Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Things I'm Not Good At
The number one thing I am not good at is leaving. Even if I'm not happy about where I am, leaving is always hard. Even moving from my apartment in Evanston (which was not an easy or fun place to live) into Peter's house was hard. So I'm not too surprised that leaving here is also hard. And sad. Even though moving in here was not a particularly happy part of my life, it was a part of my life. And saying goodbye to it is not so fun. But. I have a signed lease. Keys. And a car to help me move out tonight. So after a good mop of the floor tomorrow, I will bid my studio apartment adieu for a smaller, but cozier and better located 1 bedroom apartment. Pictures to come.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Moving, but not moving on
I'm nearing the anniversary of my move here to Spain (probably more on that later this week), and as a result, I have to move out of my apartment. The leases for this building were intended to be only for a year at a time, so on Tuesday I'm signing a lease for my new apartment.
First, the good part. This new apartment is in an ideal location. It's the perfect size for me (small), and is in good shape with nice landlords, etc. Hopefully, within a week or so, I'll have a more functioning internet system than I do in this building, which will mean easier communications home. The bad part? I have to pack up my stuff, and it's not for a move back to the US. I always knew this was a possibility, but I had really, really hoped I'd be heading home around now. Or at least have a more solid plan for next year. I'm working hard on a few options to get me back to the States this summer, but nothing is in place yet. And as everyone knows, I am not good at living a life in flux. I really want a plan. Yesterday. But, for now, I'm packing up and moving on. Knowing the next time I do it will be for home. And that's a good feeling I can hold on to for a while.
First, the good part. This new apartment is in an ideal location. It's the perfect size for me (small), and is in good shape with nice landlords, etc. Hopefully, within a week or so, I'll have a more functioning internet system than I do in this building, which will mean easier communications home. The bad part? I have to pack up my stuff, and it's not for a move back to the US. I always knew this was a possibility, but I had really, really hoped I'd be heading home around now. Or at least have a more solid plan for next year. I'm working hard on a few options to get me back to the States this summer, but nothing is in place yet. And as everyone knows, I am not good at living a life in flux. I really want a plan. Yesterday. But, for now, I'm packing up and moving on. Knowing the next time I do it will be for home. And that's a good feeling I can hold on to for a while.
Monday, March 26, 2012
A funeral, a sprained ankle, a sick kitty, and 11000 miles
This week was unbelievably, incredibly long. And I am unbelievably, incredibly exhausted and on a plane with 6 hours to kill before I land in Frankfurt.
Here is my list of laments for the week, followed by some attempt at a little joy to counterbalance the laments:
- The whole reason I flew back was for my grandma's funeral. Under the best circumstances, funerals are a huge drag, but this one hit me hard, like a punch in the stomach. It was partially jet lag, partially the last minute planning (which I am not a huge fan of), and mostly the fact that even though I've been trying to prepare for this for at least 10 months, I was woefully, woefully not prepared. I am amazingly lucky that I made it to 29 with all of my grandparents around, that all of them came to my wedding, and that they all have had such a great impact in my life. But it felt like a punch in the stomach for two straight days.
- Upon returning to Chicago, we discovered our cat w really, really sick. After a number of phone calls and emails, we discovered it was a kidney infection, requiring a doubling in the number and frequency of her usual daily meds. Which Pete has to do on his own since I'm heading back to Europe now.
- When we discovered poor sick kitty, I decided to try to coax her down the stairs. Backwards. Then I started to turn. And managed to step sideways on my ankle. Really sideways. Ad my ankle ended up being about the size of a tennis ball in 3 minutes. A little ice, a little elevation ... And a doctor's visit the next day, diagnosed me with a "moderate sprain" and has landed me with a still swollen, incredibly bruised, sore ankle.
- I'm still not sure where I'm living in two weeks or what my life is going to look like in 3 months. No stress there at all.
But in happier news,
- I have wifi on my plane. And in seat entertainment. And an empty seat next to me to prop my foot up on.
- I have some ideas and plans for how my life might look in a few months. And have been assured by the amazing people I know and love in Spain that I will not be homeless.
- I have visitors in 4 days! And might be traveling in a week and a half.
- I got to celebrate my grandma's life, with my family, and had a few stolen moments with my parents and with Pete, that are nothing less than a gift. So I'm grateful for that.
And honestly, I would take ten plane trips across the ocean in a week ... I would lose days of sleep ... I would twist my ankle ... Deal with all of the stuff so I could be with my family for the moments this week. So that's, that.
Tomorrow will be back to regularly scheduled drama, complete with exhaustion, house hunting in Spanish, and all the other usual my-crazy-Spanish-life business.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Here is my list of laments for the week, followed by some attempt at a little joy to counterbalance the laments:
- The whole reason I flew back was for my grandma's funeral. Under the best circumstances, funerals are a huge drag, but this one hit me hard, like a punch in the stomach. It was partially jet lag, partially the last minute planning (which I am not a huge fan of), and mostly the fact that even though I've been trying to prepare for this for at least 10 months, I was woefully, woefully not prepared. I am amazingly lucky that I made it to 29 with all of my grandparents around, that all of them came to my wedding, and that they all have had such a great impact in my life. But it felt like a punch in the stomach for two straight days.
- Upon returning to Chicago, we discovered our cat w really, really sick. After a number of phone calls and emails, we discovered it was a kidney infection, requiring a doubling in the number and frequency of her usual daily meds. Which Pete has to do on his own since I'm heading back to Europe now.
- When we discovered poor sick kitty, I decided to try to coax her down the stairs. Backwards. Then I started to turn. And managed to step sideways on my ankle. Really sideways. Ad my ankle ended up being about the size of a tennis ball in 3 minutes. A little ice, a little elevation ... And a doctor's visit the next day, diagnosed me with a "moderate sprain" and has landed me with a still swollen, incredibly bruised, sore ankle.
- I'm still not sure where I'm living in two weeks or what my life is going to look like in 3 months. No stress there at all.
But in happier news,
- I have wifi on my plane. And in seat entertainment. And an empty seat next to me to prop my foot up on.
- I have some ideas and plans for how my life might look in a few months. And have been assured by the amazing people I know and love in Spain that I will not be homeless.
- I have visitors in 4 days! And might be traveling in a week and a half.
- I got to celebrate my grandma's life, with my family, and had a few stolen moments with my parents and with Pete, that are nothing less than a gift. So I'm grateful for that.
And honestly, I would take ten plane trips across the ocean in a week ... I would lose days of sleep ... I would twist my ankle ... Deal with all of the stuff so I could be with my family for the moments this week. So that's, that.
Tomorrow will be back to regularly scheduled drama, complete with exhaustion, house hunting in Spanish, and all the other usual my-crazy-Spanish-life business.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:30000 feet in the air
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Home again, home again
I flew back from Chicago on Monday, and am heading back to the US now (Saturday). I wasn't planning this, but hopefully, it will kick me in the pants to post a little more.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:Somewhere over the Atlantic ....
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
I dream in Spanish.
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.
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.
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.
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