Sammy Wandering Abroad

Author: Sammy Wandering Abroad

  • Bienvenido a Granada

    Post-reckless retail splurge and I found myself struggling to distribute all my things into two suitcases, a handbag and my rucksack; back to square one with a bus journey ahead of us. 

     Just stepping foot in Granada there is a noticeable difference in the air of this place; a sense of calm envelops the city, with its undeniable wealth of history, quintessentially Spanish characteristics and a landscape of unparalleled beauty.

    La Alhambra, Granada
    La Alhambra, Granada

     Pulling up to my building in a cab, I feel I’ve made the right choice in terms of location (Hallelujah!). In a bid to become as ‘española’ as possible, I am currently residing in a sizable flat overlooking the city’s distinguished Plaza de Toros, in a neighbourhood literally dotted with tapas bars (as in one on every street/ corner/square meter of the area), which themselves create a buzz during lunchtime and late evening alike; a constant hustle of food, drink and Andalusian conversation.

     At the time of writing this blog, I have been in Granada for just over a fortnight, and it’s been a surreal blur of adjusting to late nights/early mornings/non-existent midday’s.  There are some things that I’ve become certain of whilst being here;

    1.  I will not go hungry (so Mum and Dad, stop panicking)
    2. If you want to buy something on Sunday, forget it, you can go without for one day.
    3. The Spanish are not lazy for incorporating ‘siesta’ into their working day – have you TRIED doing anything at that time of day in this heat??
    4. TAPAS. My bank balance and waistline approve.
    5. Customer service is not priority, so it’s up to you to holler at the waiter/sales assistant – if you want something done, do something about it.
    6. They like to stare – coming from where I’m from this is an alien concept – not here though; get used to it, the whole up-and-down staring thing.
    7. Don’t expect anything to be done immediately; the ‘mañana’ concept, that’s taken seriously.  Don’t worry though, it will get done, it’s just ASAP has less of a meaning here…
    8. I need to learn to slow my pace. Being programmed to London-time is not helpful in the slightest; here there is nothing important enough that requires walking more than 2mph; so keep calm and stroll on.
    9. The Spanish don’t do tips. It felt uncomfortable at first; not leaving 10% of the bill, almost as if I were pulling a ‘dine-and-dash’, but I checked with the natives, it’s the done thing here.
    10. Don’t go to the hairdressers expecting exactly what you asked for. Yesterday a friend and I left la peluquería, bewildered and looking like two 16 year old Spanish chicas, ready for our first prom. 
  • Málaga. I’ve never felt so British.

    Málaga. I’ve never felt so British.

    Whatever you’ve heard about the Costa del Sol and its rep of English boozers, ugly built up complexes, roast dinners available everyday of the week, etc; Believe it. But do not assume the same for the city. 

    Málaga more often than not gets looked over because of all those Costa-Del-Street-Crime stories and truth is, it couldn’t be more Spanish.

    The reason why I am left feeling so British here is because it  is outside my comfort zone; the people are different, the place has a foreign vibe and the general ambience of surroundings is far from what I am accustomed to.

    Josh’s new gaffe is a prime example. The boy has struck gold with this flat. Located directly opposite the city’s magnificent Cathedral, and situated above a charming local eatery, the building itself has an understated beauty to it. 

    Traditional wooden doors, tiled flooring and tall open rooms are just a few features that scream Málaga; a delightful mezcla of old and new. At the risk of sounding tres ‘property advert darling’ the balcony of his room is just to die for.  

    Vista al balcón de La Catedral de la Encarnación
    Vista al balcón de La Catedral de la Encarnación
    Not a bad view!
    Not a bad view!

    See what I mean.

    Once settled, it seemed apt that we try our hand at being Spanish and take an afternoon stroll or rather, ‘paseo’ around the city centre, before deciding that we were actually bloody starving and needed to stop at the next café we could see. 

    Sitting outside a Spanish restaurant in the sun sipping sangría is something you’d expect to be written on a postcard, but really, I can’t get enough of it.

    We ordered two raciones of pork cooked Moorish style, with a side of vegetables served alongside the standard bread basket – I wish I had done the hipster thing and taken a picture, it tasted authentic, rich in flavour, and just what I needed considering I hadn’t eaten anything that day (I can hear the gasps of those of you I know). 

    Having eaten we stumbled along the streets of the city and had a look around some of the shops, bad mistake for my cashcard balance #YOLO  -but Málaga has that ability to charm anyone into a holiday way of thinking. It’s only after moving on from the city that I’ve managed to kick the tourist feeling. 

