Sammy Wandering Abroad

Tag: erasmus

  • Uni Galz On Tour Part 1: FOUR IN A BED

    Uni Galz On Tour Part 1: FOUR IN A BED

    Even though university was getting a bit ‘meh’ in Granada (poo hadn’t quite hit the fan at this point), I still found myself completely enamoured by Spain and the astounding city I was lucky enough to call home.

    During my time at university in Portsmouth I was #blessed (and still am!) to have a close group of girlfriends (and not forgetting Casalooch). Being the only one of the ‘uni galz’ to take a course with a year abroad, I found myself missing out on third year house fun (we shared a house in second year and I can honestly say those girls got me through – the coursework; the mice; the stressful part-time job). If I’m honest I was so excited to be abroad that I was trying to forget the fact I was leaving behind my friends, and would actually have to *gasp* make new ones. In a way I was jealous that they all got to stay together and continue Uni antics without me; hangovers, rodents and all. It came as great news to me therefore, that five of them were planning to make a visit to España (Ellie it’s okay, I don’t hold it against you, but you missed out on good kebab) – OLÉ! To say I was looking forward to it would have been a massive understatement.

    Mis chicas
    Mis chicas

    The night before the girls’ flight I travelled to Malaga to stay with Joshua and, as was the ritual, he cooked Carbonara, we drank wine, and then caught up on how Uni was going (not well), how money was going (WHERE is it going?!) and how our Spanish was coming along (better…with wine).

    He had told the girls he would meet them at the airport when they arrived, before they all planned to bus it up to Granada together. As a surprise I decided to come along as well, and as we came out of the train station just opposite the airport, we could make out a group of weary travellers. At this point I hid behind Joshua as he strode towards them *cue girly screams*. So overcome with emotion, I ended up doing the slow-mo-long-distance embrace with Liz and attacked the others with equally expressive hugs and ‘IT’S BEEN SO LONG I’VE MISSED YOU’s. You could have told me otherwise, but for the four days they visited, it was my birthday weekend. Five of my TOP FRIENDS had come to see ME and we were all going to get drunk and have a merry old time in Spain.

    Stupid Selfies
    House love
    Cheese
    #funsies

    Priorities first though. From what I understood the girls had not gotten much sleep on their flight, and they had travelled all the way from Pompey at too-early-o’clock in a cab to the airport. They would now have to endure a train, coach, then cab journey to mine… With this realisation we took the next train back to central Malaga, and FOOD.

    After chowing down on some burgers (“Sam, how do you say chicken with lots of mayo?”) we moved on from Malaga to mi nueva ciudad. When we finally arrived at Casa de Monos the girls seemed impressed with my building, and my flat (“Oh my god, it looks just like the one in Taken!”), although the space in my bedroom I had once thought was more-than-enough was now rather questionable… I had made a bid for the flat’s spare mattresses in advance, and after a bit of ‘Changing-Rooms’ type interior design, managed to turn my abode into the Sleepover Club. It made for an interesting night, and those who did not like snuggles (or my snoring) had to put up with it. We were 21 going on 12, and I was updated on all the goss I had missed from third year so far, and in return was obliged to spill the beans on what Erasmus life was really like “Sam do you even go to Uni?” “I’ve seen you go to the beach a lot” “Have you made many friends?” “Any Spanish friends?” “All you do is go out isn’t it?” Nuff with the third degree guys. We had planned to go out that night but everyone was shattered from the cab, plane, train, coach, cab (plus being Top Lad, poor Nicola had been out on the town the night before, POST-hockey match) so we saved our energy for the next day…

    Reunited
    Reunited
  • #homecomforts – Tips for Surviving Homesickness

    #homecomforts – Tips for Surviving Homesickness

    Probably not the most cringe/cheesy/OMG Kill Me Now Pls Facebook status I’ve ever published whilst intoxicated, but it’s definitely up there.

