Okay, recovery time.
The majority of Spain has been easy, if not enjoyable, to get used to. The architecture, a blend of Renaissance and urban, is beautiful to walk through. The prevalence of public transportation means I can travel the city cheaply, conveniently, and safely. The people are friendly and treat me like I’m part of the community.
However, there are some aspects of living in Madrid that have been difficult to acclimatize to. The first is one I’ve spoken about frequently in my past blogs: speaking Spanish. I said that the people are friendly, but there is a caveat popped. That being I’ve had several encounters turn brusque or impatient once the other person realized they’ll need to speak English to help me understand.
The difficulty of constantly having to speak a second language permeates all aspects of life in Madrid. Choosing the food I want to order goes sideways when the cashier asks what kind of sauce I want. I can smoothly ask for directions in a store, but I can’t understand the actual directions. When I ask to use the bathroom, the employee saying anything besides, “Si,” and pointing immediately brings the conversation beyond my level of expertise. In sum, I can convincingly ask questions but can’t comprehend the answers.
Here’s me and a friend from another program!
Understanding Spanish is especially difficult when the environment external to the conversation is anything other than dead silence. If there’s a sports game, performance, or any other background noise such as in a restaurant or bar, I become completely unable a native’s Spanish. I’ve realized the difference is that I’m adept enough in English that I can piece together a sentence from hearing fragments of each word, but I need to hear the entirety of each word in a sentence to have a chance of understanding the other person.
I’ve had moderate success crossing the language barrier. I’ve found asking locals to speak more slowly sometimes solves the problem, although that doesn’t help when I simply don’t know the words they’re using. I don’t consider the conversation a success if the person had to switch to English to communicate although that’s what happens when someone other than a coworker realizes I don’t understand them. Generally, If I don’t immediately reply the discussion usually ends in English or one of us giving up and walking away.
Spanish Dictionary, the translate service, is a big help preparing for a conversation. If there are words I know I’ll need to use that I don’t have in my vocabulary I’ll look them up on SpanishDict and rehearse them in my head. Rather than putting in my headphones or zoning out I’ve also been trying to passively listen to the people around me at restaurants and on the metro. I’ve had some success, but I’m far from mastering the skill of isolating one conversation among many.
Here’s a Birthday Party for the grandchildren of my host mom! I came down to offer my assistance but was immediately stuffed with cake. I also got to meet some parents, and was even mistaken for one by the kids.
Another aspect of Spanish culture I’ve had a hard time getting used to is pork being everywhere. Almost every dish contains pork, from pasta, to empanadas, to sandwiches. Don’t even get me started on trying to order pizza. I distinctly remember asking the server one night with my companions if they offer aperitivos, the food that comes with drinks, without pork, The server looked at me with a puzzled expression and said, “don’t worry, it’s quite good.”
I forgot to mention that I’m Muslim and as such cannot eat any type of pork. This is why the commonality of pork is such an issue for me. There are even shops, often called “Jamoneria’s,” or with the word, “Iberico,” in the title, dedicated solely to selling raw pork cuts. This was a bit of a shock coming from the U.S, where you would find butcher’s shops selling a variety of meats rather than only types of pork.
I simply have to limit myself in terms of my culinary options a bit more than the average person to circumvent this problem. When I scroll through menus I examine the options carefully to ensure I’m not ordering something with pork. There have been a couple of times where I didn’t understand the ingredients and had to pass my order off to a friend or trade with them. It helps that several other students in the program also prefer to not eat pork, so we gravitate towards the same restaurants.
Lastly, the gym structure here is a bit different. This is quite noticeable as an avid weightlifter. The first aspect of gym culture that stands out to me is gyms are located in metro stations. This is the case for the gym I’ve elected to purchase a membership at in Madrid. This seems strange to me as the metro station does not have a pleasant view and working out there requires the usually well-dressed Spaniards to walk through a public thoroughfare in casual clothes.
The gym culture is also less organized. People don’t seem to have the same respect for someone using a machine. In the U.S, when someone is using a machine, others treat that machine as that person’s personal property. Here, other gym-goers lean on the same machine, take plates without asking, and even leave their things on another part of the machine. To get around this I simply ignore things that seem odd to me. Although there’s still quite a few aspects of Spanish life I need to learn, I’m determined as ever to experience everything there is!