On my morning runs I pass a little, old man in a wide brimmed hat walking his little, brown terrier mix and his two nanny goats along the dusty, dirt road at the edge of town.  This morning he asked me, “What’s the hurry?”  His voice was as raspy and dry as the . . . → Read More: “What’s the hurry?”]]>  

On my morning runs I pass a little, old man in a wide brimmed hat walking his little, brown terrier mix and his two nanny goats along the dusty, dirt road at the edge of town.  This morning he asked me, “What’s the hurry?”  His voice was as raspy and dry as the dusty, yellowed grass his goats nibbled.  His gnarled fingers, pressed against the mechanized larynx in his throat, allowed the voice to escape.  I hadn’t expected him to greet me.  Expected neither the mechanized voice, nor the twinkle in his eyes.  I was thinking about the goats’ milk; cheese, to be exact.  My mind rambles while I run.  It writes blogs, sings songs, and starts novels.  I run for fitness and for mental health.  But I also run to eat.

Cow, sheep, goat, mild, sharp, fresh, creamy, young, aged, oiled, herbed, and nearly every cheese in between can be found in Extremadura.  Pastures abound and the dry climate is good for curing cheese and meat alike.   I could try a different variety of local cheese every day for months without exhausting the possibilities or tiring of the flavors.  Trujillo has an annual cheese festival in the spring to which hundreds of vendors from across the country flock to share their finest with tens of thousands of appreciative cheese enthusiasts.  Extremaduran cheeses alone would more than suffice, if it weren’t for cabrales.  Wrapped in oak leaves, speckled, blue-green, crumbly, pungent and demanding an oaky red wine to accompany it, cabrales comes from the north.  Asturias, in the Picos de Europa, where the maritime climate fills the steep mountain valleys with fog and ancient beech forests seem to whisper of witches and magic in times long past.

I grinned, shrugged, and waved at him over my shoulder.  I have no rush per say.  I run to better appreciate small pleasures.  Fresh goat cheese from nanny goats like the little, old man’s.  Contrasts, like the plump, ripe blackberries just up the dusty, dirt road.

Every day I come home from class between 1:30 and 1:45 and the house is empty.  But not for long.

Around 2:00 I hear, “¡Susana, Susana!”  It is my little hermana (sister) coming home from pre-school.  We play peek-a-boo and wave hello at our reflections on . . . → Read More: Lessons at Lunchtime]]>

My Host Mom and Me in Our Kitchen

Every day I come home from class between 1:30 and 1:45 and the house is empty.  But not for long.

Around 2:00 I hear, “¡Susana, Susana!”  It is my little hermana (sister) coming home from pre-school.  We play peek-a-boo and wave hello at our reflections on the Photobooth application on my Mac, while my madre (mother) bustles around in the kitchen fixing lunch.

When I arrived in Spain I learned quickly that lunchtime is not just “lunch.” It is family time, a time to have a good meal, and to settle down.  For my madre and me, it has become a time for us to talk and learn from each other.

When my padre (father) leaves to put my hermana down for her afternoon siesta, my madre and I remain at the table.  As we talk, I learn where to get the best deal on rain boots, that there are no alcohol commercials in Spain at Christmas time, and proper etiquette at Spanish weddings.  She tells me why you should never eat with your hands in front of strangers, why it is okay to leave milk out for hours at a time, and why I should date that cute guy she saw on my Facebook.

She speaks English, I speak Spanish, and we help each other.  Sometimes, things get really intense.  Before we know it we’re drawing charts with conjugations and figures of speech, and dashing into the next room to grab the Spanish-English dictionary.

I tell her that there is no such thing as sandwich bread with the crusts cut off in the United States, what I plan to cook on Thanksgiving Day, and confess my distaste for blood sausage.  We talk about our mothers and sisters and the friends we’ve lost.  We laugh with and at each other, and sometimes tears end up on the tablecloth.

Five weeks from today I will get on a plane and head back to the United States.  Lunchtime will revert back to its drive-thru, dine-and-dash routine.  But for now I’ll sit and enjoy my lunchtime lessons.  I have a lot left to learn in five weeks.

My Host Mom, Carmen, and Me at a Family Wedding Reception

Juani and Miguel Cook Paella in the Campo

What stuck out to me the most, though, was . . . → Read More: Los Niños]]> On a Saturday in the middle of October, all of the students and their host families spent the day together in the countryside, or “campo”.  We watched Miguel and Juani cook paella and cut fruit for sangria. 

Juani and Miguel Cook Paella in the Campo

What stuck out to me the most, though, was watching the children and their interaction with the adults.

