Doesn't get any more delicious than that...

When I told my host family a few weeks ago that I had booked a trip to Belgium, the first thing that they said to me was “Why Belgium?” It’s not like it’s a massively popular tourist destination. The weather is less than friendly, they don’t speak English or Spanish, and though there are a few well-known monuments and museums, it’s not a common vacation destination, especially during the rainy/snowy period of the year when the weather doesn’t know if it wants to be winter or spring. In fact, up until I got there, I was pretty unsure about it myself.

The reason I chose to go to Belgium is because my grandma’s two brothers live there with their wives, kids, and grandkids. 7 years ago, the Belgian side of the family came out to the States for a summer, and we got along fantastically. However, there are some pretty extreme language barriers between myself and these members of my family. They speak primarily French and Italian (because they’re from Sicily), and when they came to visit Chicago, my mom was able to translate for me. This time, I was on my own and was super nervous that the trip was going to be a complete flop because of communication problems.

The Butte du Lion at Waterloo. 241 steps to the top... climbed them all!

The Cathedral of Saint Michel, in Brussels

How very wrong I was. The freezing temperatures and sleet did nothing to dampen the true joy that comes with family reunions, and despite the fact that the language barrier was at times frustrating, communication was possible through a combination of English, Spanish, French, Italian, and laughter.

During my four days in Belgium, I got to experience a whirlwind of Belgian “must-do” activities with my cousins. Among these were sightseeing in Brussels, visiting Waterloo (the site of the battle where Napoleon’s army fell), seeing the famous Atomium from the 1958 world expo, and of course indulging in the Belgian food staples: french fries, beer, chocolate, and waffles. Definitely wasn’t a health trip, but every calorie was well worth it!

My favorite part of sightseeing during my little excursion to Belgium, however, was the day trip to Brugge. About an hour drive from Brussels, Brugge is a popular tourist destination because of its beautifully preserved medieval architecture and its “Venice of Nord” charm (there are 16 kilometers of canals running through the city.) It’s like stepping back into the middle ages, and is one of those cities that you can easily just choose to get lost in. The architecture of Belgium as a whole (not just Brugge) is very different than that of Spain – beautiful in its own way. Each building is distinct, and I fell in love with the way that they all are squished up against one another.

The beautiful city of Brugge

My cousin and I

As wonderful as sightseeing was, the best part about being in Belgium was easily reconnecting with my family. Enjoying homemade Italian meals together, playing card games, Skyping with family from the States, looking at old photo albums, even simply sitting around and chatting (as difficult as it sometimes was!) – all of those elements together gave me the priceless gift of many memories that helped to eliminate the “homesickness blues” and that will last for a lifetime.

Among the many things that I’m learning about myself and about the world around me while I’m in Europe, one of the common threads that I continue to reflect upon is the value of deep relationships. Whether it’s my immediate family, my extended family, my friends both near and far, or my host family, I’ve really seen what a gift it is to have so many different loving and supportive people in my life. It’s a beautiful thing to be able to have loved ones all across the globe, and I consider myself incredibly blessed to be able to experience the joy of connecting once again with my European relatives. (For Easter, I’ll be going to England to visit another set of cousins, along with my godmother, who I haven’t seen in 12 years! So excited to experience another reconnection!) In a perfect world, I’d pack them all in my suitcase and bring them back to the States with me in May. But I’ve gotten to enjoy the next best thing, and can confidently say that this unique blessing is one of the most wonderful parts about my European experience as a whole.

Being abroad is, in concrete terms, a complete whirlwind of experiences and emotions. One minute, you’re unstoppable – the sun is shining and the world is at your feet, tempting you with promises of adventures not yet had. The next minute, you want nothing more than a Chicago-style pizza, a plate of your grandma’s chocolate chip cookies, and a lazy afternoon at home watching movies with your parents and siblings. Nostalgia happens differently for everyone, and especially for someone like me who has a tendency to get homesick, I have no greater gift out here than that of my Spanish host family.

Families walking hand in hand around Zaragoza

The host family experience is a very unique thing. It takes a certain specific personality type to be able to welcome a complete stranger into your home, to share your life/lives with that stranger, and to say from the start with real meaning, “You’re a member of our family now.” It’s very humbling, and has given me the opportunity to have a different kind of familiar bond/living situation than I’ve ever had before. I’ve heard both horror stories and success stories about host families, and I couldn’t be more grateful to be able to brag about what a wonderful fit I have in mine.