    I wrote this a month into my stay in Granada. Pathetic as the title reads, I didn’t miss home per se; la vida Erasmus doesn’t allow it; there are just too many things to do and see, and in the first month I was completely lost to Spain and its way of life. There were only moments, I found, when visiting a place would stir a memory, or when things that seemed a little difficult abroad felt near enough impossible when compared to HOW EASY IT IS AT HOME. In coping with this feeling that cropped up from time-to-time, I found ways to avoid succumbing to total ‘GET ME ON A PLANE HOME NOW’ meltdown mode:

    • DO NOT dwell on things that are better/easier/not as problematic at home. You are NOT at home; get accustomed to your new situation and deal with it.
    Pompey Uni I’ll Never Take You For Granted Again
    • DO make yourself busy. You’re hardly going to be thinking of Friday night’s pub quiz or Mum’s roast dinner when on a beach or climbing a mountain, are you?
    Not thinking about roast dinners
    Not thinking about roast dinners
    • DO NOT feel bad if you want to mope around. It is okay to spend a day in your cave of a room (mine had shutters that literally turned it pitch black), watching Disney movies and scoffing Pringles. Just don’t make it a habit. Give yourself a break, get it out of your system, and move on.
    Dobby in her cave
    Screw Uni, let’s eat sandwiches
    • DO try something different. Embrace your new surroundings and make it your goal to become part of where you are. Change yourself to settle into your new life better; you’ll probably find yourself doing that unintentionally anyway.
    Running, throwing paint and drinking beer is pretty different
    Being Spanish with my Spanish girl, Botellón, Granada
    • DO stock up on plenty of teabags, or whatever your go-to comfort is.
    or Mama's Spring Rolls
    or Mama’s Spring Rolls
    • DO get productive; join a gym, find a tandem/intercambio partner, book a trip, or even do the readings for your next literature class. Doing something there will feel twice as much of an achievement and you’ll be too engrossed to miss home. Writing it all down will help too.
    Exploring Ronda
    English Gals visit la capital
    • DO find your local Irish pub, in my case, Paddy’s, a fine establishment in which this legendary status was written. It served as a home from home when Spanish culture became a bit too overwhelming. Tony the barman would keep the cocktails coming and the 80’s tunes playing, plus there was a cracking kebaby opposite.
    'Tony, I'll be right back. I'm making toast'
    ‘Tony, I’ll be right back. I’m making toast’
    • DO surround yourself with people who make you feel happy. Misery loves company and is a dangerous route to depression.
    Dobby and Badger
    Chillin’ with Hall & Oates
    • DO avoid Skype, use SMS instead. I skyped my family a good amount while on my year abroad, but sometimes I was really lagging, especially at the beginning.
    Dad thinks he’s really funny

    “SAM WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU STILL IN SPAIN? ARE YOU EATING?!” Genuine Mum response to the first video-call I had made in a while.

    I tried to explain to them that the time to worry was not when I had gone A.W.O.L, but when I was constantly calling. In November my language had hit a plateau, my confidence was at an all-time-low and Uni was a big stinking pile of poo, not to mention the landlord was being an absolute *Insert preferred expletive here*. For this, Mum and Dad were being pestered by me 24/7 via Skype, email, text, and fax, had they owned a machine. Actually being able to see their worried faces through the computer screen made the feeling of homesickness so real, and the distance between us even greater. I don’t say stop video-calling altogether, just avoid it if it’s going to make you miss home more. And don’t forget to contact loved ones altogether; you may be busy, but they still need to know if you’re being fed and watered.

    Skype Silliness
    Skype Silliness

    My Dad was the recipient of many “Sorry! Don’t worry, I’m still alive, just busy!” texts, and that was sufficient enough. To which he would reply:

    “Glad you’re having a good time, we miss you, I’m in The Portrait.”

    Missing out on a pint. Typical.

  • Saved by Der Wasserkocher

    Saved by Der Wasserkocher

    Did you know that the Spanish do not have a word for kettle? In fact, the majority I met had never seen one before in their lives.

