Or at least I DID dream in Spanish. Twice. Last week. Or at least I SPOKE Spanish in my dreams, and people talked back. One of the dreams also included a conversation in French which was REALLY weird since I've spoken almost no French since September aside from the odd phrase or two to my French and Belgian co-workers.
I woke up totally disoriented because dreaming in Spanish is weird. It was sort of like moving here all over again. Once I got over being disoriented, I realized how far I've come. I'm finishing level B1 in the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages in the next couple of weeks. I can now write essays in Spanish, hold conversations on most topics in Spanish, and generally negotiate my way through the world. A year ago I could barely put a sentence together. I wouldn't have been able to pass the A1 test, so I feel pretty good zipping through to B1.
The problem is that there's still so much that's so hard. Sometimes I wish I did work in Spanish, so I'd have more opportunities to practice. That said, most of my work is writing (which has to happen in English) or data analysis which happens mostly in numbers and is devoid of language. So, I'm not sure how much it would help me anyhow.
The best time to practice Spanish is actually in my daily Basque class. I'm pretty sure I'm learning more Spanish than Basque in those classes, but that's not a bad thing. I can now put together extremely stupid sentences in Basque. Things like "You live in the big red house, but your parents live in the small white house." Very useful in every day life, as you can see. Basque is satisfying my inner linguistics-nerd because there are a lot of really interesting "language-y" things about it. The good thing about the class, though, isn't so much the fact that I'm learning a few words in Basque and how to construct basic sentences, but rather that I'm negotiating the class in Spanish. So I'm asking my questions in Spanish. Trying to negotiate the class without English as the intermediary between Spanish and Basque. And while it's hard, it's SO much easier than doing this in October.
As are most things, honestly. Small talk with the cashier at the grocery store about the new machines for credit cards, eavesdropping on the teenagers on the bus talk about how their moms won't let them buy a certain style of pants, and tomorrow will be the ultimate test. I'm going with our secretary to renew my residence card. Mostly, I'm renewing it because I can get a 2 year renewal and being a resident in Europe has certain benefits (like free healthcare whenever I travel to Europe, easier times in Customs and Immigration in all of the EU countries, etc.). But, the last time I went to administrative offices, I understood next to nothing. I'm hoping tomorrow, I'll understand more and be able to talk more for myself. I feel like the commitment I've made to learning the language has really helped me professionally (hopefully, it will result in more possibilities on the job market), but also it's been a really great personal endeavor. Mostly because I'm not great at it. And usually when I'm not great at something, I just don't do it. I've had it pretty easy being good at most things I like or need to do. School was easy for me. Music was pretty easy for me. And while I was happy to work hard, if I wasn't good at something, I just didn't do it. But now, Spanish is NOT easy for me and I'm not particularly good at it naturally (a point that is made painfully clear every time I need to spontaneously do something like call a restaurant where I left my scarf), but I'm trying very, very much to get better at it. And slowly, I'm seeing some green shoots come out of the little language garden I've planted. It's a long way from being a real flower, but it's a start.
My language endeavors have not been sufficient to negate my tendency to worry about things I have no control over, but I'm starting to get better. I'm renewing my efforts to only worry about things I have control over, trying to focus more on making myself a little bit more relaxed and happier. And with the beautiful weather here the past three or four days, I'm also reminded that I need to enjoy the life I'm living, right now. Spring is right around the corner, and I'm hopeful this is true metaphorically as well.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Nothing says "Happy Monday" ...
... like being greeted on your morning bus by a guy in blackface.
Obviously, this requires a little explanation. We've been celebrating Carnavales around these parts (aka Mardi Gras). While technically yesterday was Carnaval, the Spanish need to have many days for their fiestas, so the festivities began on Thursday night. Carnaval involves dressing up and drinking. Imagine a 6 day Spanish Halloween, and you've got it about right.
So, here's the complication. The most popular costumes this year were ethnic stereotypes. Tons of costumes of Native Americans. Tons of people dressed up as Muslims, Arabs more generally speaking, Chinese, Mexicans ... and this is where the blackface comes in. There were tons ... tons ... tons ... of people wearing blackface. Kids, adults, broad daylight.
