Returning Home & My First Month in Spain
HELLO! From Spain!
I would apologize for the long delay in posting—but let’s be real, it’s been a busy time and you all expected this, right? After all, I just left Korea, spent 3 weeks back home in Texas (is it home anymore…?) and then moved to Spain on September 20th.
Let’s talk about what a whiplash this was. First—Texas.
I’ll start with the fun stuff. I spent a lot of time at home, eating takeout with my family or friends. It was SO GOOD to have tacos and tex-mex again. We ate outside, in parks near the grassy knoll, or in backyards. I was bracing myself for a hot Texas summer, but it was never really too hot.
I met up with old friends, some of whom I had seen in over seven years. We caught up and shared all the ways we’ve grown and healed since high school.
I hung out with friends I’d met in Korea, too—they showed me parts of Dallas I’ve never seen.
I met my friends’ new friends, spent hours in art galleries, and celebrated birthdays. I didn’t realize this until later, but it was very much needed for me.
My favorite week was spent with my mom. Our relationship has really never been better.
We watched a movie about a CODA (child of a Deaf adult) called….well, CODA. I really recommend it. We both cried—her because she relates to all the struggles of being hard of hearing in a hearing world, and me because I know what it’s like to be a CODA, in most ways.
But, it wasn’t all that fun in Texas. Going from Korea, which is still under pretty intense lockdowns to Texas, which is the Wild West about COVID…well, that was rough. I was extremely freaked out seeing so many unmasked people, especially indoors. Even some of my family mocked me for wearing a mask in public.
Old pains and frustrations resurfaced; I struggled with feeling like a 14 year old in my dad’s house again. So when it came time to jump over to Spain, most of me was very ready.
Except for the part of me that wasn’t.
I was starting over in a foreign country all over again. Uprooting myself, going it alone, jumping out of my comfort zone into something I didn’t know how to prepare for was…well, you think it’d be routine by now. You think Spain would be a piece of cake after Korea. But it was not. I think the transition to Spain was far harder than Korea—in Korea, well, not to say it’s easy, but you’re held by the hand every step of the way.
My first day in Spain was a burst of every anxiety I’d harbored since I decided to move there. The language barrier was intense—even though my Spanish is already far better than my Korean. I look very Spanish (which, I am, technically), and so people expect me to speak Spanish. When I don’t, especially in bureaucracy appointments, people seem to get so frustrated with me. I seem to break a lot of unspoken rules.
A good example is how on my first day, I was sitting in the beautiful courtyard of my airbnb, waiting for it to be 3pm so I could check in. After about ten minutes, the elderly neighbor next door poked her head out the door and began to yell at me to leave, saying I couldn’t stand there. I tried to explain in broken Spanish why I was waiting, but she just stared me down until I left.
When I came back later that evening, she tapped on the window and beckoned me over. I thought she was going to yell at me again. Instead, she gave me a thing of grapes and said something in Spanish I didn’t understand. I think she was apologizing. Apology grapes?
The apartment hunt was also brutal. Every day I woke up and headed to a cafe to spend hours searching for places and messaging landlords. I messaged probably 30-40 landlords in Spanish. You might think that doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it was extremely stressful for me to not know where I was going to be living—and feeling like I had no leads.
Most didn’t read my message. If they did read it, they would leave me on read. If they did message me back, it was to tell me there was A) no contract (something I absolutely needed) or B) the room was already taken. If it wasn’t already taken, they’d have me visit.
I toured about four places, and absolutely loved one. I told the landlord immediately I wanted it, but he wanted to leave it up to the two roommates already living there. After two days of silence, they told me sorry, but no—because my Spanish wasn’t good enough.
I had a little less than two weeks before work started, so it wasn’t that I didn’t have time.
It was that I simply was exhausted of staring at my phone all day. I barely had the chance to enjoy Madrid—but the search was so grueling for me, that I eventually had to force myself to take breaks. I got churros with chocolate with a new friend. I also went to see Dune in theaters twice (SO GOOD), if only to take my mind off the apartment hunt for a few hours.