    If you think that is outrageous, be prepared for the following confession…

    It had been six days in Spain before I had a cup of tea. SIX WHOLE DAYS. And this is because we had finally got gas and therefore hot water in the flat *rejoice*, so it still meant waiting for a saucepan of water to boil before I could enjoy my long-awaited cuppa. My reaction (“ERMEHGERD IT’S AMAAAAZING!”) was met with looks of shock and wonder, and perhaps a better understanding of how important tea is to an English girl, which I didn’t quite realise myself until my flatmate, Chris, placed a ‘Wasserkocher’ (A KETTLE GUYS, A KETTLE!) in our kitchen. I think I almost cried.

    Going through old notebooks from my Granada Uni days, I came across scribbled conversations between myself and my Mancuniun mate/neighbour/drinking partner/moral-support-in-class companion, Helen. These had obviously been written during the class of History of Contemporary Literature of Spain in the Golden Age or some poncy culture module aka we hated it and had no idea why we’d signed up for it.

     

    How are we ever gonna pass this year? Wahh

     

    I’m gonna fail, for sure. I don’t even wanna think about Italy

     

    I am here for a year so I better be fluent by the end – unlikely

     

    You defo will, your Spanish is good now!

    NO

    YES. I can’t even order tapas without some sassy Spaniard going QUÉ

     

    Well they’re just being rude – I can always understand you

     

    Aw <3 I did a really trampy thing today. I don’t have teabags. So when I went to the bakery I ordered a tea, drank it when I got back, and I really wanted another.

    So I boiled water and used the same teabag.

     

    Scandalous – why haven’t you bought any? Still!

     

    Because I couldn’t find it in Día and Sunday it was closed :’(

     

    You should have come down to mine – I have PG Tips

     

    Being British Birds

     

    What a Babe.

     

    And slightly desperada on my part. The fact that I’ve managed to dedicate a blog post to a humble mug of English tea (no sugars, I’m sweet enough) says something. When it comes down to it, it’s the little things that count isn’t it? A cup of tea is not just a hot beverage; it is the end of a long day, a well-needed natter with friends, and for me, a pick-me-up when home is just that bit too far away.

    Spanish of the Golden Age/Dream Interpretation
    Spanish of the Golden Age/Dream Interpretation

     

     

  • Honey, I’m home/en casa/ zu Hause/thuis zijn

    Honey, I’m home/en casa/ zu Hause/thuis zijn

    4° Izquierda. Sonnentanz was our jam, Brasilia was our hangout.

    Finding digs in Granada was not the easiest of tasks for me, as some of you well know, but I arrived in the new city and found myself not living with just Spaniards, as promised (the landlord promised a lot of things, but I’m still waiting for my €350), instead I was one of six in our international flat, and I loved it.

    Pick One

    Pick One

    A day in Casa de Monos, the name given to our Erasmus community building (later renamed ‘de problemos’), involved yelling at each other across the courtyard, grand flat meals (be it German, Portuguese, Colombian, Spanish, etc), everyday tapas outings and intense studying… of national drinking games.

     

    Courtyard Cocina
    Pretty Portuguesa
    Jacoby gets shunned to the courtyard

    Meeting  new people is always an interesting experience, but hanging out and living with those from other countries/cultures made moving to Granada all the more unique, and relieved somewhat the pressure of being ‘the foreigner in a new land’ – we were all from different places and all trying to integrate. I say this but I suppose we stuck out like a sore thumb whilst exploring the city.

                     “You looking for fiesta tonight? Five euro, dos copas!”

    The University of Granada receives a massive intake of Erasmus students each year, and the building I called home was an example of the mixed demographic present in the city. Although heavily populated by us studying foreigners, Granada was/is/will also continue to be a place that tourists from the world over flock to see. The city has so many personalities that it’s no wonder so many people visiting feel right at home there. I certainly did.

