Culture Shock!: Morocco

Watch out, y'all -- Morocco is a crazy place!

I’m afraid I couldn’t contain this Culture Shock! to just one aspect of my Morocco trip — if you’ve ever been anywhere within a 50-mile radius of North Africa, you’ll understand there are FAR too many contenders for that singular award.

Let’s try a top five, shall we? And y’all can let me know if I’m forgetting anything.

1. Everybody is so damn … nice.

No offense to Spaniards, who still molan mucho, but I’ve never felt so welcomed anywhere as I did in Morocco. For the first two nights I stayed with a Moroccan woman named Aoufiya, who insisted we eat mountains of couscous, take afternoon naps (… in her bed) and gave us her address at the end of the stay — with strict instructions that we were to call her and stay with her if we ever came back to Rabat. Outside of the homestay, old ladies and little kids stopped us on the street to say hello, welcome or whatever other English words they knew.

2. It would take years to learn these table manners.

… unless, of course, you already possess the singular gift of eating couscous with your bare hands. Moroccans traditionally eat out of a communal bowl and without utensils, even when the food is really tricky — say couscous or shredded rghaif. If this wasn’t difficult enough, it’s also considered unclean to use your left hand. Righties of the world may shrug that off, but I was in a state of near-panic when I saw the “no left hand” commandment in our guidebook.

Where in the world is La Expatriada?!

Cue that cheesy Rockapella intro...

Do y’all remember Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? I kind of feel like her lately — alas, without that sassy trench coat.

I’ve been doing a ton of travelling lately and for most of it, I’ve been off the grid! Apologies to my mother and other people who thought my flight might have crashed in the Adriatic.

The reality is far more mundane: my laptop is old, old laptops are heavy, heavy things aren’t fun to carry in Morocco.

(Morocco, you say? When the hell did I go to Morocco?!)

So until last Tuesday, my roommate and I were in Eastern Europe for Semana Santa, a hectic trip that spawned several posts and a brief video series.

After a quick suitcase change and a mere 24 hours in Madrid, I then jumped on a plane to Tangiers and spent four days in Morocco as part of a cultural exchange program.

Now I’m finally back in Spain — poorer and more exhausted than when I left, for sure, but totally inspired and overwhelmed by all the stuff I’ve seen in the past two weeks. I don’t think I ever envisioned my life taking me to Christmas carol sing-alongs in the mountains of northern Africa, or to sidewalk toasts with long-haired Croatian roadies and self-expelled American expatriates.

… that’s kind of awesome, yeah?

Al fin de todo, though, I’m really glad to be back “home” and am definitely looking forward to regaining my normal blog/life/shower schedule. In fact, I think I’ll make a triumphant return to form by editing photos tonight instead of writing my Global Communications paper.

Stay tuned, world — La Expatriada is finally back in Spain!

SNL on Spain, Americans, Woody Allen, death …

“I’m young!  If there’s ever a time to go to Sevilla and get murdered by a stranger, this is it!”

Thanks to Tuan for digging this gem up …

In case you’re craving Mexican food in Madrid …

Margaritas! Por fin!

I think a lot of people come to Spain with the (grave) misconception that Spanish and Mexican foods are more or less one and the same. Not only is that untrue — have you ever seen me blog about a burrito? — it can also be pretty hard to find Mexican food in Madrid. Which, at times, is problematic.

Yesterday afternoon for instance, Meredith and I decided we’d go for margaritas after our phonetics exam. Our professor’s name is Margarita, and she’s fond of using this weird, self-referential speech mechanism wherein she’ll explain something and then pretend to be a student with a question, i.e. “blah blah blah — pero Margarita, ¿por quéeeee?”

So post-exam margaritas were obviously in order. After hauling out to Plaza de España, however, and discovering that our selected Mexican restaurant did not in fact exist, we were forced to improvise a little. And by improvise, I mean wander-into-the-most-cheesily-decorated-Latin-American-restaurant-within-a-five-mile-radius.

This, amigos, brings us to La Llama, perhaps the best lunch decision Meredith and I have ever made.

For starters, it’s called La Llama — please allow that comedy to sink in — and decorated with paper streamers and all kinds of knick-knacks from Peru. The waitress was perhaps the nicest lady ever. And the food was awesome: Meredith had some kind of baked chicken thing (you’ll recall she’s a vegetarian, so that didn’t go over very well) and I had pork chops with mango sauce.

Our food also came with a incredible (fattening?) array of carbohydrates: bread, rice, French fries, papas rellenas … all in all, a lot of stuff for less than 10 euros. AND it was my first time trying Peruvian food, which was definitely pretty cool.

Sadly, this did mean that Meredith and I had to put off our margaritas until around 10, when we accidentally chanced upon a Mexican restaurant in Chueca. Fifteen euro will buy you a pitcher of really good margaritas, which is enough to prompt a series of embarassing interactions with Spanish men in the metro.

Yeah, it’s definitely a good thing we couldn’t find margaritas at lunch time.

Culture Shock!: The Spanish just do not dig plaques

What is this thing? Why is it so oversaturated? Without plaques, you may never know!