The Spanish are known to be very warm, hospitable, and family-oriented people. Things like eating daily meals around the table together or living within the same vicinity as grandparents and other extended relations are of high importance in Spanish civilization, and evidence of the strong family bonds that exist within this society are visible everywhere you go. It’s not unusual to see daughters or granddaughters guiding their mothers down the street arm in arm, or to see sons, fathers, and grandfathers gathered together over a table at the bar. Couples are very affectionate (sometimes shamelessly so!) and children are often doted upon by their parents. In fact, it isn’t uncommon for children to live with their parents until they marry (and according to the Census Bureau, the average age for marriage in Spain among men is 31 and among women is 27.)

Couples, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, all ages...

Family is king here, and especially in a time where the government and the economy are laden with more corruption and bad news than I ever would have anticipated, it’s those bonds within families that hold Spain together as a primarily optimistic nation full of friendly faces and genuine kindness. Being submerged in such a close-knit culture, I’ve felt both humbled and honored to be welcomed so fully into my host family’s home. It’s the little things that make the apartment a cozy and welcoming place to live. Mini vocabulary/history lessons or talking sports with my host dad, daily tongue twisters and jokes with my host brother, the constant actions of motherly kindness and care that my wonderful host mom demonstrates – (she makes me coffee in the mornings, chases me out the door with a scarf when it’s cold, has the patience of a saint with my Spanish speaking abilities, scolds me when my room is messy, lets me pick what to have for dinner some days… you know, mom-type stuff.)

None of these daily occurrences are really out of the ordinary, but day by day, they change the environment from being a strange place to an adopted home away from home. And as time has passed, I’ve been able to make my own little place within the family, bringing simple elements of my home in the States to my Spanish family. For example, I made banana bread for them the other day, and I’ve never seen three people so excited to try a cake that took less than ten minutes to assemble. It’s those simple, culture-merging household memories that set the host family experience apart from all the other living environments I’ve ever (and probably will ever) experience – bridging gaps through the most basic and familiar daily occurrences and experiencing a friendship that’s cemented while chatting around the kitchen table or while watching a movie together in the living room.

Little by little, I’ve felt myself change from a stranger to an adopted part of the family, and it’s a wonderful feeling to have, especially on days when I’m feeling blue and am missing the people I love back home. When my host mom called me “mija” yesterday (a Spanish term of affection that means “my daughter”), my heart melted. I am so blessed to be experiencing firsthand what it means to really be a part of a family here in Spain.

Also. I tried taking a picture with my host family tonight, but they were camera-shy. I’ll be sure to get at least a few by the end of my semester!

Just a disclaimer: my inner history nerd may or may not emerge during the course of this post. Anyway, now that you’ve been warned…

Something that will continually fascinate me about Europe is just how OLD it is. As rich as North/South American history is, we were just a baby hemisphere in the 1700s when we were getting colonized and industrialized. In fact, compared to the Europeans, we’re still babies. I don’t mean this in the sense that we were devoid of civilization until the 1700s, because we weren’t. What I mean is that Europe, unlike the United States, is brimming with physical reminders of civilizations past – many of them dating back to centuries, even millennia before even the oldest buildings in the States were built.

Ruins of the Roman theater from the empire of Caesar Augustus.

I consider myself to be more than lucky to be living in a city where this phenomenon is so clearly represented. Zaragoza was founded by Caesar Augustus’ empire sometime between the years 25 and 12 BC as, essentially, a retirement village for war veterans. Throughout the centuries, the name of the city morphed from “Caesaraugusta” to “Saraqusta” (during the Moorish/Arab regime from about the 7th-11th centuries AD) to its current, more Spanish/Catholic name “Zaragoza.” The evolution of Zaragoza’s name is a really fantastic representation of how the city’s culture has also changed throughout time, and it gives me the chills to walk through the Roman ruins with the knowledge that once upon a time, 2000+ years ago, there were people just like me living here. In fact, history points to evidence that Saint James often walked along the banks of the Ebro river and lived in the Zaragoza area. (The landmark cathedral of Pilar, built in the 1400s, began as  a chapel/altar built by Saint James after an apparition of the Virgin Mary to him while he was praying by the river.) Call me cheesy, but it really does feel like I’m living in a time machine, or as close to one as I’ll ever get.

The Cathedral Pilar (left), built in the 1400s, on the banks of the Ebro River. It's evolved over time to the impressive building it is now, and began in the 1st century as a tiny chapel built by Saint James.

