Lessons Learned

Experiential Learning Blog 7:

I despise this question of what I would do differently if I studied abroad all over again because I feel as if it takes away from the real lesson learned: that we can live life to its fullest no matter where we are, but time goes on and we must make mistakes. Moving into a house full of strangers, barely able to speak the language, is so uncomfortable within itself that I could have been two doors down from home and felt like a foreigner. I could say that I would be more outgoing, that I would stop my señora from what she was doing and make her talk to me... But I didn't. And if somehow I could redo my first study-abroad experience, I wouldn't do anything differently. 

That isn't to say that I did everything perfectly. Knowing that I only had three months to do everything I wanted to do in Sevilla and in my travels was incredibly overwhelming. It filled every free moment with pressure that I should be spending my time here or there. When I wanted to stay in at night I had to weigh the guilt into my decision. But after a while, all I really wanted was to feel comfortable doing nothing. I wanted to spend an evening talking to the friends I've made- American and Spanish- without feeling like I wasn't taking advantage of being in a different country. And what I learned is that doing exactly that was taking advantage for me.  Sevilla began to feel like home, and the friends I made I have missed every day since I left. 

 

 So whatever I did during my experience, however I dealt with all the challenges and struggles that I expected and those I did not, whatever made me fall in love with Sevilla the way I did, I wouldn't trade for any other experience, because it was mine.

Cultural Icons

Experiential Learning Blog 6:

NO8DO is Sevilla's motto. Walking down the street, you will see it written on newspaper stands, manhole covers, buildings and souvenirs sold in kiosks. I didn't find out the meaning of this motto until a few weeks ago, but it may have been for the better, since when I did learn it, it meant so much to me.

The symbol in the center represents a knot of wool, called madeja in Spanish. With the knot (reminiscent also of the infinity symbol) in between NO and DO, Sevilla's emblem signifies "No me ha dehado," meaning "She has not left me." This little cultural gem describes perfectly the sentiment that is Sevilla. Sevillanos are born in Sevilla and stay in Sevilla. They don't say they are from Spain or that they are Spanish, they say they are from Sevilla. I know that when I return to the Bay Area and to Allegheny, Sevilla will never leave me. The experiences I have had and the relationships I have made with the kind people that live here (and stay here!) will always be a part of me.

Global and Local

Experiential Learning Blog 5:

I agree in many ways with what McKay Jenkins has to say in his article "Why I'm Not Preparing My Students to Compete in the Global Marketplace." He touches on the dangers of imperialism, which always poses a threat in light of this globalization that faces us today. If we are too quick to focus our attention overseas, to problems in foreign countries, we are making a quiet assumption that they are graver than those which contaminate our own backyards (literally and figuratively speaking).
Something I've learned from living abroad for these last months is how difficult it truly is to integrate into a new culture. The transformation from being an outsider looking in, to becoming a part of a community and understanding the sentiment behind even the slightest gesture, is wonderfully challenging. It is also, I've learned, incredibly crucial. To understand the problems that face a society, one first must understand the people within it, and how they view the problems they face. To simply possess an academic understanding of, say, the effects of deforestation in Southeast Asia does absolutely nothing in light of this problem without some level of cultural understanding.

As a philosophy major interested in social welfare, I chose health care and Social Security as the topic of my final paper in Spanish Society class. Spain has one of the most universal health care systems in the world, even providing free healthcare to tourists and undocumented immigrants in Spain. Well, amongst the economic crisis that this country is facing today, Spain's Popular Party decided to change this law, requiring immigrants to pay for health care (with a few exceptions). Nevertheless, hundreds of doctors, and six out of 17 regions of Spain, pledged to ignore this new law and continue to provide health care to immigrants despite any lack of documentation. To an onlooker, this might seem crazy, considering Spain's economic struggle today. For me, this reaction is so obvious in light of the culture I have become to understand little by little. Nearly everyone in Spain is being affected by the economic crisis, especially in Andalucía which as a southern region is poorest of all. Despite these circumstances, I continue to see people helping other members of the community that are even the slightest worse-off economically or just the same. There is an ideology deeply rooted in Spanish culture that creates a connection between people, and this connection thrives despite what the government determines as law.