Issues of race are particularly fraught here. There's not a lot of diversity in Spain, so I think people don't realize what the issues are. But, it's really, really striking to see something that would be looked upon with disdain in the US. It was particularly strange to see men in drag AND blackface on the front page of the website for the newspaper in town (and they were dressed as Whitney Houston in a casket and mourners. Super classy).
I really don't know how I feel about all of this. I understand that there's very little diversity, but I also feel like when behavior like this is sanctioned (or at least not looked down upon), they're choosing to keep themselves sequestered in an environment that means that they will never achieve racial equality. It's particularly strange since gay marriage is legal here. It seems like a sort of mirror image of the issues in the US, where there are plenty of racial issues - but blackface is never okay, yet gay rights are more controversial in many ways.
I'm thinking more about it, so there may be more musings to come. In the meantime, stay tuned for a language skills update shortly.
Obviously, this requires a little explanation. We've been celebrating Carnavales around these parts (aka Mardi Gras). While technically yesterday was Carnaval, the Spanish need to have many days for their fiestas, so the festivities began on Thursday night. Carnaval involves dressing up and drinking. Imagine a 6 day Spanish Halloween, and you've got it about right.
So, here's the complication. The most popular costumes this year were ethnic stereotypes. Tons of costumes of Native Americans. Tons of people dressed up as Muslims, Arabs more generally speaking, Chinese, Mexicans ... and this is where the blackface comes in. There were tons ... tons ... tons ... of people wearing blackface. Kids, adults, broad daylight.
Issues of race are particularly fraught here. There's not a lot of diversity in Spain, so I think people don't realize what the issues are. But, it's really, really striking to see something that would be looked upon with disdain in the US. It was particularly strange to see men in drag AND blackface on the front page of the website for the newspaper in town (and they were dressed as Whitney Houston in a casket and mourners. Super classy).
I really don't know how I feel about all of this. I understand that there's very little diversity, but I also feel like when behavior like this is sanctioned (or at least not looked down upon), they're choosing to keep themselves sequestered in an environment that means that they will never achieve racial equality. It's particularly strange since gay marriage is legal here. It seems like a sort of mirror image of the issues in the US, where there are plenty of racial issues - but blackface is never okay, yet gay rights are more controversial in many ways.
I'm thinking more about it, so there may be more musings to come. In the meantime, stay tuned for a language skills update shortly.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Time
I lose time every time I fly back from the US. Technically, I lose 6 or 7 hours, depending on where I'm flying from, but in reality it feels like I lose days. And simultaneously like time stops.
I left for the airport Saturday afternoon, Eastern Standard Time, or late Saturday night Central European Time. I got to Frankfurt at 8:30 Sunday morning (European time) or roughly the middle of the night in the US. I then had a 12 hour layover in Frankfurt, part of which was spent sleeping in a hotel which has day rates. My flight was delayed for an hour out of Frankfurt, which put my layover at more like 13 hours. I just checked into my hotel in Bilbao at nearly midnight Spain time or early evening in the US. And I have no clue what time it is. Leaving the US feels like it was ages ago. At least several days, maybe a week. At the same time, I don't feel like any time has passed. If you told me that what actually happened while flying was that you entered a time warp, I'd probably believe you.
The end result of all of this is that I'm exhausted and hungry and need to relax, but sort of can't yet. So starts my week of jet lag. Hopefully, I can figure out time again sooner than later.
I left for the airport Saturday afternoon, Eastern Standard Time, or late Saturday night Central European Time. I got to Frankfurt at 8:30 Sunday morning (European time) or roughly the middle of the night in the US. I then had a 12 hour layover in Frankfurt, part of which was spent sleeping in a hotel which has day rates. My flight was delayed for an hour out of Frankfurt, which put my layover at more like 13 hours. I just checked into my hotel in Bilbao at nearly midnight Spain time or early evening in the US. And I have no clue what time it is. Leaving the US feels like it was ages ago. At least several days, maybe a week. At the same time, I don't feel like any time has passed. If you told me that what actually happened while flying was that you entered a time warp, I'd probably believe you.
