrow. Watch this space – there will be updates in next week’s entry most probably about working at this primary school.

In addition to that, I’ve also managed to find myself another job in the evenings. I wondered before I got here what I would do with my spare time (as 12 hours “working” is nothing and the salary is not as high as other countries in British Council) and it was quite a blessing that this other job opened up. It is teaching English in the evenings Monday-Friday, 8 hours a week. I have done one lesson there so far (9-11 year olds) and it seems to be a pretty standard TEFL job but with younger students rather than adults.

On the whole, I think both jobs are going to be useful experiences for me. I think it will enable me to see whether I like teaching primary and early secondary, if I ever do make the step to become a full-on teacher one day (again – that’s one career choice amidst a sea of others in my mind at the moment). But mainly, I think it gives me more of a routine here. The working day is broken up here – it’s technically 9am-8PM with a break from 2-5PM when families go home, eat together, have a rest and prepare for the final three hours of work which are later in the day. It is a huge contrast to England’s 9-5 working day where you don’t really get a proper break except for lunch which, from my experience this summer, can end up being a bit work-like because sometimes you don’t even leave your desk.

People mock the Spaniards a bit for this 2-5pm “siesta” thing but there are some positive aspects to it. For me, it means that I can finish up work at the primary school by 2pm, have something to eat then head to the other school before 5pm to prepare my lessons for the evening and then go home. And then the weekends are free! So unlike the old life working late into the night as a barmaid from Friday to Sunday – bleeeurgh.

Anyway, as this next week unfolds at work, I will get to see what it is like working at both places. Like all jobs, there will be some positives and negatives but the most important thing is to be thankful that I have found work.

Since arriving, there have been some difficult adjustments to make in terms of the culture, attitudes of people here and language issues. I have been very fortunate to have made friendships already – there is another girl from the UK called Katherine here in Lorca. She also works at the evening school. We are sort of in the same boat in terms of everything. We don’t know much about this region at all and we’ve both experienced culture shock. For me it’s been especially in relation to the language – I feel as if I’ve been thrown into the deep end big time with Spanish. I’ve got a strong base level – meaning I can make myself understood for the most part and if people explain things clearly and evenly then I can understand. But day to day, people talk so fast and about 70% of the time I don’t think I understand. I am having some problems expressing myself in idiomatic situations, like telling jokes and stories for example. My aim by the end of the year is to be able to understand gists at least 80% of the time and express myself more and use idiomatic language more confidently. Bit by bit, with regular study and practise, these are manageable goals.

When you make the decision to travel, it has the potential to change you for the better but it also has a massive impact on you. It tears you away from everything which is familiar and makes you more vulnerable emotionally.

Even before arriving, as I have mentioned, I did not feel confident deep down inside. I knew on the surface that I was capable of doing all the stuff I’ve done before – attempting to communicate, doing admin, making friends etc – but deep down inside I was thinking I can’t put myself through this change again, it’s too difficult emotionally. I want to be in a safe, secure and familiar surrounding where there’s no risk for me to feel unsettled and vulnerable in my soul.

Those were my initial fears and to be honest, they are still lurking there. Every other day I am here I think about what I’ve left behind in England. There’s the career ladder, which sounds boring but it’s sensible and when I think where I am going in the future, I panic. There’s people I love and miss, which needs no further explanation. Then there’s the familiar ground of my own country – although I love being a part of a foreign culture and integrating into the language and lives of those who are foreign, there’s something about belonging to a country and nationality that keeps you pulled together. My life has been so full of moving from here to there that it just seems normal to have to be on the move constantly – whether that’s abroad or in my “home” country.

In short, these past two weeks have been a big challenge to me. I feel totally out of my depth here; more than once I have felt that I should go home because I don’t understand how this is ever going to fit all together and make a positive difference to my future. In my head, I had this “easy life” pictured: a beach, a siesta or two, no language problems and a sense of security in myself. At the moment, this is not the reality that I am experiencing. I think I am at square one and there are many steps to climb in order to make this year count.

There is one thing that holds me together in this confusing and somewhat difficult time. Although I do feel very much like I am a bit stranded out in the ocean, out of my depth, feeling like I’m going to drown under things like this strange culture, language and lack of “security” on all sides, I know that God is with me wherever I go. This is something that I have always known to be true, wherever I am, but it has never felt more reassuring than it does now. I am reminded of a verse that appears in Psalm 36: 5. It is also in a song by Hillsong called You are My Strength, in Spanish Eres Mí Fortaleza.

