The Honey Moon

I have officially been in Spain for 41 days.  During this time, I have gone from “honey moon phase” to “homesick phase” to currently waiting for the next phase of this crazy adventure to hit me. 

Honey moon phase was great.  I stepped into the grand city that is Sevilla and fell in love with everything Spanish.  And I mean EVERYTHING.  I ate octopus; loved it.  I ate toast for breakfast everyday; loved it.  I napped; loved it.  I stayed up until 6:00am.  I spoke Spanish.  I carried around 4 keys to get into my apartment.  I sat down and drank coffee.  I didn’t have internet access 24/7.   I walked around a lot.  97% of my meals came with meat.  Loved it, loved it, loved it. 

For those of you who don’t know me that well (Welcome Niceto readers!), I would not normally love any of the things above.  I would never eat Octopus in the States for fear of the suction cup things on the tentacles getting stuck to the walls of my trachea.  WHY DOESN’T SPAIN HAVE BAGELS?! My bedtime is normally 9:00pm.  I enjoy speaking English.  Four keys is a little much don’t ya think?  I prefer to carry and drink my coffee while walking.  I truly enjoy being able to use my phone whenever I want.  I hate exercise.  And I’m a vegetarian.

BUT DUH! I’M IN SPAIN. I LOVE EVERYTHING. OMG YAY SPAIN!

They weren’t lying when I was informed of this Honey Moon phase.  Two weeks in, and I was ready to sign up for another year in Spain. 

And then it hit.  The infamous homesickness.  And let me tell you, it hit hard. 

Now, I’ve been away from my family multiple times.  I travelled Europe for 3 weeks when I was 12 years old.  I went to sleep away camp for a few summers as a child for 2-3 weeks at a time.  I lived at college for four years.  I backpacked solo in Europe for a month.  Not once, with any of the things mentioned above, did I ever get homesick.  I was immune.  It couldn’t happen to me.  I love to travel.  Living in Europe is my dream.  Homesickness just wasn’t going to happen. 

But this homesickness made me the saddest, crankiest American girl EVER. 

My pants bothered me because they were too big because there was no stupid dryer to shrink them. 

All I wanted was a salad.  With ranch dressing.

“Que? Que? Repeat? Que? What? NO ENTIENDO” This learning Spanish thing was hopeless.

You mean, I actually have to gesture for my waiter to come to me? He doesn’t just come to the table?

Where are all of the spices??? How do people cook in Spain?

“Consumido el 100% de MB de tu tarifa.”  What? I just bought this plan a week ago? Recargar? Saldo? Meh.

I want to eat dinner at 5:00pm, not 10:00!

…

It’s crazy how quickly you go from the honey mood phase to the hate everything phase.  You go from dancing in the streets high on life to the bitterness you can only find in the workers at the DMV. 

Homesickness makes you do crazy things.  For starters, I cried a lot.  A wasp died.  I cried.  Actually I balled my eyes out.  I couldn’t open the door to my house.  I cried.  My phone wasn’t working. I cried.  I couldn’t find a specific kind of cheese I liked… you get the point.  It also made me really bitter about having to adapt to Spanish things.  Particularly the language.  I searched high and low for all things English.  I bought countless bars of Nestle chocolate because it was in English!  (Actually, I think its Swedish? Or some other country? But it’s definitely a brand from the States.)  I watched movies in English.  I read books, magazines, articles in English.  I even spoke to Spanish people who had no idea what I was saying in English. 

Homesickness absolutely accentuates all of the differences between Spain and American.  It makes you loathe all of things you now have to convert to.  For example: eating a HUGE lunch at 3:00 pm and a tiny dinner at 10:00pm.  Instead of your toilet having a flusher, you have to instead push a dumb circle button.  It’s in the upper 80’s here and the Spanish consider this cold.   The coffee tables are as tall as my stomach.  How am I supposed to watch TV laying down on the couch??  I have to teach 4^th graders an in-depth lesson on all of the muscle names in the human body.  I never even learned this in school!  I’m expected to talk at the same time someone else is talking.  And every other country in the world has a different name in Spanish that I’ve never even heard of before.  Why, I ask, why?  (Inglaterra-England, Irlandia- Ireland, Estados Unidos-United States, etc.) No, no, no, no, no. 

But thankfully, my abundance of Nestle Chocolate, some “Penguinos de Madagascar,” and seeing some old friends pulled me out of my homesickness funk.  I am happy to report that I no longer cry at the sight of a homeless cat walking the streets or at putting instant coffee in my mug everyday or at everything in the city being closed from 2-5 (my prime productive time).  I am back to happily being a teacher.  (Even if I still have to adjust to this new teaching style.)  I have a wonderful home.  Priego is beautiful.  And I think, I may even have a routine.