The end result of all of this is that I'm exhausted and hungry and need to relax, but sort of can't yet. So starts my week of jet lag. Hopefully, I can figure out time again sooner than later.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Flying
I'm flying again, though this time for reasons unblog-able and not for my usual "I get to go see my husband! And my cat! And eat non-Spanish food! And walk around carrying coffee!!" reasons. I will still get to eat non-Spanish food, so I suppose that is a win.
But this trip is more stressful and less joyful than normal. I'm already exhausted, and I know it's just started. The exhaustion is not really my fault. My flight today left Bilbao at 6:50. In the morning. Which meant I got to the airport when they opened at 6. Which meant I had to be up around 5. And going to sleep around midnight**, that left me with 5 hours of sleep at the start of a very, very long few days. When I rolled out of bed at 5, little did I know the fun was just beginning. I headed down to the lobby - all my stuff in tow at around 5:30, so I could grab breakfast and catch whatever shuttle departure happened between 5:45 and 6. The airport is 5 minutes from the hotel, so I figured I could cut things a little close. I was anxious to get this show on the road though, since I am not flying my usual Iberia-everyone-shows-up-late-including-the-pilot-and-crew airline. Instead I am flying on a German airline, so I assumed (correctly) an on-time departure.
I was minding my own business, digging into my croissant and yogurt and various meat and cheese products that they laid out in the "pre-breakfast" buffet, when four super-drunk Basque guys stumbled in. At first, the demanded a drink at the hotel bar from the poor front-desk guy. When he said he couldn't serve them, but they could have breakfast, they stumbled over to the buffet. They were thinking about food and then started chucking rolls at each other. Then they progressed to the canned peaches. When I got hit with one, I decided it was time to get out of dodge and headed out to my shuttle. The driver was loading my suitcase in the van, when we heard some screaming and shouting from inside. So the driver ordered me to get in the van and then locked me in. Which was good because it turns out the drunk dudes were throwing punches in the lobby and the tiny front-desk guy was trying to break up the fight. So my driver was a bigger guy and headed in to try to break up the fight. The fight then spilled out into the parking lot and there was more screaming in Basque and punching. Then (this is why it's good the van was locked), a dude tried to get into the driver's seat. Eventually, they got tired of fighting and the police came and my driver was able to drive me to the airport. But not without cutting it sort of close. I made my flight, and hopefully my bags did too! The Spanish gate attendant was not even remotely concerned about it, but we'll see when I get to baggage claim, I guess.
My flight to Frankfurt was uneventful, though seemed really long (largely because it was not the quick 45 minute hop from Bilbao to Madrid. Anyhow, I'm going to try to relax and enjoy the Frankfurt airport as much as I can before my flight leaves in just under 3 hours. I'm hoping beyond hope for a little sleep before I land, since I'm sure I can use the relaxation.
** I TRIED to go to bed at 10, but when you are used to staying up late, and you're stressed and anxious, and you're already not the World Champion Sleeper, sleep is not easy to come by.
But this trip is more stressful and less joyful than normal. I'm already exhausted, and I know it's just started. The exhaustion is not really my fault. My flight today left Bilbao at 6:50. In the morning. Which meant I got to the airport when they opened at 6. Which meant I had to be up around 5. And going to sleep around midnight**, that left me with 5 hours of sleep at the start of a very, very long few days. When I rolled out of bed at 5, little did I know the fun was just beginning. I headed down to the lobby - all my stuff in tow at around 5:30, so I could grab breakfast and catch whatever shuttle departure happened between 5:45 and 6. The airport is 5 minutes from the hotel, so I figured I could cut things a little close. I was anxious to get this show on the road though, since I am not flying my usual Iberia-everyone-shows-up-late-including-the-pilot-and-crew airline. Instead I am flying on a German airline, so I assumed (correctly) an on-time departure.