Visiting Madrid’s old Royal Palace was simultaneously one of the most interesting and most aggravating things I’ve done in Spain.

On one hand, the extravagance of the 18th-century palace was totally engrossing, and the opportunity to trudge through the rooms where kings once ate breakfast and played pool was sick, to say the least. But every time I was curious about something – an elaborate painting, a weird piece of furniture, the function of a misshaped room – I was absolutely out of luck.

The Spanish hate plaques. There are none to be found anywhere.

This is difficult for Americans, who are used to seeing historical placards, commemoratives and other explanatory notices posted everywhere. If the United States had a royal palace, you can guarantee that its curators would put plaques on every item that didn’t move:

“This is the bench where so-and-so did such-and-such.” “This wallpaper is a prime example of this obscure style, which we are now going to discuss at length.” “This air conditioner was not a part of the original building, but was added in 1972.”

In Spain, on the other hand, you will be lucky to track down a small, rather awkwardly written blurb, which only specifies that Goya did in fact paint the portrait in the far left corner.

Maybe they’re trying to make money off guidebooks (nice try, Spain — y’all got nothing from me). But I think it’s more likely that, in many cases, people just aren’t as hung up on history.

After all, you can’t walk 10 feet in Spain without running into a Roman ruin or a medieval castle or some sort of elaborate, storied cathedral. History here is like a matter of course.

Whereas at home, even one-time brothels and obscure drinks merit attention. Lame, perhaps — but informative!

The worst study abroad advice you’ll ever receive

This is indeed mailed out to university upperclassmen.

Every once and a while, SU Madrid sends out this totally hilarious, totally preposterous newsletter called “Bridget’s Diary.” While I think it’s supposed to be serious, it never fails to make me laugh.

… hysterically.

If you can get beyond the fact that SU thinks its average student shares the common sense/IQ/coping skills of the average 10-year-old, the latest edition is almost a good read. Or, you know, a cleverly veiled insult.

You decide.

So, I’m leaving for Barcelona in four hours …

Val (R) and her roommates in Barcelona. I'm anticipating the best weekend of all time.

You might not hear much from me this weekend, amigos — I’ve spontaneously decided to take a trip to Barcelona!

My best friend Val has an apartment there and I had something of a bummer week. So with a sense of randomness/adventure I show only rarely in the States, I decided to trek out to Atocha Renfe and buy a ticket for tonight’s Estrella train, which leaves Madrid at 11  and gets into Barca at 7:30.

theelysiansound (6:26:24 PM): hey! expect me at 7:45 am tomorrow.
everglowatlantic (6:26:42 PM): ahhhh!!!
everglowatlantic (6:26:44 PM): so excited!!
everglowatlantic (6:33:20 PM): we have a lot to do.
everglowatlantic (6:33:28 PM): I will take you to all the best places.

So even if I’m not the best blogger this weekend, I’ll have lots of photos and videos to post when I get back.

EDIT: If you’d like to follow my adventures, you can still do so on Twitter.

Culture Shock!: Boxed milk and other weirdness

What the heck is this stuff? More importantly, why isn't it in a refrigerator?

I spent my first few weeks in Spain terrified of contracting some serious infection or gastrointestinal illness. Contrary to everything I’d learned about food safety, my host mother does not refrigerate milk – and while it magically never appears to go bad, I wasn’t convinced that it wouldn’t kill me.

Five weeks in, however, and I’m still here – in fact, even as I write this post, I’m drinking coffee with counter-stored milk in it. And thinking of the number of times I’ve gotten in trouble for leaving milk on the counter, or – even worse! – the number of times I’ve grimaced and drank the only slightly-spoiled milk from my dorm room fridge, I’m beginning to see the wisdom of the European system.

Spanish milk is totally different from American milk. For starters, it comes in a box and thus kind of tastes like cardboard. It also uses a different type of pasteurization – called UHT – that kills more bacteria and makes it safe for longer periods of time without refrigeration. While I wouldn’t be terribly keen to try this one, sources say that unopened boxed milk will stay fresh for up to nine months.

I had to wonder why this thing hasn’t caught on in the States. After all, Americans have pretty much cornered the over-sanitized food market (genetically modified, pre-cut, hermetically sealed vegetables, anyone?), and un-spoil-able milk is hard to beat.

Apparently some European milk manufacturers thought the same when they tried to market boxed milk in the U.S. about 15 years ago. At the time, CNN predicted that they’d face a tough crowd — Americans just don’t want to give up the milk flavor they’re used to, even if it this cardboard variety never spoils.

Judging by the fact that I’d never seen boxed milk before this trip, I’m gonna go ahead and guess that they were right.

My first Spanish wine-tasting leaves me slightly tipsier, just as uncultured as before

This isn't our tasting, specifically, but it's with the same instructor. Note the blur-action passion for wine and bemused/bewildered faces.

I have what could only be termed “extremely limited” experience with Spanish wine. In fact, if you’ve ever read this blog before, you’ll know that my taste in alcohol runs toward whatever’s cheapest and mixes best with Fanta Limón.