After a week of that, I saw someone post on Facebook that their old roommate in Móstoles was looking to rent out a room. His mom is the landlady, and she’d been bugging him to find someone. It so happens my school is placed in Móstoles, about half an hour/an hour outside of Madrid.
The poster told me she’d loved staying in the suburbs, as her commute to work was much better and it was cheaper. After a week of looking at tiny, expensive bedrooms in central Madrid, surrounded by huge crowds of tourists, the thought of living in a quieter area sounded blissful. So, I went to see the place that night and said yes!
Some people think I’m crazy or pity me for not living in the center—and I won’t lie, taking the hour-long late night bus back at 3am isn’t ideal. My town isn’t a village, but I have yet to find a nice cafe to work in. Still, I think I made the right choice.
My landlady, a 75 year old woman who normally lives in Granada, came up for two weeks to help me move in and to take care of her son, my roommate, who had an operation just a few days after I moved in. She was so, so sweet and made lunch and dinner for us: think dishes of Spanish omelettes, soups, tomato salads and roasted chicken. I was in heaven.
I also started three jobs in the same week. First up was my main school job. It’s been a little awkward; I think many teachers don’t know what to do with me. I teach more classes than I did in Korea, surprisingly. But the pluses outweigh the negatives: they’re super flexible on vacation time, the teachers and kids are far less reserved than in Korea, and I get out at 1pm every day. (We don’t eat lunch at the school; Spaniards eat lunch at 2 or 3pm!) It is not a difficult job, not at all.
I also found an extra tutoring job at a charter school, tutoring 7th graders. Teens get a bad rap, and they probably deserve it, but they’re also hilarious. The last job is my resume writing job, which is not so difficult. I have plenty of time for exploring.
Last but not least—my new friends. My roommate is Spanish, and only speaks Spanish.
However, his girlfriend is an English teacher, so she invited me out with her friends. We met at 7pm to pre-game, then went to dinner for four hours (Spanish people make dinner into an event). Despite the conversation being impossible for me to understand, everyone seemed really kind.
I’ve met so many other auxiliars off of the Facebook groups. I went to a mid-20s meetup (many people who do this program are fresh out of college. I’ve met a lot of 22 year olds, who are great, but it’s also refreshing to meet up with people who’ve been working for a while). We sat for hours in Retiro park, chatting, then a few of us went for Indian food and drinks after.
Yesterday, two new friends of mine and I went to Toledo, an hour south of Madrid.
We spent the day wandering around, gaping at cathedrals and witchcraft museums. We found a bakery that sells penis-shaped waffles lol. We cracked up at baby Jesus paintings, and relaxed in sunlit courtyards, feeling like we were Game of Thrones characters.
To end the day, we bought groceries and hiked 30 minutes out of the city to have a picnic. I was glad I brought my camera—I was able to take photos for the first time in a loooong time :)
I think this is when it started to hit me—I’m really in Spain. This is my life now.
I still miss Korea—and even the US—more than I can say. Adjusting to no longer living alone is not easy. I miss walking into my old school’s office, bowing to everyone, and drinking a freshly brewed cup of coffee made lovingly by our gym teacher. I still think in Korean sometimes. Out of habit, I still receive drinks with two hands and bow to elders (bowed to my principal unintentionally lol). I wish I could be there to know what everyone thinks about Squid Game (which was filmed in Daejeon!!).
But growing pains are called so for a reason—we are growing, changing, ideally improving. I am glad to be here, glad even for the moments of panic, when I wondered if I could even do this. Maybe glad is the wrong word. But I acknowledge them. I allow them space to exist within myself.
I don’t want to pretend it’s all been easy or charmed. Cleary, it has not been. But was it ever going to be simple? No.
Poco a poco, as my Spanish tutor says. Little by little, step by step. The slow pace of Spanish life has been infuriating at times, but I’m trying to lean into it. I’m trying to practice letting things come to me, rather than forcing it.
I hope you readers are all doing well—especially old friends and loved ones from Korea:
선생님들 보고싶어요...그리고 사랑해요 ㅠㅠ
Thanks for reading, and see you next time!