Kids of all ages played in a nearby river and successfully captured dozens of slimy frogs while the Americanas were sufficiently grossed out.  Their parents laughed and gave them praise for catching so many.  Not only did the adults encourage their children’s exploring, they also jumped rope and taught us traditional Spanish jump rope songs.  One host father even brought balloons to make balloon animals to entertain the children.  My padre, Antonio, taught everyone how to make a dog, to the screaming delight of the children.  There were green dogs, pink crowns and blue swords flying around everywhere.

Trujillanos seem to know and live by the saying, “It takes a village to raise a child.”  They focus much of their attention on their children, but not necessarily only their own.  The culture emphasizes the importance of future generations.  This was abundantly apparent to me on this particular day.  I was surrounded by people of all ages and their loving interactions with the children.  I saw people play with children who weren’t even in their distant families, but caring for them just the same.

Spanish parents have an incredible way of allowing their children to be independent, but also caring for them in a very special way.  Almost every week the kids spend time with their aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, grandparents, etc., confirming that the children are very important to everyone in the family.  Every Friday, my hermanita goes to her aunt’s house after should to spend the night.  They eat lunch, dinner and breakfast together as well as play games and watch movies.  She says she is her “second mom” and loves to spend time with her.

Every day, there is an overwhelming amount of love that fills the air of my Spanish home.  My padres not only have two kids, but they now have “adopted” a 20-year-old Americana who will always consider them family.  It will be devastatingly sad to leave them in 5 weeks, but knowing I will see them again one day gives me an incredible sense of happiness.

Do you ever feel that your daily life lacks thrill and excitement, and gets more dull with each day? I certainly felt that way before I decided to study and travel abroad in Trujillo, Spain. My daily routine in the States began to . . . → Read More: Living Life at New Heights]]>

On the Walls of the Castillo in Trujillo

Do you ever feel that your daily life lacks thrill and excitement, and gets more dull with each day? I certainly felt that way before I decided to study and travel abroad in Trujillo, Spain. My daily routine in the States began to lose spontaneity, and I lost my appreciation of life as a young college student. The time had come to take a risk, and push myself outside my own comfort zone. I decided the only way to do this was to move to Spain.

Since living in Trujillo, I have been able to reclaim my desire to live life to the fullest. Studying abroad is not just about going to school and learning about the culture, but devoting time to yourself and experiencing the world around you. I dedicate time to my host mother and her three daughters to build relationships that are meaningful and long lasting. I take long, scenic runs around the campo, absorbing the beauty of Trujillo around me, and realizing the good fortune I have been granted by being here. I frequently visit the old castle walls that overlook the entire town of Trujillo. As I stand on the edge of the castle, feeling a sense of peace and liberation, I reflect on my unique experiences. I realize life is about taking chances, laughing constantly, living with no regrets, building relationships, and continuing to change and grow as a person. Living in Spain has fulfilled all of these elements of life, and each day I learn something new about myself.

If I hadn’t come to Spain, I wouldn’t have had the chance to explore myself. My decision to come here has shown me that I am a courageous person, open to the world around me, and eager to learn every chance I get. To take a risk and move to Spain was the best decision I have ever made. Will you decide to walk to the edge and study in Trujillo?

There’s no such thing as soccer; in Trujillo the only sport that truly exists is futból. Although technically the same game, the cultural subtleties between futból in Spain and soccer in the US are quite different. The sport has a long history in Spain; from the Barcelona/Real Madrid rivalry that exploded under Franco’s . . . → Read More: There’s No Such Thing as Soccer]]>

Futbol!!

There’s no such thing as soccer; in Trujillo the only sport that truly exists is futból. Although technically the same game, the cultural subtleties between futból in Spain and soccer in the US are quite different. The sport has a long history in Spain; from the Barcelona/Real Madrid rivalry that exploded under Franco’s regime to the National team’s recent victory at the 2010 World Cup, futból has always been a driving force behind a Spaniard’s sense of pride.

Although the majority of the residents of Trujillo are split in their loyalty between Barca and Real Madrid, there is one team they all support; the local Trujillo F.C. Comprised of players from around the town, the team plays every Sunday in the warm late afternoon sun and every other game is played at their home field a few minutes walk from the center of town. Fans arrive throughout the game to cheer on the Trujillanos and to yell at the ref when he makes seemingly unfair calls. Of all the Spanish traditions I have experienced in Trujillo those afternoons spent at the futból pitch have to be my favorite. The atmosphere within the estadio is so quintessentially Spanish it’s hard to describe. From the whitewashed stone walls to the hand painted advertisements, to the fact that they serve beer in glasses that spectators bring from home, it has to be one of the most vibrant places in town. During half time young children flood the field to live out their dreams of playing on the team and frequently have to be shooed off the pitch so play can resume. It’s easy to see why the Campo Municipal is one of the most loved locations in town. Even if you only visit Trujillo for a short while I would highly recommend that you experience a futból game and see why Spaniards live and breath futból for yourself.