Thus, learning to "compete in the global marketplace" is not so helpful after all, since more importantly we must learn how to understand each other as people.

Reading Difference

Experiential Learning Blog 4:

"Golbal citizenship" is certainly a phrase getting thrown around these days, as our international relations become more complex, and are boarders less rigid, every day. In Michael Byers' article, he breaks down the various definitions that 'global citizenship' can exhibit. In doing so, he demonstrates the many ways in which one can interpret global citizenship and thus how to be a global citizen. In a world driven by economic factors, it is often that corporations (and therefore people) forget what it means to be a citizen of the world. Byers points out that "citizenship is as much about obligations as it is about rights" and gives examples such as "to pay taxes, to serve in the military, to obey laws and respect authority." For me, the obligation of a citizen, local and beyond, is to create a community in which every member has access to well-being, since we all depend on each other no matter our economic position.

Byers concludes his article with the notion that we must develop our own ideas about what it means to be a global citizen, in order to converse and debate the meaning of global citizenship and avoid the ideas put forth by often class-priviliged individuals. By partaking in such a discussion, one is already exhibiting characteristics of a global citizen, by considering the implications of the term and the consequences of such implications. In doing so, one communicates with other members of his or her community, or better yet, with people from different cultural backgrounds. During my travels this semester, I am constantly meeting young individuals doing exactly this kind of work on a personal level. Interacting with other travelers from all around the world, these travelers are having conversations in which they would be unable to partake with citizens of their own nations. These conversations are building relationships on a small scale between members of many different communities. By hearing different perspectives, listening to different ideas about our world´s experiences, travelers bring home a broader understanding of what it means to be a member of the global community, and that of many different local communities. This is exactly the kind of personal experience we should embark on in order to develop qualities of a global citizen and thus create a better world.

Memories are funny

Memories are strange. They are at the same time so irrelevant and so crucial to every passing moment. Memories are made every second, and lost just the same. And sometimes they come back, like magic, into a moment in which you are a different person, time gone by. Yes, memories are strange.

They are especially strange being created and forgotten in another country. I wandered through the streets of Sevilla after class today, which is easy to do since the roads make this city a maze, and I found myself under Metropol Parasol, or las Setas (mushrooms), the largest wooden structure in the world. The first time I saw this grand architecture was my first night in Sevilla (a great adventure in itself). I was with two new friends, one in my program and a girl in another whom she met on her flight here, and a Spanish guy leading a hostel pub crawl that took us along. After a local's tour of Sevilla's Wednesday-night life (and don't let the American idea of Wednesday night fool you-- the summer streets were quite alive), we suddenly emerged underneath these huge wooden parasols, beautifully lit. I thought back today, as I sat underneath their shade, how long ago that moment now feels. While I won't dare say I remember how I felt then, I have this vague memory of this feeling of astonishment and joy. That night, las setas were a discovery, a surprise. Sitting under them today, knowing exactly where I was situated in Sevilla, in relation to my classes and my homestay and my favorite bakeries and bars and parks, las setas took on a whole new meaning in my life.

Metropol Parasol is back there behind my goofy friend Elysia

I ascended to the top of the mushrooms one night with friends for one of the best views of the city

I continued to walk, and like I was reading a scrapbook, I would pass one place after another that brought back moments from the past. I walked by a little cafe that I have never entered, but in which has the smallest men's bathroom one may ever experience; I know this because I was walking around Sevilla with two Germans I met in Cádiz who needed to use the restroom, and upon leaving couldn't stop laughing hysterically for minutes. I passed a vending machine that sells candy, beer, and waffles that I have walked by many times with different friends, almost always noting its incredible and hilarious service. Around every corner of the streets that always seem to stump me with their labyrinth-like qualities presented something that sparked a memory of my time here these past months. 
Maybe I was having a particularly nostalgic day, trying always to somehow comprehend the fact that I am living in Spain. It's coincidence that today marks the one-month-left, as my departure from this temporary home that is Sevilla is set for high-noon on December 12th. With a ticking clock, every day includes great expectations. I can barely get a hold on all the experiences I'm having; how can I possibly retain all the memories I want? I'm striving to engrave each one into my brain like Spanish grammar, but they are flying at me at light-speed. It is scary to think that even the slightest detail of this adventure will be forgotten, and for this I am clutching onto each moment, studying my emotions and surroundings like vocabulary on a test. Without these sunny walks filled with images that remind me of the snippets of my experience abroad, what will spark these fantastic memories and remind me of all I have learned? These are intimidating thoughts. I often want to go home just to be able to absorb all of this. But one thing is true, which I must remember during my clenching of time: each memory-- whether it live at the tip of my tongue or in the depths of my heart, or whether it slip by, forgotten forever-- every single moment has changed my experience, and every one has changed me.

