After a five-hour bus ride from Madrid, I sit at the dinner table with a glass of vino and my new host family. They have served me a Basque delicacy in honor of my arrival. Pinkish creatures slide around my plate among rice and black sauce. I am eating calamari in their own ink. I spear one with my fork and, under the pressure of my knife, tiny pink tentacles squirt out.
This is my life now. This is my family. This is my food.
This dinner perfectly represents my study-abroad experience - initially scary, then quite good. My six-month experience in Bilbao, Spain, last year was a journey to new places and experiences. From August to January, I found myself in a house from which I could see the Bay of Biscay from the kitchen. As a photographer, I'm trained to observe my surroundings visually, recording memories of a place in either film or writing. This project became a daily account of my time there.
The vineyard
I sit in a wagon amid barrels of wine grapes, cradling fruit in one hand and my camera in the other. The workers ask if I speak Spanish (yes, a little), Portuguese (no), or English (yes), and tell me I'm beautiful. They have golden skin from afternoons in the vineyard, dark brown eyes, and easy, genuine smiles. After an hour, I go back to the bodega and am invited to lunch with the workers and family. I eat a four-course Spanish meal with 15-year-old red and white Rioja, bread, coffee, and laid-back company. Workers, fingers stained purple from the grapes, carry on - laughing, eating, and talking. Pouring me more "family reserva" Rioja, they sing a Spanish song to help remember my name.
The language
Speaking Spanish sometimes feels like my experiences with love. I know what people are saying, what they're talking about. I can even laugh at the jokes sometimes. But when I try, I speak in simple language, while others are lyrical. Sometimes, I gaze down bashfully while other times saying whatever, unaware of the consequences. Mostly I fall flat on my face and look like a blazing idiot. But, like a kid watching a playground, I remain intrigued, dazzled by the spectacle.
The ocean
I try surfing for the first time. Growing up on a farm did not prepare me for the ocean, thus I spend most of the time underwater. Being caught under a wave is like being in a wind storm: My hair flies straight forward, pulling me. The water rips at my clothes with incredible force. At the surface, I hear a fizzing: tiny water bubbles popping all around.
The rain
Bilbao is known for its rainy season. The cold is descending. The rain is falling "like it's floating down," a classmate says, enchanted by the spectacle. Weathermen warn against depression, and my foot bleeds in my shoe from walking too much.
The revival
The waters of San Sebastian heal me. In the air. In the ocean. Ships circle with enormous nets, gathering red seaweed. Not to eat, for cosmetics. Imagine soaking in the water that feeds this plant, which the world's privileged smear on their aging skin. I have come to the source, I think. Live and dream quietly, and everything will be explained later, in due time.
The joy
Living near an international airport and the ocean, white bellies of airplanes and seagulls always hover over my head. I am so happy today. I want to run out the door, onto the slick, leaf-spattered sidewalks, and scream, sing, Amor! Vida! Vale! Bueno! It doesn't matter what you yell. Let the tide rise, and laugh.
New vocabulary for the day: Rebosar (to glow).
The goodbye
Santander Airport, 4:45 p.m. I have a tearful goodbye with my family after a night out with my friends. I had walked "home" for the last time while the streets were dark. Electrical work had shut off the town's lights from 1-6 a.m., a farewell of sorts. Of course, the birds were chirping, ready for the next day.
The return
Here I am. Over the Great Lakes. Traveling at 504 mph more than 39,000 feet in the air. One hour until I arrive in the Midwest. I feel as if it's 8:30 p.m., but the sun is shining over the blue-and-white horizon, split only by a gun-metal-gray airplane wing, shaking precariously as I enter the life I left on pause five months ago.
University Studies Abroad Consortium (USAC)
Established in 1982, USAC provides quality study abroad programs in 21 countries including intensive language & full curriculum programs. Month, summer, semester, & yearlong programs are available; as well as field trips, numerous housing arrangements, and internships.
(775) 784-6569 or usac.unr.edu
See more Study Abroad Listings >
|
.jpg)