What’s cool about Zaragoza, though, is that much of its architecture points ahead to the future as well as back to its roots in the past. In 2008, the city hosted the World Expo, which was built around the theme of water and sustainable development. The Expo itself was something of a flop, and didn’t generate as much income for the city as was expected. It did, however, provide Zaragoza with some fascinating examples of modern and futuristic architecture that amplify my little “time machine” mentality even more. In fact, my favorite bridge is named “The Bridge of the Third Millennium”. This city is rooted in a fascinating history, and looks to the future with anticipation. To me, that’s a really cool and very unique juxtaposition.

"The Bridge of the Third Millennium", constructed for the 2008 World Expo.

Los Americanos exploring the Roman ruins!

There aren’t many ways I can describe it accurately and in a way that does it justice, but the fact that evidence from the Roman empire sits on the same riverbank as examples of futuristic engineering is a concept that is endlessly fascinating to me and gives me the goosebumps to think about. It’s something that is unique to Europe (and in this case, specifically to Zaragoza), and sort of serves as a connection to the ever-changing effects of time. No, I can’t go back to the Roman empire, the age of the Crusades, or the Medieval Rebirth. I can’t go back to the Spanish Civil War, and I can’t venture into the third millennium. But exploring all that this city has to offer is a pretty good way to come close.

The past week has been a little lighter on adventures than my last few weeks have been, at least in the usual sense of the word “adventure”. The weather out here’s been somewhat dreary, and along with that, there have been a few days where my mood has been equally so. It’s gotten to that point where things aren’t as fresh and extraordinary as they were when I first arrived, and I feel as though I’ve found my niche among the day-to-day comings and goings of city life. As great as that is, it also means that I’ve been a little restless, especially on those days when the weather isn’t as great as I would hope and puts limits on my ability to get out and explore.

On one of my “downer” days, I was talking to my parents, and they offered me a piece of advice that I think may stick with me for the rest of my life. Not every day is going to be busy, and not every day is going to be full of fantastical journeys that will rock my world. In fact, sometimes (as is the case with this past week), there will be stretches of time where things couldn’t get any more “normal.” But there are small adventures waiting to be had everywhere you go, and if you seek them out, you’ll find that an afternoon spent having a less conventional adventure may be just as valuable and memorable as an exciting trip or a breathtaking cultural experience.

One of the more eclectic coffee shops I've discovered here, about a 10 minute walk from my apartment.

Take, for example, the abundance of coffee shops here in Zaragoza. You find one on every corner, each with a different ambiance and sense of character. Some have bars, some have extensive bakeries, some serve food, some are modern and some are more eclectic. On the days when I’m sick of bumming around the apartment, I’ll call one of my friends, we’ll meet up at an intersection, and we’ll pick out a new coffee shop to try out. Like tonight, for example, one of my local Spanish friends met up with me to have an “intercambio” chat – he’s learning English and wanted someone to practice with. So he spoke mostly in English and I in Spanish, and we helped one another with some of the trickier parts of our respective native languages. And if I can’t get a hold of anyone to meet with, I’ll grab a book (if I’m feeling really ambitious, I’ll take one of my host brother’s books and attempt to read in Spanish) and spend an afternoon reading, enjoying being surrounded by music and conversation and the smells of coffee and bread. Granted, these coffee shop escapades are not daring excursions or incredible parties, but spending time exploring them is a memorable little experience nonetheless – one that I know I will probably miss once I get back to the States. An adventure in itself.

Part of a mosaic that used to be part of the street during the time when the Roman Empire ruled Zaragoza. My favorite piece in the Museo de Zaragoza.

However, there are days when I’m craving a little bit more of an active experience, and when the weather is poor, it’s difficult to find those opportunities around town. It takes a little bit more effort on my part to encounter those experiences, but they’re usually worth the hunt (and sometimes that’s part of the adventure)! Nothing better than deciding to go shopping, and instead stumbling upon a free art museum that is absolutely packed with intriguing pieces from throughout the centuries. Who knew? I spent a good 2 and a half hours learning about art from the Roman Empire to the Gothic period to the days of Zaragoza’s native classic artist Francisco Goya, and chatting it up with the museum curator about my experiences thus far in Spain. It was one of my favorite days here, and the best part about it is that it was living proof of my parents’ advice to me. Adventure isn’t always going to jump up and hit you in the face. It’s all about perspective, and taking the initiative to enjoy the little things.

There are plenty of other opportunities here for spontaneous adventures and discoveries, they just aren’t as glaringly obvious as some of the other experiences I’ve had so far. Walking around the park and practicing Spanish with another international student. Window shopping. Shoot, I even consider my long-winded, all-Spanish customer service phone call with the train company to be a memorable experience. Granted, I’m going to be doing some of the more conventional adventure things as well – there are lots of “touristy” things that I really want to experience while I’m abroad! But the benefits of searching beneath the surface for my daily adventures are both memorable and enhancing to my overall experience of being part of the Spanish community, and hold a place in my heart that I’m sure I’ll remember years from now.