Last Thursday, however, I decided to class it up a bit and attend a bona fide Spanish wine tasting class, which was both awesome and absurd. I’m not sure my taste has improved, but I’ll probably be able to out-snob someone at a dinner party. That’s really all that matters, right?

If you’d like to impress your friends/Mom/coworker with your knowledge of Spanish wine, here are some fun facts:

• Spain has more vineyards than any country in the world and is the third wine producer after France and Italy.
  
• Spain boasts the market’s best value wines, a.k.a. cheap stuff that is still delicious.
  
• When you order a Spanish wine, you do it by region, not by type … except for cava, which is apparently cava everywhere.
  
• Rioja and Rueda are two of the most famous regions traditionally, but Bierzo and Priorat are trendy now.
• The Spanish government regulates wine-making and labeling pretty carefully. You can get the whole scoop on Wikipedia.

… and here are the wines we tried, complete with price in euros and my super-informed commentary:

• Cava — Brut Imperial Gran Reserva Brut 2006 (Cataluna, 15) — The best wine ever. This will be served at my wedding.
  
• White – Shaya Old Vine Verdejo 2006 (Rueda, 8 ) — Pretty good.
  
• White – DV Chardonnay 2008 (Sierras de Malaga, 15) — Likewise pretty good, not sure why it’s twice the cost of the other one.
  
• Red – Cantos de Valpiedra 2006 (Rioja, 5) — The “softest, fruitiest” red, according to our instructor. “The red that doesn’t leave a bad taste in your mouth,” according to me.
  
• Red – Cepas Viejas 2006 (Bierzo, 12) — Kind of wish I liked red wine.
  
• Red – Camins del Priorat 2007 (Priorat, 10) — And again.
  
• Red – Valtosca 2007 (Jumilla, 17) — This was pretty gross.
  
• Red – Bodegas Cuevas Jiminez (Ribera del Duero, 23) — This was only drinkable because I’d consumed seven glasses of wine already.
  

Please note that, true to form, my favorite red was the dead cheapest bottle of the bunch. Some things never change, my friends – even if I am holding the glass correctly, swirling it several times and making highbrow comments about “mineral flavors” and “fruity tones.”

How to … avoid getting homesick on study abroad

This guy should have read my homesick tips.

This admission might shock/scandalize my parents and my grandmother, but after more than a month in Spain, I’m not homesick – at all!

It’s not that I don’t miss my family, my friends, cupcakes, the ready availability of peanut butter and day-long Hulu marathons, but for some reason, I just haven’t felt the sting as much as some other people in my program. I think it has a lot to do with being phenomenally excited about Spain … but at the same time, I think living by myself before, and developing some good homesick-strategies then, has really helped, as well.

If you’re going abroad and want to avoid getting homesick, consider the following:

1. Leave the nest at least once first. The most uncomfortable part of going abroad is jumping into an area and a culture that you’re not familiar with. But if you’ve already had the experience of living or travelling alone, the shock isn’t quite as severe. Living in New York City last summer – by myself for one month, and with my aunt and uncle for a month and a half more – prepared me for everything from the metro commute to the occasional bouts of loneliness.
2. Leave the long-distance loves at home. From personal observation/eavesdropping, it seems like two-thirds of all homesickness issues are caused by significant others in the States. I know it’s sort of sacrilegious to suggest a pre-study abroad break-up, but at least consider talking to your boyfriend or girlfriend about the changes you’re going to have to make to your relationship while you’re 4000 miles away.
3. Know when to sign offline. It’s hard to embrace a new lifestyle when you’re constantly bombarded by photos and notes from your old one. If you’re prone to homesickness, try to avoid spending lots of time on Facebook, Twitter, AIM or Skype. Seeing photos from your friends’ parties or talking to your Mom for hours on end won’t make you miss them any less.
4. Come prepared. Bring stuff from home that will help cheer you up if you need it, like your favorite albums, books or movies, an old scrapbook or a mix CD. It’s a little hokey, but we all know it works – I have no idea where I’d be in life without The O.C. Season 1 and Atlas Sound’s “Walkabout.”
5. Love the ones you’re with. Forming close relationships with your host family, your roommate and the people in your program is a sure way to make a foreign country feel more like home. Plus, if you are feeling bummed out, you can talk to these people live and in person – as opposed to waiting up with your computer, hoping that one of your friends will eventually sign online.
   
6. Keep busy. How could you possibly miss the United States when there are so many thousands of awesome things to do in Spain? Keeping busy, whether with shopping, museum-hopping or volunteering, is guaranteed to keep things in perspective – and to give you a better study abroad experience, overall.
   
7. Keep a blog. I didn’t start out with this goal when I set up my blog, but it does seem to have helped me escape the homesickness bug. Blogging is not only a really great way to relieve your frustrations and struggles abroad, but it also lets everybody at home know what you’re up to. And, if you’re a journalism major, you can add it to your resume in the hopes that someone will eventually find it entertaining.
   

If none of these things work, your best bet is to speak to a teacher or health counselor in your program. Everybody feels homesick sometimes – you’re in a country without CUPCAKES, after all – but remember that it’s all a part of the grand “study abroad” process. By the time you get home, you’ll probably feel homesick for Spain.

Do you guys have any ideas?