“Your love O Lord, reaches to the heavens,

Your faithfulness to the skies.”

“Tu amor Senor, llega hasta los cielos,

Tu fidelidad, nunca fallará.”

It’s short and simple but so powerful. Having this knowledge now, at this moment in my life, gives me this sense of security when all else around me seems very insecure.

So on that note, I will leave this blog entry there because it’s already an essay!

Until next time.

xx

Guess who's back, back again

Hello all!

Long time, no blog it would seem. Well I’ve decided to re-open this blog which I kept on my year abroad in Paris (and the last time I was in Spain, summer 2013). A lot has happened since then, even though it has only been a year.

First of all, I finally graduated this summer – four years of hard work that at times seemed like it was never going to end well! – but it did end well, I got my degree and the grades I wanted.

My sister Kate got married and also is expecting a little girl in November! SO EXCITED to be an aunty. I’m going to shower this lucky girl with presents that are glittery or have mermaids/ballerinas on them….

My housemates and I just spent the summer working in Southampton all together – well except Debs sadly! It’s OK I think she’s enjoying Switzerland! We all somehow got summer jobs working at the university which meant that we got to stick around in Southampton/delay final goodbyes for another three months. In a side note by the way, I never expected to get this summer job at the university. I was set up to do what I did last summer, café/restaurant/bar work but honestly the first job I got in June was depressing as anything – working in an ice cream shop – but at the time I desperately needed money. So when I heard that I had got this other job (MUCH better money, working with my university friends and using my brain) I was so happy I literally can’t describe to you all the happiness I felt. Which was just as well for me because although I really enjoyed working at university, it was quite a long and intensive job and there were a few moments mid-way through/towards the end that I felt tired and that the end was not in sight. But everything was wrapped up nicely and saying goodbye to all my colleagues who have become good friends was quite bittersweet.

In fact, speaking of bittersweet stuff, that leads me quite nicely onto the next part, which was leaving Southampton. I realised this summer that this year has probably been the longest period of time that I have remained in this city – previous years I only really was there mid-September until mid-June and then I would be off somewhere in the summer. But this year, I only spent about 2 weeks at home over Christmas then a couple of days for the wedding, then in Easter (because of my dissertation panic) I only went home for a weekend. Then barring a couple of weekends over the summer period, I spent all of my time in Southampton. It inevitably made me feel quite attached to it and leaving was hard because that meant leaving somewhere that had finally become like a stable ‘base’ for me. 

Southampton had become somewhere that I knew I would always return to because of university.

Which leads me on to my next bit – the ‘reason’ for this blog re-opening! Saying goodbye to people in Southampton and saying goodbye to it as a place was harder for me than I can express in words really. I didn’t give it any thought in my last week there because I was so focused on practical things like seeing various individuals, packing up my stuff (never an easy task pour moi!) and just mentally preparing myself for a pretty long journey back to Manchester with suitcases AND a bike! But now I’ve been at home for a week now, I’ve been feeling sad about leaving Southampton and also leaving Manchester, two places I underestimated a lot. Both are places where I have had security, stability and good friends. Leaving people is always one of the hardest things to do and just because I do it often doesn’t mean it gets easier.

So that leads me onto the next bit which is – now I’m a graduate what am I doing? The answer is moving to Spain. I guess the only thing I can say is this: I didn’t know I would be going there this time last year and I’m not sure if it where I thought I would be going earlier on this year! But after applying for various things and getting rejected (from French jobs) and getting accepted by some (jobs in Russia) I decided that doing a language assistantship in Spain was the best way forward. It has many pros – I will be earning money, I will finally be improving my rusty Spanish and the part time nature of the job gives me time to have Spanish hobbies (salsa, the beach, SANGRIA) but also to think about what it is that I want to do next in life.

Even though I am looking forward to Spain, I am not going to deny that I am a little bit apprehensive about LIFE. I was so sure last September that I would have a career plan by this point. But I really don’t know anything for certain. There are so many things that are possible but none of them are guaranteed yet. Depending on who I talk to, this is either positive or negative. I fluctuate between “WHAT AM I DOING” and “I LOVE BEING FREE FROM THE CAREER TREADMILL”. I think at this very moment I am thinking the first, if I’m honest. It’s probably because I don’t know the area that I am going to in Spain, I have no idea what to expect about who I’m going to meet, what I’m going to realise and decide next year and exactly what difficulties I will encounter during this next year abroad. I start panicking sometimes and get flashbacks of the rural French town with no internet, furniture-less apartment and cancelled trains that made up my entire first three months of my French year abroad.