    Being the typical night-owl students we live for early hours of the morning, so I thought YES, finally, a country with my mindset,  Spain is on my wave-length; I can excuse lateness with one word – ‘mañana’, I can eat/sleep/eat some more at any time, and it’s okay, cause everything is on my time…

    2.00am and elderly Spanish folk are casually taking a turn about the centre, some are sitting outside, just finishing off their tapas, and we find our sorry selves inside a Maccy Ds, exhausted from the whole day, not coping well at all with adjusting to la vida nocturna. 

    It would be rude not to visit la playa when on holiday (kind of) in Málaga, so after sleeping most of the next day away we headed to the beach, not a bad start to the year abroad.

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    Beach snap

    Málaga has upped it’s game when it comes to classy waterfronts, so much so that I felt more than a little under-dressed trudging from Playa de la Malagueta in tatty beachgear to the gentrified Puerto de Málaga. Lined with designer stores and other fancy outlets, the port portrays the city as new, up-and-coming, and a place of money. Not so much sandy hair and flip flops…

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    Puerto de Málaga

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  • I Ran Away to Southern Spain with a Beautiful Italian Boy

    I Ran Away to Southern Spain with a Beautiful Italian Boy

    1.30 am.

    Is this actually a joke; I’ve had two hours sleep. Still, it doesn’t feel like you’re going away unless you leave home at the crack of dawn.

    The Fam kindly delivered me to the airport, sending me on my way with a 19.7kg suitcase (job well done!) and the verbal last-minute checklist:

    ‘Have you got your boarding pass?/Where’s your money?KEEP IT SAFE/Do you have any liquids?/Do you need to go to the toilet?/Don’t forget your passport!’ Dios Mio.

    So after the hugs, a threatening reminder to Skype, and the whole airport security process, I’m through to the other side, I’m done, ready to fly. LATERS LONDON.

    Only not before I’ve made a royal tit out of myself of course. I’ve never had time for the smelly traveller. But today, I became just that. Like anyone I love to grab a good bargain, and in this situation, the sign Duty Free instigated feelings of need and want. So naturally I decided to mosey around the perfume section; 20 minutes and a broken tester bottle later I find myself red-faced and rushing to my gate, reeking of an overbearing fruity fragrance I can’t even remember the name of.

    The flight itself passed by quickly enough (a casual peruse through £5 magazines, attempted napping in awkward positions, excitement of understanding Spanish announcements), and before I knew it I was outside Málaga airport (with no missing luggage YAY!), awaiting the arrival of the BFF, a sassy, strutting, sunglasses-clad Casalooch.

    Giosue, Playa de la Malagueta

    An emotional reunion was followed by a struggly bus journey to the city centre (managing two cases, a coat, a duty free bag and a handbag whilst sifting through a mixture of change for the driver ain’t exactly a piece of cake)…

  • Dolly, a Rice-cooker and No Heels

    Dolly, a Rice-cooker and No Heels

    Packing. It’s a revelation. I’ve done it before three years ago but still have difficulty in getting my priorities right. Because I DO need to pack sun cream before I get there, I DO need five different bags (daytime handbag, night-time handbag, gym bag, Uni rucksack, Big Ole Bag for mass food shopping) and yes, I DO need all those bras (‘Don’t be ridiculous, how many boobs do you have?! Take a couple max’ A COUPLE. TWO. HAHAHAHA. Underwear is not a luxury!). Anyway, as it turns out things were actually becoming a bit ridiculous, and I enlisted the Parentals’ help in Project ‘pack-life-into-case-for-six-months-within-Easyjet-dimensions’.

    A tip for anyone in this situation too would be to avoid these three words. Don’t even think about them. Not even for a second.

    Just.                In.                    Case.

    The weeks of summer I spent moping about the house, waiting for a day close enough to departure that it was acceptable to pack, I busied myself by sorting through clothes I could take, sorting them into piles of Yes/No/Hell No/Maybe, taking them in and out of my suitcase. It gradually amounted to piles extending on top of the case, across my bed, reaching my floor-drobe. Bit of an ish.

    Dad: ‘Lay everything out on a sheet in the living room, and then you can see what you’ve got.’ Subconsciously I was trying to avoid this. There are just SO many things. Why does one person need all these things? But I need all these things! Don’t I? Why am I so materialistic/selfish/indecisive that I need all these things?! Anxiety and critical analysis of my persona ensued.