Deconstructing Privilege

Experiential Learning Blog 3:

I definitely agree that the opportunity to study abroad is a privilege, and one that many young people around the world do not have. Upon my arrival in Sevilla, I experienced much of the same disillusion that Talya Zemach-Bersin describes in her article. I had gone from traveling around Europe freely for two weeks to a bus full of Americans being shuttled from one Spanish monument to the next, and all the while I felt ridiculous. I embarked on my study abroad journey to understand a different culture, speaking the language and immersing in daily life; to my disappointment, I was touring Sevilla through the windows of a bus, full of English-speaking students who for the most part weren't even listening to the tour guide. This was a slap-in-the-face of how privileged of a group we were, and an early sign of the difficulties of immersion that were to come.

The students in my program all come from private universities in the states. Within days we were all planning weekend trips around Spain and Europe, able to afford such luxuries; the economic privilege was obvious from Day One. But as we began our cultural realities classes, learning about Spanish culture in a classroom setting, it amazed me how much our privileges as Americans were influencing our interpretations of life in Spain. There are stereotypes about Americans, as with any group of people, that I was aware of before beginning my study abroad, and more that I've learned along the way. It surprised me how many of these stereotypes were being confirmed by our group, and how little effort we put in to preventing such affirmation. Our privilege is so deeply engrained that often it is nearly impossible to grasp.

However, while I do agree that we are incredibly privileged to be studying overseas and experiencing other cultures in the way that we are, I do not agree with Zemach-Bersin's statement that we can never be citizens of the world. I think it takes incredible humility and awareness to be able to step away from one's own culture to interpret another without such ignorance and separation that she (rightfully) criticizes. However, being a global citizen is not about "blending in" perfectly with every culture; it is about empathy and letting go of one's judgements about another culture based on one's own cultural standards. Zemach-Bersin's criticism falls into the same trap she is criticizing, by separating the American experience from those of another nationality's; we all face differences, some much greater than others. Privileged as we are, Americans studying abroad have the chance to appreciate the differences we all experience as citizens of the world.

TEXT: "American Students Abroad Can't Be 'Global Citizens'" From the issue dated March 7, 2008 By TALYA ZEMACH-BERSIN

Language between friends

I watched this videos in my listening class during my first week in Sevilla. Cruzcampo is the prized beer of Andalucía, and you'd be a crazy Sevillano not to like it. The commercial shows many of Andalucía's delicacies until the end, when the dramatic voiceover says, "Cruzcampo: made of Andalucía." If you watch, you'll see a pretty Spanish girl holding a sign (colorado means colored, not referring to the state), and she covers the D. The Andalucían accent, luckily for us American students, is not only fast but also eats the D's and S's at the end of a word. During this chalkboard moment, the narrator exclaims that this way of speaking is 'not an accent-- it's a language between friends.'

I was walking home from tapas with my friend this afternoon, about to point out that I was jealous of the accent a woman in passing had, and that I agreed with our friend who had said the other day that he wants the Andaluz accent, despite the fact that outside of Spain he wouldn't be easily understood. Before I could point out my envy, I thought about this commercial and suddenly understood the profundity of Cruzcampo's marketing strategy. Despite their wanting to sell beer, Cruzcampo really hit the small head of a big nail. Upon arriving in Sevilla, I was overwhelmingly trying to pick up on any word I could understand, often returning friendly conversation with confused glares. Slowly as my Spanish improved, I became more excited each day to actually converse with locals and better understand the culture. But I have recently realized, it is not only the words in a language that create a culture; the way in which members of a community communicate is incredibly forceful in shaping the relationships we have with one another and thus the way we choose to live our lives. There is so much more to language than words.