Nothing boosts your ego when you’re abroad quite like that moment when you’re walking home from the store and someone stops you to ask for directions. I know, this probably doesn’t sound like much of an accomplishment, and maybe I’m over-analyzing the

La Catedral Seo, which was breathtaking.

situation entirely. But in my mind, that must mean that I look like I know what I’m doing out here. And the fact that (after apologizing profusely for my broken Spanish) I was able to successfully guide the person to where they needed to go – I’d say that I walked a little bit taller the rest of the way home feeling like I have a place here in this city.

It’s almost been a month since my traveling companions and I arrived in Europe, and it’s pretty surreal to see how far we’ve all come since we were wandering around the Barcelona airport, aimlessly looking for our bus to Zaragoza and wondering how on earth we were ever going to be able to understand the rapid Spanish that we heard coming from the people around us. And yet here we are, able to communicate and finding ourselves walking the line between being tourists and being locals.

Through some trial and error, I’ve found that they key to this achievement has been to participate in “the little things” that are a part of daily Spanish life here. Going to a coffee shop to read the newspaper over a café con leche. Picking up the groceries for dinner from the supermarket. Taking public transportation. Going to a bar with some friends to watch FC Barcelona play against Real Madrid in the Copa Del Rey soccer tournament. And, of course, participating in local festivals and events.

Enjoying our Roscón de San Valero with a delicious thick hot chocolate made for dipping the cake into!

This past Tuesday was the Fiesta de San Valero (the Patron Saint of Zaragoza), and it was hands-down the best day I’ve had here so far. Around ten thousand people pack into the main Plaza in town at 10 AM to eat a piece of the Roscón de San Valero, a giant wreath-shaped cake that is made specifically for the holiday. Among that huge crowd of people was my little group of amigos and I, all international students hoping to engage in the kind of cultural experience that you can only get from participating in such a huge event. Aside from the delicious Roscón, the events of the day include an abundance of street musicians and bands, free access to historical buildings like the gorgeous Catedral Seo (pictured above), and the ever-anticipated parade of the Gigantes and the Cabezudos.

It’s pretty hard to miss this colorful procession. People pack into the street, and the kids climb onto their parents’ shoulders to better see these interesting traditional characters. Cabezudos are people dressed up in costumes with massive (somewhat frightening) heads. They chase the kids around the plaza, and are a big hit among the 5-10 year old crowd. (The kids who looked to be under 5 weren’t quite sure whether to be fascinated or terrified by them!) The Gigantes are massive puppets, probably 15 to 20 feet tall, that are carried down the street, flanked by musicians. There are about 8 of them, and they’re all different (a king, a queen, one that looks like Don Quijote, etc.).

The Cabezudos, and check out that crowd!

After seeing all the sights of the festival, we headed to a local bar to indulge in some delicious tapas and great conversation. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it, but it was such a fantastic way to end the day. There was just something about being part of the local celebration, followed by enjoying some local cuisine, that helped us to feel deeper immersed into the daily life and true culture of Spain. It’s those types of experiences – the little ones that have put me right in the middle of authentic Spanish living, that will stay in my heart long after I leave this incredible country. Consequently, it’s also those types of experiences that, little by little, help to transform Zaragoza from a tourist destination into a place that I’m glad to call “a home away from home”.

One of the main reasons I chose to study in Zaragoza was to have the unique opportunity to experience the richness of Spanish culture in the most direct way possible. However, I never in my wildest dreams thought that going to Spain would connect me not just to Spanish culture, but also to the lifestyles and traditions of so many other countries from around the world.

For starters, the class I’m in is made up of (easily) the most diverse group of people I’ve ever had the privilege of being in a classroom with. The nine of us (ten if you count my professor) come from all corners of the globe – Spain, Bosnia, China, Scotland, Gambia, Taiwan, Nigeria, Japan, and the United States. And that’s just within my class… I’ve made friends from other classes at my school from France, Ghana, England, Russia, and Jamaica. Therefore, the discussions that we have had in class about culture have been particularly rich in content. I’ve listened to Bosnian music, have sampled authentic sushi from a Japanese friend who made some especially to pass around at school, and have attempted to learn a few words here and there in French. It’s like an incredible double-shot of culture that couldn’t be more perfect: there’s nothing quite like enjoying a Spanish cup of coffee at a café with a friend from another country, talking about how the culture in Spain is both similar and different to our own lifestyles back home.