Entrance to the Campo Municipal

Every day, twice a day, I carefully make my way home over uneven, crooked, cobblestone streets lined with Medieval stone buildings. I am in a walled city so rich in history that it leaks from the cracks the lizards escape into. Trujillo, and Spain itself, . . . → Read More: Aventura Increíble]]>

The Church of San Martin in the Plaza Mayor

Every day, twice a day, I carefully make my way home over uneven, crooked, cobblestone streets lined with Medieval stone buildings. I am in a walled city so rich in history that it leaks from the cracks the lizards escape into. Trujillo, and Spain itself, has structures and remnants from historic periods a whole lot older than most in the United States. And though I love the States, there is something very compelling about walking through a city that has been known since Prehistoric times — literally. This is one of the reasons I love Europe. When we qualify something as “old” in the United States, you think about an entirely different century than you do in Europe. For some of us, something “old” in the United States is really only dated back to when the Europeans first settled, which didn’t happen until well into the 15th century. Saying something is “old” in Europe can mean something dating back to the 1st century! This concept of time boggles my mind. On one walk through the Antigua part of Trujillo, we found a stone thought to be a Roman ruin from the 1st century. They have reused it and put it in the wall of a building.

"Recycled" Stone with what may be Roman inscriptions

In the three weeks we have lived in Trujillo, we have watched running with the bulls, eaten paella, hiked through the countryside, stargazed from the top of the castle and eaten olives in the plaza. All very Spanish things! Studying and living in a different culture has been incredible, to say the least. Living with a host family is both more interesting and more fun than living with other students. Not only does your Spanish improve immensely, but you are welcomed into a family with open arms. You are considered another child, and they love you just as they love their own. All doubts about studying abroad were immediately washed away as soon as I stepped into the welcoming embrace of my familia. Deciding to study abroad was the best decision I could have made!

My host Mom!

I am excited to continue this incredible adventure!

Thinking about studying abroad? Many study abroad students live with other English speakers in a dorm-like setting, however, in Trujillo,you will be living with a host family. Does this bring up concerns? Wild worries that the family might be mass murderers? Never fear…

Meeting Host Families Upon Arrival

In . . . → Read More: Living With “Strangers”]]>

First Moments in Trujillo!

Thinking about studying abroad? Many study abroad students live with other English speakers in a dorm-like setting, however, in Trujillo,you will be living with a host family. Does this bring up concerns? Wild worries that the family might be mass murderers? Never fear…

Meeting Host Families Upon Arrival

In Trujillo, the first step off of the bus, you are immediately greeted with hugs, kisses and an overall sense of excitement from both sides. You realize as soon as you step into your house, it already feels like home. They immediately introduce you as their “hija” or “hijo.” Like most people who study abroad, you will feel incapable of speaking the native language, but don’t fear, your padres are here! Your padres are patient while you continue to improve your Spanish. Remember, they want you here as much as you want to be here! Don’t let fears of the unknown hold you back from an incredible experience – live with strangers!

Getting to Know Your Host Mom

Created by: Molly Moore, Cally Rosenberg and Sydney Turnquist

Trujillo Group 2011

These are the accounts of thirteen Americanos who made the trek across the Atlantic, to yes: eat, siesta, fiesta (and learn). Join us through our saga over the semester as we explore our new home away from home: Trujillo, Spain.

The first day: Delicious delicacies of Spain, necessary mid-afternoon naps, . . . → Read More: Better than Eat, Pray, Love — Try Eat, Siesta, Fiesta]]>  

Trujillo Group 2011

These are the accounts of thirteen Americanos who made the trek across the Atlantic, to yes: eat, siesta, fiesta (and learn). Join us through our saga over the semester as we explore our new home away from home: Trujillo, Spain.

The first day: Delicious delicacies of Spain, necessary mid-afternoon naps, and the Bienvenido: the celebration of our arrival.

We were greeted by our families at the bus station (well, less of a greeting an more of a flash mob of besos and warm hugs). When we arrived to our new home our Madres filled our plates and before we could finish begged us to eat more. After our first Spanish feast, our freshly pressed sheets lured us into our new beds and an afternoon siesta. Later, our families convened in La Coria where our classes would be held, and we all proceeded to gorge ourselves on Spain’s famous sangria, paella, and tapas.

The feeling that this was the beginning of something great began to settle in as the sun set and the cool Spanish air sighed out of the medieval ruins that surrounded us. Welcome to Trujillo, or should I say, a little piece of Heaven.

First Night Fiesta at La Coria!