I was minding my own business, digging into my croissant and yogurt and various meat and cheese products that they laid out in the "pre-breakfast" buffet, when four super-drunk Basque guys stumbled in. At first, the demanded a drink at the hotel bar from the poor front-desk guy. When he said he couldn't serve them, but they could have breakfast, they stumbled over to the buffet. They were thinking about food and then started chucking rolls at each other. Then they progressed to the canned peaches. When I got hit with one, I decided it was time to get out of dodge and headed out to my shuttle. The driver was loading my suitcase in the van, when we heard some screaming and shouting from inside. So the driver ordered me to get in the van and then locked me in. Which was good because it turns out the drunk dudes were throwing punches in the lobby and the tiny front-desk guy was trying to break up the fight. So my driver was a bigger guy and headed in to try to break up the fight. The fight then spilled out into the parking lot and there was more screaming in Basque and punching. Then (this is why it's good the van was locked), a dude tried to get into the driver's seat. Eventually, they got tired of fighting and the police came and my driver was able to drive me to the airport. But not without cutting it sort of close. I made my flight, and hopefully my bags did too! The Spanish gate attendant was not even remotely concerned about it, but we'll see when I get to baggage claim, I guess.
My flight to Frankfurt was uneventful, though seemed really long (largely because it was not the quick 45 minute hop from Bilbao to Madrid. Anyhow, I'm going to try to relax and enjoy the Frankfurt airport as much as I can before my flight leaves in just under 3 hours. I'm hoping beyond hope for a little sleep before I land, since I'm sure I can use the relaxation.
** I TRIED to go to bed at 10, but when you are used to staying up late, and you're stressed and anxious, and you're already not the World Champion Sleeper, sleep is not easy to come by.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Sad
At Christmas Eve Mass, Father Rick started his homily by singing "Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord" from Godspell.
All of a sudden, in the middle of the church, I was tearing up. The memory struck me the way they do on TV shows. You close your eyes and flash back to the moment that you first heard something or first did something, and your senses are overwhelmed by remembering things exactly as they were.
When I was a junior in high school, I was in our school musical, Godspell. I loved theatre ... not as much as I loved violin, but I really, really loved to sing. And I loved to perform, and I loved to hang out with my friends. And Godspell was this perfect storm of everything I loved. Every rehearsal, I loved that show. I was insanely busy then - the same weekend of the show was the state competition for another group I was in (Future Problem Solving - long story). We finished the show one night, we drove to Ann Arbor at the crack of dawn the next day, competed, and I came home for the show that night. It turns out we did well in the competition, placing in the state for the first (and only time) in my 8 years of competing. I was competing in a million things, taking a thousand lessons, and while I loved it all, that show was like a little haven. It wasn't the only show I did in high school, but it was easily my favorite. I got to sing the best song in the show which ended with incredibly high notes that lasted forever. I got to play a number of silly, funny, and beautiful characters. I loved it.
I always thought of theatre as a side project in my life, but Godspell takes up a big piece of the forefront of my high school memories. I remember working on the sets and costumes. I remember exactly what I wore in that show and how great it felt to wear the costume every night. I remember climbing the onstage scaffolding at the end of my song and standing over everyone's heads as I got to sing with pure joy. I remember losing my voice for our last performance and whispering almost everything until I got to my solo, in hopes of having some voice remaining. I remember all the words to all the songs, and a fair bit of the dialog too. More than any other play or musical, this one made a mark on me that has yet to fade 12 years later.
Our director always wanted me to do more theatre, but theatre took up a lot of time and was hard to do in conjunction with everything else I did. He wasn't always the easiest person to work for because he demanded a lot from us, but he led us in what always ended up being joyful experiences.
Today, he passed away unexpectedly. The news hit me harder than I would have guessed it would. And, since I'm pretty sure I never told him thank you for all of the joy he let us experience singing, dancing and playing on stage, I figured I would say it here:
Thank you, thank you, thank you for giving me those opportunities, those chances to do something I truly loved to do. Thank you for teaching me well. I really, really appreciate it.
All of a sudden, in the middle of the church, I was tearing up. The memory struck me the way they do on TV shows. You close your eyes and flash back to the moment that you first heard something or first did something, and your senses are overwhelmed by remembering things exactly as they were.