The men's handball team from Belarus huddles before their game against Saudi Arabia.

Yet another unique global experience that I’ve cherished immensely happened this past Saturday. My companions from Valpo and I decided to head to the Pabellón Príncipe Felipe (one of the athletic facilities in Zaragoza that was used during the 1992 Barcelona Summer Olympics) to watch the 2013 Men’s World Handball National Championship prelims. We saw three games total: Belarus vs. Saudi Arabia, Poland vs. South Korea, and Serbia vs. Slovenia. First of all, handball is an incredibly brutal sport. These guys have no pads and are ramming into each other and falling on the hard ground constantly – we were amazed by how intense it was! However, I think the best part of the experience was being surrounded by fans from all over the world. There were plenty of Spanish people in the crowd, but along with them were fans from each of the participating countries, decked out from head to toe in their respective colors, chanting and playing instruments and cheering for their home nation. Granted, it wasn’t a multicultural experience where I learned much about the different countries like I’ve been doing at school and through conversations with my friends. However, being (probably) the only Americans in the stadium, surrounded by such a colorful variety of different languages and cultural heritages was both humbling and exciting, and made the experience of watching this sport live so much more enriching.

There are so many little things around the world that don’t change, regardless of cultural norms or language barriers. I think that’s one of the things I’m learning with the most clarity out here, both in my connections to Spain and in my connections to the rest of the world, however tiny they might be. Things like sports, food, family, and a good sense of (culturally respectful!) humor can bring complete strangers together and erase the boundaries that are put up by distance and unfamiliarity. It’s a wonderful surprise to be experiencing so much global culture out here, and is only adding to the appreciation I have each day for the culture and knowledge that I’m acquiring in Spain.

This is probably going to sound incredibly obvious, but I feel like I’m living in a completely different world than the one that I’m used to. And yes, there are plenty of factors that contribute to that statement – the language (duh), the buildings on every block that are older than the United States, the cobblestone streets, the abundance of mopeds and tiny cars, or the laundry hanging from balconies to air dry. However, the biggest difference I’ve noticed between living in the U.S. and living in Spain is this crazy concept of the “Spanish Clock.”

Being born and raised in the fast-paced, “every second counts” American culture, living as a pseudo-Spaniard has come as an immense culture shock. I’m sure you’ve heard the stereotype that pokes fun at how the Spanish are never on time. That stereotype is true. On my first day of classes last week, my professor told us that she likes to sleep in, and will probably show up 15-20 minutes late to class on a daily basis. Like, no biggie. I just kind of show up when I want to.

As strange as that was, what I’ve found to be even stranger is the fact that the entire city shuts down at 1:30 pm to go to lunch. With the exception of some restaurants, every single business that I pass on my way home from school each day – from banks to pharmacies to clothing stores – has its doors locked up tight and its lights turned off. Kids get out of school at this time, too, only to return later in the afternoon. The busy streets clear out as people go home, traffic is nonexistent. To my American mind, it’s surreal – like every day at 1:30, someone turns off the power switch and doesn’t turn it back on until 4:30 or 5 pm.

Zaragoza comes back to life in the evening after taking a few hours of siesta time.

Another aspect of the Spanish clock that is still taking a lot of getting used to are the mealtimes. Lunch here doesn’t happen until between 2 and 3 pm. It’s the biggest meal of the day, and for my host family (and most families here), it’s the time of day when everyone in the house comes together around the table to catch up. After lunch, everyone takes a siesta – a nap/chill-out period ranging between an hour and three hours. The city comes back to life after that, and people go back out to run errands, go for a jog, or to get back to work for a few evening hours. Dinner is usually much smaller than lunch is, and is usually between 9:30 and 10 pm (I feel like I may never get used to how late that is!)

In the end, what I think it comes down to is that the Spanish live with different priorities than what we have in the United States. Time spent resting isn’t considered to be time wasted – in fact, it’s a crucial part of each day that’s built into the rhythm of even the most buzzing of Spanish cities. You don’t see anyone hustling to work with a to-go bag in their hands, or chugging a travel mug of coffee in the car. Instead, you see people sitting at cafes for hours, indulging in good conversation and good food, paying no attention to the thought of the work that awaits them back at the office. It’s definitely a different way of living, and although I don’t think I’ll return to the states with a “Spanish Clock” engrained in my mind, I’ll certainly take with me a valuable lesson about remembering to find some time each day to simply be peaceful.