In spite of all this, there is another side to me that knows this is just an emotional reaction to leaving. I don’t know what the future holds at all after Spain – and I don’t know what Spain holds for me. All I know is that I am in this now and backing out is not an option.

On that note, I feel that I have rambled on far too long and you get the point – I’m in limbo and my emotions are not quite aligned with the changes that have occurred over the past six months. But I think I should end this post on a positive note by saying that everyone who I have worked with or spent time with during these past months – Southampton and Manchester – you’ve all been fabulous and I’m going to miss you. It is never goodbye, just “see you later”. 

Where I will be next year.

Exodus

Well this is my last blog post about my year abroad! I arrived back in the UK two days ago after a very weird week of packing up and saying goodbye.

There are lots of different emotions I felt at leaving but I guess all I can say is that it has been a good year (7 months). The first three months were crazy and disorganised and I felt so in-transit the whole time that it was almost as if I wasn't actually treating my flat as my own space, my own home. But these past few months of living with Dora made me realise how much I needed someone to live with.

There were visits around France and Europe which allowed me to see good friends and reminded me of how much there is I haven't seen on this continent, let alone in the rest of the world.

I said goodbyes this week to the other assistants I've met here which also is a little weird because it seems like only yesterday we were all meeting for the first time and we had absolutely no idea what was in store for us for the next seven months – school-wise, accommodation-wise, socially...

I couldn't have asked for better friends this year – the ones that let me crash on their sofas in Paris, the ones that came from all over the place to visit me when I was having my blue first three months and the ones that simply stuck by me, especially my dear Dora – the flatmate I never knew would become my best friend here. 

I also couldn't have asked for better colleagues – they did everything they could to welcome me to the school, ease me into the life of teaching and made me laugh a lot too, it has to be said. They are great and I hope I'll see them again one day:

I couldn't have asked for a better location, really. I know it's not in Paris, but the business of Paris (and expenses) can be so overwhelming that sometimes it's nice to retreat to the old “banlieue”. I am fairly certain that I couldn't have had a better year abroad – not in Martinique, Guadeloupe, Réunion, Guyane Francaise or the Cote d'Azur...those places will always have a magical quality about them I'm sure but this year it was important for me to experience reality too.

And most importantly, I couldn't have asked for a more wonderful family of Africans that welcomed me into their home – literally. Church this year has been in an apartment, no-one wants to have to cram into an apartment and hold a church service, but in their case they didn't even have a building and they hardly had any money to rent one.

Two weeks ago, on Easter Sunday, in the relatively small apartment, they proudly announced that they have found a room in a building in Viry-Chatillon (mid way to Paris – my place) which they will be able to have church in from now on. They don't really have money to rent it and there are about twenty five of them maximum who actually turn up, but in their own words: Hallelujah!

We have been in this together all year. Everyone has come again and again every week, the pastors, families, kids, etc. and instead of giving up and saying they'll never get their building for church, a place to actually play musical instruments and a place where lots and lots of people can come because there is space – instead of giving up on this ideal, this African family held their faith. They held onto their faith and in the end, they were blessed with the building they wanted.

The whole experience made me believe that God is at the centre of their faith and if they can't trust anything else, they hold onto God and they are blessed by it. This is what all faith should be about – not religion nor rules nor arguments about songs to play in church services nor disagreements about other things that Christians don't see eye to eye on. Faith is exactly what happens when there's a group of you fighting for the same thing – church building, maintaining your community against the odds and trusting in God, one hundred percent.

Well that's really it from me and from my year abroad. It seems like just yesterday that I was writing my first blog post – from McDonalds – and I was tearful with frustration. But at the same time, that was light years ago and so much changed in the space of six months. So I guess that if any of you reading are about to embark on an adventurous journey into the unknown or simply moving to a new city, don't worry yet. If you set your heart on really doing it, you can't let those worries get in your way.

And now I think that it's time to take a hiatus with this blog. This year was the perfect opportunity to start a blog and I think that it's been a great project for myself. But the next step with writing for me might have to involve something completely different.

So readers, until then!