When I was a junior in high school, I was in our school musical, Godspell. I loved theatre ... not as much as I loved violin, but I really, really loved to sing. And I loved to perform, and I loved to hang out with my friends. And Godspell was this perfect storm of everything I loved. Every rehearsal, I loved that show. I was insanely busy then - the same weekend of the show was the state competition for another group I was in (Future Problem Solving - long story). We finished the show one night, we drove to Ann Arbor at the crack of dawn the next day, competed, and I came home for the show that night. It turns out we did well in the competition, placing in the state for the first (and only time) in my 8 years of competing. I was competing in a million things, taking a thousand lessons, and while I loved it all, that show was like a little haven. It wasn't the only show I did in high school, but it was easily my favorite. I got to sing the best song in the show which ended with incredibly high notes that lasted forever. I got to play a number of silly, funny, and beautiful characters. I loved it.
I always thought of theatre as a side project in my life, but Godspell takes up a big piece of the forefront of my high school memories. I remember working on the sets and costumes. I remember exactly what I wore in that show and how great it felt to wear the costume every night. I remember climbing the onstage scaffolding at the end of my song and standing over everyone's heads as I got to sing with pure joy. I remember losing my voice for our last performance and whispering almost everything until I got to my solo, in hopes of having some voice remaining. I remember all the words to all the songs, and a fair bit of the dialog too. More than any other play or musical, this one made a mark on me that has yet to fade 12 years later.
Our director always wanted me to do more theatre, but theatre took up a lot of time and was hard to do in conjunction with everything else I did. He wasn't always the easiest person to work for because he demanded a lot from us, but he led us in what always ended up being joyful experiences.
Today, he passed away unexpectedly. The news hit me harder than I would have guessed it would. And, since I'm pretty sure I never told him thank you for all of the joy he let us experience singing, dancing and playing on stage, I figured I would say it here:
Thank you, thank you, thank you for giving me those opportunities, those chances to do something I truly loved to do. Thank you for teaching me well. I really, really appreciate it.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
La Sociedad
The boyfriend of a friend of mine is a member of a sociedad** here. Basically, it is a members-only organization that has access to a communal kitchen and a large dining room. The sociedades tend to be male-only in terms of membership, and historically, only men were allowed in at all. Of course, times have changed, so Friday 10 of us were invited over to cook at the Sociedad.
Only 3 people (including the member) are allowed in the kitchen at a time, so we had to cook in shifts. But overall it was a ton of fun. Not just eating our meal, but also watching everyone else eat and cook. We had pintxos to start, then huge salads, huge merluza (hake), risotto, revuelto de hongos (sort of scrambled eggs with fancy marinated mushrooms), quiche, flan, mini-cheesecake things, fruit, etc. etc. It was all delicious, and we all ate a disgusting amount of food.
But most of all it was really, really fun. I laughed harder than I have in weeks. Then, yesterday was another friend of mine's boyfriend's birthday. So another dinner. And more fun and laughing. And lots of Spanish people singing tons of songs.
And then today was unfairly gorgeous. Nearly 60 degrees and sunny and fantastic. So I went for a long walk and was really grateful for this weekend and for my time here. While it's sometimes frustrating, and while I always miss Pete, I'm also really happy to live this life right now. So weekend 1 of "appreciate what I have" is officially a success.
You can read more about sociedades on wikipedia here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Txoko. They're apparently called txokos in Basque, but no one really calls them that.
**Note: Sociedad should not be confused with Real Sociedad, the fútbol team here.
Only 3 people (including the member) are allowed in the kitchen at a time, so we had to cook in shifts. But overall it was a ton of fun. Not just eating our meal, but also watching everyone else eat and cook. We had pintxos to start, then huge salads, huge merluza (hake), risotto, revuelto de hongos (sort of scrambled eggs with fancy marinated mushrooms), quiche, flan, mini-cheesecake things, fruit, etc. etc. It was all delicious, and we all ate a disgusting amount of food.
But most of all it was really, really fun. I laughed harder than I have in weeks. Then, yesterday was another friend of mine's boyfriend's birthday. So another dinner. And more fun and laughing. And lots of Spanish people singing tons of songs.
And then today was unfairly gorgeous. Nearly 60 degrees and sunny and fantastic. So I went for a long walk and was really grateful for this weekend and for my time here. While it's sometimes frustrating, and while I always miss Pete, I'm also really happy to live this life right now. So weekend 1 of "appreciate what I have" is officially a success.
You can read more about sociedades on wikipedia here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Txoko. They're apparently called txokos in Basque, but no one really calls them that.
