Eso es todo, amigos

As I'm writing this it’s New Year’s Eve – or Nochevieja, literally ‘old night’ – and therefore, I thought, as good a time as any for some end-of-year reflection. It also happens to be exactly one year since I arrived – alone, jet-lagged (no partying for me that nochevieja), and grinning ear-to-ear – to the beautiful and chaotic mess that is Spain.

2015 really has been an amazing and enriching experience, and I'm not just saying that because, well, that's what you say after a year abroad. The year wasn't everything I’d hoped or expected it to be, but that’s okay; in place of those unfulfilled expectations I got what I believe to be real cultural immersion, simply by letting Spain happen. And anyway, why would one even want to know what to expect out of an entire year of adventures in a new and unexplored place?

It’s funny how we set ourselves up for failure as far as regret is concerned: we write bucket lists, make Pinterest boards, set resolutions… all of which are great in principle but only serve to constantly remind us how much we have not achieved. This feeling is certainly not helped by the endless feed of perfectly crafted moments and stories we’re confronted with every time we open Facebook or Instagram. I get that we need lists and goals to keep us focused and motivated, I really do. (No really; I have my own embarrassingly over-researched Google Map of Madrid with over 200 colour-coordinated pins.) But what about a retrospective list? What about a list of all the great moments which just ended up happening, regardless of whether they were planned, photographed, or shared?

So this is my list; my little nod to 2015 to say “You were pretty great”.

I finally learnt another language, properly this time. Knowing how prone to regret I am, I made sure to get on that plane with only ONE non-negotiable goal: learn Spanish. That way, even when I succumbed to little bouts of regret or doubt, I knew I was ultimately succeeding in what I’d come to do. What’s more, favouring one goal over a huge bucket list ended up guiding a lot of my decisions and shaped my year in many simple yet crucial ways. It was what brought me to a house full of Spaniards, what deterred me from going to international parties, what forced me to choose tricky linguistic subjects in Spanish second semester, and what encouraged me to go to so many language exchanges. Above all else, learning Spanish simply enabled me to connect more; as a people person, nothing gave me more joy than gradually being able to unlock more and more different social situations as my fluency improved. Although I may not have recognised it at the time, these little peeks into Spanish life flavoured my year and shaped it into the immersive experience that it was.

I didn't travel as frequently as most exchange students – finance was obviously a factor, as well as my desire to really get to know my own little corner of Spain – but when I did I made it count. During the summer break I travelled a bit of Eastern Europe by myself, before meeting up with my family for Norway and northern Spain. I also went on day hiking and sightseeing trips near Madrid, spent a week camping at a Spanish musical festival, and celebrated Easter with Álvaro's family on their farm. I truly believe travelling is about the little things, but if I had to pick highlights, they would be: hiking, cycling, and lakeside picnicking with fellow backpackers in Slovenia, possibly the most gorgeous and underrated country I have ever been; reuniting with my childhood best friend Tara after three years and wandering, cycling and swimming all over Mljet Island in Croatia, talking non-stop for five days; strolling through the magical village of Albarracín in Spain with my new friend Colleen; meeting cool people in Zadar, Croatia and watching the sunset every evening from the sea organ; and snow-shoeing on Folgefonna Glacier in Norway on a beautiful summer’s day.

Don’t get me wrong, I had my lazy weeks, filled with too much routine and not enough adventure. I remember my first few months here though, when I threw myself at every opportunity, pushing myself to take chances I normally wouldn't. Not every chance paid off, but some led to new friendships, unique cultural experiences, and memorable adventures. The best bit was realising how easy carpe diem really is; it’s really just about saying yes. Okay so I had some shitty times, some lonely times, some times when I was saying no left right and centre and as a result probably missed out on a million great opportunities and interactions. But the beautiful thing about seizing the day is that every time you do it, you are rewarded, regardless of how many days, weeks or months you may have wasted by saying no.

This time last year I was eager to leave 2014 and Australia behind, to focus on ‘getting back to being me’ (whatever that means), to have fun, to try new things, and to get rid of all the negativity I had allowed to build up inside of me. Would calling 2015 my ‘Detox Year’ be a little too dramatic? Quite possibly. But in all honesty, as isolating as being away from everything and starting afresh was at times, it forced me to think out some of the bigger issues (future! identity! relationships!) and gain some clarity on who I am and where I want to take things from here.