     

    My European Bros
    Flat Famliy Outing
    Feliz Año Nuevo

    Plaza de Toros: the best value tapas in town.

    Where in the world can you get a (decent-sized) burger, fries and beer for just over €2? Ridiculous as it sounds, it was cheaper to eat out than it was to cook *student heaven*. Living opposite the Plaza de Toros, we had a good selection of tapas bars at our disposal; the faves being Nido del Buho, Brasilia (I and II) and Estrella. Another upside of where we were was of course the bullring itself. Whether or not you agree with Spain’s on-going controversial tradition of bullfighting, there’s no denying the history and iconic status of this building. I never actually managed to attend a bullfight whilst in Spain (I would have liked to have gone just once for the experience), but I do remember taking a nap one afternoon on our living room sofa, and being woken up to the screeching cries of young (hysteric) Spanish girls. Pablo Alborán was playing a live concert from the Plaza de Toros apparently. And I got to hear the whole thing (for free!).

    The plaza itself has built-in cafes and bars – I was a fan of the chain La Sureña  in particular; a bucket of five ice cold beers for three euros? Ideal! Another place I remember was Magic, the Plaza’s salsa club, where my flatmate (and fabulous dancing queen!) Lisa would go often, and in the beginning of la Vida Erasmus, I tagged along a few times. There, la magia happened, and I forgot how to dance. You know? That feeling. Everyone had their groove on, Lisa was in her element, being twirled and strutted across the Latin beats dance-floor by a handsome Cuban, and I had turned into a total bloke. Into the shadows of the darkest corner of the bar, away from rhythmic couples; holding on tight to my copa, silently praying no one would approach me and my two left feet. If anyone stepped too close I was prepared: “NO POOWEDO  BAYLAAR!”. Turns out I was just standing in the way of the loos.

     

    El salón
    Long after Pablo had left the building

    Still, even if salsa ain’t your thing, and you find yourself being shyer than you realised, I would recommend taking a look anyway to see it done, and done well. Maybe have a go if you’re brave enough (or had enough tequilas); worse comes to worst you’ll enjoy treading on a few toes to a reggaeton salsa beat.

  • ‘Nit Noi’

    ‘Nit Noi’

    Two little utterances that have brought me more shame than anything else in my twenty two years.  The amount of times I have used this phrase is beyond the point of embarrassing, and every time I do, a half smile and awkward silence proceeds, whilst memories flood back of missed opportunities and that familiar feeling of helplessness.

    Nit Noi is Thai for ‘a little bit’ and is basically my go-to response/#1 fave Thai catchphrase when asked if I speak the language. After every visit to my mother’s motherland the answer is always the same. Which makes the next question even better; ‘What do you study?’ ‘Languages’ *Cue perplexed expression*

    Yeah, I know right, just not one of my own languages.

    I’ve listed my excuses; in fact, I’ve probably spent more time defending myself as to why I can’t speak it instead of actually attempting to.

    1. I am studying Spanish AND Italian; this is enough to cope with especially for someone as scatty as myself – can you imagine how difficult it is to study a Spanish module in an Italian university when the professor himself switches language without warning? Did I mention he definitely spoke Castilian with a Dolmio accent?
    2. Despite Mum’s best efforts to speak only Thai to me at home, it is easier (not to mention much quicker) for me to respond in English, and most of the time I am not at home
    3. There is a different alphabet – what should I do, learn to read/write or speak first?
    4. I’ve got plenty of time to learn it

    Truth is, I wasn’t worried about keeping it up before, and now I find myself in the same embarrassing position as always, phrasebook in hand, playing a game of charades, trying to ask Khun Yai (grandma) what’s for breakfast. Awks?  Not even. It’s just plain upsetting.  Why?