**Note: Sociedad should not be confused with Real Sociedad, the fútbol team here.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
A New Year
I have a bunch of professional resolutions this year. There are things I really want to change in my attitude and performance regarding my job. But I also have a few personal things I want to try to be better at. Since I'm a sucker for accountability, I'll write them here and check in occasionally on how I'm doing.
- Eat better and move more. Peter and I say the best diet plan is "Eat less s*** and move your a**". I'm not really feeling the need to diet, but I do want to try to reduce the amount of garbage I eat even more than I have since moving to Spain. I walk a TON here, but I also want to purposefully carve out space for actual cardio exercise that leaves me sweating and strength training/pilates work. I feel better when I do it, so I need to be consistent about it. Once there's daylight for hours besides when I am at work, I also want to try to start running so Pete and I can run a 5k. We'll see how that goes.
- Worry only about things I can control. If I can't control it, I don't get to worry about it. Either it will happen or it won't and worrying about it only causes me stress. Those things I can control, I can worry about, but only if I'm taking actionable steps to get the outcome I want. So I'm allowed to worry about job applications while I'm sending them in, or job interviews while I prepare for them. But I am not allowed to worry about the decisions the committees make while the application is out of my hands. Either they like me enough to interview or hire me or they don't. Either there's a job in academia for me this year, or there's not. If there's not, I'll figure things out at that point, but no worrying until this point. This is a really, really important one for me. Worrying about jobs, getting a job in the US, when I will be able to live in the same place as Pete again has taken up tons of my mental energy while living in Spain. Sometimes, it's gotten in the way of me enjoying the fact that I live in a beautiful city in an interesting country with great people and have a great job. I need to focus more on being grateful for that ... which leads me to the final resolution.
- Be happy for what I have instead of lamenting what I don't. Sure, I'd love a tenure-track job in Chicago where I could be with Pete and Sophie all the time. But I don't have that. Instead, I have a great job that I love and that I'm good at where I learn new things every day, and get to have this crazy ridiculous adventure. I have a husband who supports me. I have a whole lot more than a lot of people and I want to try to just be more peaceful with that instead of always wanting more. I don't want to be one of those people who is never satisfied ...
So that's the plan. Hopefully I can be a little bit better about these goals every day. I'll keep you posted.
- Eat better and move more. Peter and I say the best diet plan is "Eat less s*** and move your a**". I'm not really feeling the need to diet, but I do want to try to reduce the amount of garbage I eat even more than I have since moving to Spain. I walk a TON here, but I also want to purposefully carve out space for actual cardio exercise that leaves me sweating and strength training/pilates work. I feel better when I do it, so I need to be consistent about it. Once there's daylight for hours besides when I am at work, I also want to try to start running so Pete and I can run a 5k. We'll see how that goes.
- Worry only about things I can control. If I can't control it, I don't get to worry about it. Either it will happen or it won't and worrying about it only causes me stress. Those things I can control, I can worry about, but only if I'm taking actionable steps to get the outcome I want. So I'm allowed to worry about job applications while I'm sending them in, or job interviews while I prepare for them. But I am not allowed to worry about the decisions the committees make while the application is out of my hands. Either they like me enough to interview or hire me or they don't. Either there's a job in academia for me this year, or there's not. If there's not, I'll figure things out at that point, but no worrying until this point. This is a really, really important one for me. Worrying about jobs, getting a job in the US, when I will be able to live in the same place as Pete again has taken up tons of my mental energy while living in Spain. Sometimes, it's gotten in the way of me enjoying the fact that I live in a beautiful city in an interesting country with great people and have a great job. I need to focus more on being grateful for that ... which leads me to the final resolution.
- Be happy for what I have instead of lamenting what I don't. Sure, I'd love a tenure-track job in Chicago where I could be with Pete and Sophie all the time. But I don't have that. Instead, I have a great job that I love and that I'm good at where I learn new things every day, and get to have this crazy ridiculous adventure. I have a husband who supports me. I have a whole lot more than a lot of people and I want to try to just be more peaceful with that instead of always wanting more. I don't want to be one of those people who is never satisfied ...
So that's the plan. Hopefully I can be a little bit better about these goals every day. I'll keep you posted.
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