I think the dark hair, brown eyes and semi-dark complexion definitely aided me in this accomplishment, but my dream came true: I was mistaken for a Sevillano.
As I was walking to a store after my class had ended for the day, a man, clearly in a rush, came running up to me asking me for directions to a certain street in fast Spanish. I then pointed the opposite direction and said it was that way, appearing very confident.
Did I actually know where that street was? Absolutely not. But it is all about baby steps while living in a foreign country.
Over the weekend I had the opportunity to meet some of my host mother’s family. I had afternoon tea with her sister, one of her daughters and granddaughter.
I felt like I was having a family reunion of my own because of how welcoming they were.
Valme, the granddaughter, is 13 years old and speaks a little English from what she has learned in school, so it was refreshing to be understood between my broken Spanish and her broken English.
I asked her at one point if she thought I looked like I was Spanish. She said “más o menos” (more or less), and I was happy with that response, to say the least.
Although there are many cultural differences that conflict between Spain and the United States, we are all determined, hardworking people.
I was walking through one of the main plazas, Plaza Nueva, on my way home for the day and next thing I know, I was part of a women’s rights protest.
Nearly 200 people dressed in purple, the color of domestic violence, circled around a giant purple ribbon, blew whistles and chanted phrases like “Basta de violencias machistas” (no more sexist violence).
I was so relieved to see this kind of activism in a country other than my own.
When I think of protests and things related to social justice, I automatically picture Washington, D. C., and my ability to express myself and my issues freely as an American citizen.
I would never have pictured this type of activism in a country that is still ruled by a monarchy. I am very glad, however, that my perception was so wrong.
When this week concludes, I will start my actual classes for the duration of the semester. Each class involves me going out into the community and finding the stories that have yet to be told.
With a foreign perspective, I may be seeing things for the first time that are considered the norm here. Nevertheless, if the story deserves to be told, it will get the attention it rightfully deserves.
Study abroad from my perspective is all about asking questions: asking my host mother, asking my professors, asking my friends, asking the waiter at my favorite café.
There is no way to both learn the language and learn the culture all in one, other than to be constantly wondering about the world you.
I am only a resident of Spain for a finite amount of time. I need to get every possible question in when I have the chance.
afmaling@indiana.edu @aly_mali