    Time. Time is such bastard isn’t it. Scuze my French, or any other language I can’t speak LOL. My Erasmus year has been so eye opening and, frankly, I think I would be extremely lucky if I ever get the chance to experience something like it again. It just goes by SO quickly. And this is coming from someone who managed to stay abroad for more than a year. Everyone said, ‘Don’t forget to update your blog, I’ll be looking to see what you’re up to’

    …

    Well. It’s me isn’t it.

    If you don’t know me, and on the off chance you had stumbled upon my just-about-there blog, you’d have gotten the impression I’d run away with a Spaniard or, more likely, fell in the sea after one too many Sangrias, before I even got the chance to fly to Italy. ITALY. Yes, I did make it there, and, as part of my new found motivation to get up off my pizza-based arse (THE FOOD THERE BY THE WAY WAS INCRED, I WILL BE POSTING PICS) and do something productive, I am starting up this writing business again, so now memories of Granada and Modena will be posted on the regular. That’s a promise I’m more than reluctant to break.

    Here’s me at the beach, not falling in the sea
    Maybe after one too many mojitos
    This is just one of OH so many

    I’ve scolded myself enough times for being predictable Sam – start things and don’t finish them; with Thai (you know, I once spoke it fluently way back when, and even held a Hua Hin dialect), with Spanish/Italian (it has taken me bloody long enough to be able to speak beyond-ordering-pastries-from-bakery level) and with blogging, which is evident from the number/lack of posts you see before you.

    However, I’d like to cut myself and others in my predicament a little slack. I am not lazy. Sure I can be at times, but that is not my general attitude. In fact, I am far from it. My Dad says I have a problem.

    “You always try to fit two pints into a one pint pot.”

    It’s true, I try to do everything at once, and sometimes, a lot of the time, it’s just not possible, but why not try? From my point of view, it’s not a bad mindset to have, in fact, I prefer to believe that ‘life is what happens while you are busy making other plans’. Too damn straight. Rather I was living, embracing all the opportunities thrown my way on my year abroad, than waste the precious time I had to record snippets of my experiences, which might not have been otherwise.

    As for the case of my dire pidgin Thai, I’m working on it. It’s nowhere near good enough now, but one thing I’ve learnt from Erasmus, and something that’s shocked me in more ways than one, is the realisation of priorities.  Embarrassed as I am to claim Thai nationality without acquisition of its language, I am studying for a degree in Spanish and Italian, which is what needs to be (well) worked on first.  This doesn´t mean I can’t take a little time out to study Thai on the side, and by no means will it stop me from miming and blurting out random words across the breakfast table to bewildered relatives.

    Going Back To Our Roots
    Going Back To Our Roots

    In terms of writing, I owe it to the memories made on my year abroad **sorry for mushy ERASMUS YAHR WAS SUCH AN ENRICHING EXPERIENCE YAR talk** to document them as best I can. However, I will not apologise for using the time the way I did – the friends I made are those I will keep for life, time I spent with these individuals in unfamiliar locations proved invaluable to life learning, oh and on top of that, my language improved YAY! I didn’t record these moments as much then because I was too busy living them, but at least I can do that now.

    Dad is right. There is not enough time to do everything, but if you try and make the very most out of what time you have, then I don’t think that’s such bad shout.

  • Going A.W.O.L in Grana’a

    Going A.W.O.L in Grana’a

    I’m going back to England in 6 days.

    I’ve had to set my WordPress password more than a few times.

    I think I did the typical ERASMUS thing again.

    I don’t know how this happened.

    Spain, man.

    Puesta de sol en Granada
    Puesta de sol en Granada

     

    Granada is overwhelming, to say the least. Ashamedly I have failed to make a consistent record of my experiences here, so in order to redeem myself and this sorry state of internet space, I’m going to write the backlog of my stay here; from beachin’ excursions right up until the days of woolly hats and broken heaters. That’s right people. Get ready for major news-feed spamming.

     P.S. to all friends and family following my blog, I am alive and well, all be it in desperate need of a Slankie, chocolate covered Hobnobs and cider.

  • 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!