    It’s been a long afternoon, but by some kind of miracle (thanks Dad!), I now have a full case with one Kg to spare. When it comes down to it, packing reveals a lot about someone’s character. After I was told to ‘Forget about the glamour!’ (Personally I don’t think taking straighteners and more than one perfume bottle is prima-donna behaviour), we had whittled my autumn wardrobe to trainers, sandals and flats (no fancy foot-wear for moi); jumpers and comfy tees, and essential items that I actually do need. For real this time. A rice cooker being one of them – it sounds silly, but it is a home comfort, I use it all the time, and because of my upbringing (my Mum comes from a generation of Thai rice farmers, SE ASIANS REPRESENT) I literally cannot go without good rice. It’s just a no-no for me.

    One thing I also cannot live without makes me feel about five years old. Dolly. She’s not being left behind. Take out the perfumes, the straighteners, the shoes, cause there’s always space for her.

    Don’t judge. I’m young at heart. It’s an endearing quality.  

    Giosue, Dolly and I just being fabulous

    Giosue, Dolly and I just being fabulous
  • Last-minute Limbo

    Last-minute Limbo

    Here’s the first entry, it’s a bit lengthy but give it a chance, I won’t be posting every minute of the day and will keep the Brit-abroad rants to a minimum, promise.  x

    Four days left. I’m itching to go; I have my euros, a place to stay and am pretty sure I printed my boarding pass as soon as you could. Have reached state of mind where everything on this end is done (I hope!) and I literally have no purpose at home apart from fridge-raiding. Don’t get me wrong, I love coming home for the summer, and seeing family and friends,  it’s just that Uni ended a while ago, and between the whole ordeal of finding a flat in Spain, and quitting work, I’ve found myself in a bit of a limbo.

    At first I’d describe it as a rut of procrastination (you know the deal, when you have so much to do that actually …sorry-not-sorry-don’t-have-time-too-busy-conducting-extensive-YouTube-video-research)… After finally coming to terms with my pending departure (this was a couple of months ago, which in all fairness, is a feat for someone who lives for last minute) I thought I’d better find a place to live, just to avoid the whole being homeless abroad sitch. There is actually an abundance of websites and Facebook groups listing hundreds of places of residence to choose from in Granada, so mistakenly I assumed this would be no mission; I didn’t think I was making diva demands – plain and simple, I was looking for a shared apartment/flat, preferably with Spanish-speakers, within max 20 mins walking distance of the faculty I’d be attending. Unfortunately it is much more difficult than first thought, but oddly I can’t give an exact reason why, there are so many places, but there are also plenty of other people looking, and the fact I’m only in Granada for 6 months was a major obstacle. I also think the new project of finding somewhere to stay (which involved a deadline, so needless to say, I was a wreck) had turned me into a crazed Goldilocks-esque character – too good a price to be true, too quiet, not close enough… In the end my dad had had enough of my stressing out – ‘JUST PICK ONE!’ and it turns out I found one of a distance that was just right (f.y.i. GoogleMaps has been my best friend throughout this flat search drama, and I can honestly say I recognise almost every street name in the Plaza de Toros/Cartuja area in Granada. Yes I do realise how sad that is.)

    Meanwhile, going through the various ERASMUS Facebook groups and posting adverts on sites like EasyPiso a sense of panic arose; I can’t even write a simple paragraph without doubting my ability to use Spanish – is that too formal? Should I say that? Does that sound Spanish-y enough?

    Oh my god. How am I actually going to be able to TALK to real Spanish people? I started to receive responses as these thoughts set in, referring to WordReference and online translators JUST IN CASE I had read or written something out of context – I mean, this is serious stuff, like: Is the room free? Will you let me stay for just 6 months? PLEASE? How do I pay a deposit? Can I pay it now? GIVE ME THE ROOM!!

    …

     as it turns out exchanging emails with potential flatmates/landlords is a great way to revise. Let’s just hope throwing myself in the deep end in non-virtual, actual, real-life Spain pays off as well.

    In all seriousness, for those looking for a place to stay, particularly in Granada, I’d recommend using EasyPiso, or Milanuncios, the first site actually updates you with emails everyday on possible flats suited to your requirements. Alternatively or additionally try posting on Facebook groups – I received a few responses and the people I spoke to actually helped massively in my search.

     I’d also recommend revising during the summer before heading out there, which is advice I should have taken myself tbh. Don’t worry about me though guys, just dug out my ‘Acción Gramática’ from the various crates of toot I haven’t unpacked yet from Uni… ALL SET!