En las calles de España: Mi familia de España

During the week in Madrid, I was really too busy to think about my host family or where I would be living, but I had plenty of time to worry about it on my five hour bus ride from Madrid to Granada. All I knew was that I have an "ama de la casa", which is basically a stay-at-home mom, a father who works in construction, and a 16-year-old brother.

It honestly is pretty hard to go into such an unknown environment. I didn't know what my family looks like, let alone what their personalities are or what their home is like. I apprehensively walked into the bus station with one of the program coordinators toward the group of parents and siblings, and almost immediately a woman came up to me and hugged me, recognizing me from the picture I sent the program. She introduced me to my host brother and is friend, and we were off!

Now, like I said in my last post, I was sadly mistaken to think I understood more Spanish. Antonia (the academic director who was with us in Madrid) was kind to us. I think I'm probably at about 10% comprehension. When they dumb it down and speak directly to me, I can at least get their meaning (usually), but holy cow. Andalucía, the region I am in, has a dialect commonly perceived to be the most difficult Spanish dialect to understand, so that doesn't help. Luckily, Juanpe, my host brother, speaks a tiny bit of English and is very clear when he simplifies his parents' Spanish for me, but he was not around on my first night with the family when I went to dinner with my host parents and met many of their friends. I met SO many people because, as I figured out with very broken down and direct instructions, we were going to a pueblo for the weekend to swim and relax. So, not 2 hours after getting to my new home (a nice piso, which is a larger apartment with 3 or 4 bedrooms and possibly multiple bathrooms), we left in their car for what I assumed was a resort of some kind. After 1/2 an hour of of driving, we drive through Campejar, which is not a resort, but literally a village (pueblo). We pull up to a white-washed, Spanish-roof house and go into what turns out to be my family's beautiful summer house. It baffles me that this house is about 4 times bigger than their piso in Granada, but it is much cooler (temperature-wise) in the pueblo than in the city. I spent my first evening in a hammock next to a little fountain with floating water lilies in their back courtyard (is this really my life?) and then we went out for tapas. It is definitely a humbling experience to know people are talking about and to you but not understanding most of it. My host mom has been great though, telling me the only word their last student knew on her first day was "gracias", and she spoke very well at the end of the semester. Whoever said you need a sense of humor to study abroad is correct- not only to be able to laugh at yourself, but to handle the unexpected events day-to-day. My first morning, when mi mamá led me to the kitchen for breakfast, she put out a box of Special K with chocolate and strawberries, pastries with a chocolate filling, a mug of milk heated in the microwave, chocolate powder, and a bowl of sugar. She left me to ponder in what manner I was supposed to combine these ingredients- make a very sweet hot chocolate? Eat cereal with hot milk? For a snack the day before she gave me chocolate milk and the same type of chocolate-filled croissant. Spaniards do really like their chocolate, but hopefully breakfasts in the future will have a bit less of it.