Excerpts from Gina Lutz’s Letters from Càceres, Spain:

Preconceived ideas about Spain: I got my very first impressions about Spain from Hemingway novels, like The Sun Also Rises and For Whom The Bell Tolls. This was unfortunate for two reasons1) these are works of fiction set in another time, another Spain, and 2) impressions of these kinds (those derived from literature) are exactly what Jake, the main character in The Sun Also Rises, warns against and detests. So, in a way, I have betrayed Hemingway by believing his novels. Hmm, how very appropriate....
However, I was intrigued by Hemingway’s Spain and the lifestyle that it afforded his expatriate characters. In the summer of ‘01 I visited Spain and traveled there for two weeks with a friend who had studied there. It was from him that I got my first solid ideas about modern Spain. It was still a romanticized picture, because he was completely in love with the country. I did get to fulfill the fantasy implanted in my brain by Hemingway when we ran with the bulls in Pamplona during San Fermins. That trip and my friend’s experiences spurred my decision to study abroad in Spain. I chose Càceres over Madrid because it was a smaller university town, and the university had a good reputation. I had gathered that Spain was, above all, fun. It also seemed to be a place where that people were very inviting and very relaxed.

Language anxiety: My biggest apprehensions were all related to the language barrier. I am bad with foreign languages. Although I have been studying Spanish since 7th grade, my language skills went into a state of paralysis when I visited Spain before and pretty much in every practical situation in which I could have used them. I knew that this would be a situation in which I would HAVE TO talk and I hoped that when it came to sink or swim I wouldn’t drown. However, I was bothered by the fact that I would be reduced to the vocabulary of a 3yr old (at first, at least). I wondered how I would be able to convey any sort of personality when my means of communication were so restricted. In fact, it HAS been difficult to converse and communicate with people, but it has been more difficult to communicate with some people than with others. My family has been really great and very patient, but there have been a few people that make me feel like a total twit. These people seem to think that we can only think as well as we can speak. In general, women here are easier to understand because they tend to talk to you rather than at you. Therefore, they realize when you don’t understand and they slow down. Many men just keep repeating themselves without changing a thing. I guess it just depends on how patient a person is feeling…

Meeting people: One thing that I did not think about was meeting people. I just thought that it would happen. It is fairly easy to meet guys in the plaza and bars on the weekends, but harder during the sober and somber hours of the week. There is also the matter of what kind of people you want to meet. Bars etc. are usually not places where one goes to meet quality people. The people who approach are more often than not greasy guys who like blondes. School has not proven itself to be the venue that I thought it might be. I have met some nice people, and I am still hopeful that I will meet others.

Language fatigue: At first, it seemed like every little thing I had to do or say required an extra effort. (there is a great phrase in Spanish for this, me cuesta mucho, which literally means, “it costs me a lot.” but really translates to “it is hard for me”). It made living in a different culture seem perpetually exhausting. I was plagued with questions of “How do I say that?” about every little thing— I wanted to kick myself for being so ignorant. I won’t even get into the topic of my accent… These were my first major impressions of culture; I was peeking at it from behind a big wall with “language barrier” spray-painted on it. Now, I still find that I do not know the simplest of words, but I have the kind of basic vocabulary that you need for every day.

Meddling madres: One thing becomes apparent in family situations; Spanish mothers like to get into your business. For instance, one of my friends almost went insane one time because her madre kept trying to instruct her on how to make hot chocolate by yelling at her that she was doing it wrong every 5 seconds (including while she was microwaving). Spanish madres also don’t have the same sensitivity about weight that Americans do. They are pretty obsessed with weight; they will tell you that you are going to get fat or you look fat in a picture without hesitation. This bothers some of the women in my group, but I think that this attitude is healthier. Anything that can’t be talked about is dangerous. Also on the subject of food and health, the Spanish have a somewhat skewed idea of what is healthy or low in fat. Everyone in the program has been in these situations and has had to suffer in silence; there is really no point in arguing, because Spanish madres are always right...

Spanish humor: Once I was beyond the worst of the language barrier, Spanish humor was the next thing to really baffle me. So much of it is contextual and I don’t get it, but I think it is more that that. Another American friend and I have a theory that the Spanish are not as silly as we are.

My coping strategies: WAIT: Most of the bewilderments or misunderstandings unravel themselves in time. Either the Spaniard or I usually realizes why the other acted the way they did or said what they said.
LISTEN: If something feels really wrong, like a hand on your butt or a really hurtful comment by your madre, let the person know what you are thinking.
FORGET your embarrassing moments (but not what you learned from them). Always be polite, but don’t worry so much if you really make a fool out of yourself.