I will miss this country and its beautiful people; I have never felt as homesick for Australia as I know I will for Spain. But perhaps it is because Spain feels like home now that I am ready to move on. Even though the next adventure seems, on paper, all-too-familiar – inner-west Sydney, university, Australian culture, old friends and family – I'm still incredibly excited. I'm looking forward to the beautiful weather, going on a kayak trip with Dad, bumping into people I know on campus, bushwalking with friends, and even (oklet’sbehonestespecially) returning to my true nerdy self in Linguistics. And, of course, all the wonderful surprises that I know 2016 will throw at me as I go along.

"Estoy más a gusto que un arbusto" / "I'm more at ease/content than a bush" - ...or something along those lines, obviously the Spanish has more of a ring to it because of the rhyming! Manu taught me this one a few months back at home, and it quickly went on the la pizarra (the whiteboard) of new phrases. I'm not sure what I love more; the ridiculous imagery of a bush being 'at ease', or the knowledge that the strange English translation is exactly the kind of silly thing my friends Melissa, Adrienne and I would have said during high school.

"escoba" / "broom" - Couldn't for the life of me remember this simple word until I started reading Harry Potter in Spanish, which I am really enjoying. Other useful additions to my vocab include "varita" (wand), "las mazmoras" (the dungeons), and "Señor Tenebroso" (the Dark Lord)!

"De perdidos al río" / literally "From lost to the river" - Love this expression! It's another one of those phrases which simply doesn't translate, but because it's so common in Spanish, I've heard on several occasions its literal translation from Spaniards speaking English. From what I can gather it means something like 'having gone this far, may as well go all in', somewhat similar to "In for a penny, in for a pound".

Although I have a dozen half-written entries which I would love to finish one day, this will probably be my last post. Thanks to everyone who read my entries and sent me messages with encouragement and comments, it really meant a lot and made writing so enjoyable :) Hasta luego! Xx

El Palacio Real on a gorgeous sunny day trip to Aranjuez

Snow-shoeing on the Folgefonna Glacier in Norway!

Maybe not the most attractive photo, but what the hell: me in Salamanca after spending an awesome weekend with my housemate Ana's family in Valladolid

Why I love languages

People often ask me – and sometimes I ask myself – why I am studying languages. And, specifically, why Korean; I rarely get “Why Spanish?”. I can sometimes sense my choice to study Korean being regarded as pointless and even self-indulgent, despite the important geographical and business link between Australia and South Korea, and the huge Korean population living in Sydney. But that’s a discussion for another day. I have already briefly explained my language-learning journey, but basically, let’s just say I was a late-bloomer. If it hadn't been for my French and Latin teachers telling me I had a flair for languages, I wouldn't have even continued past Year 7. What can I say, I'm a sucker for flattery.

Usually, people discover and develop their passion at an early age. You rarely hear of a writer, musician, chef or athlete who weren't well on their way to success or at least proficiency by their teens. So why, as a monolingual 19 year old with only Latin and a smattering of Hindi and Spanish under my belt, did I decide to study a Bachelor of Languages? I'm still not sure if, career-wise, it will lead anywhere, and I fully accept that in a world so full of multilinguals, I am unlikely to ever work in translation or interpretation. I had this harsh but necessary wake-up call in my first year of uni when a Korean friend, also curious as to why I was learning Korean, pointed out that I would never be as fluent and therefore qualified as the tens of thousands of bilingual Korean-Australians. Perhaps it's not as simple as that, but essentially, he’s right. 

But back to the question; why learn languages? You see, there are two lines of follow-up. If I'm learning languages as skills, why bother so late in the game? Or why bother at all: doesn't the whole world speak English now anyway? And if I'm learning as a hobby, why waste my time and money doing it in university?  

This last question, to be fair, is something which I suspect many Arts students hear on a regular basis. As more and more people receive higher education, and the job market becomes increasingly competitive, the idea of ‘learning for learning’s sake’ is considered outdated and unviable. In a society where money and success are valued over knowledge, it's understandable that tertiary education is viewed as a means to an end (that end being, of course, a steady income). I'm surrounded by friends doing career-oriented degrees such as engineering, pharmacy, and teaching, and when I compare my degree to theirs, I'll admit, I do feel a bit directionless. I can't even claim any great love for my Spanish or Korean courses; I'm spending a lot of time and money on what essentially amounts to 3 contact hours each per week with unenthusiastic teachers and English-speaking classmates, time and money which could have been used to fly to a Spain or South Korea, if bilingualism was really all I cared about. This is where Linguistics plays a big part, as that is a subject I really would have struggled to study outside of uni. The courses at Usyd are excellent, run by teachers who make learning a pure joy. I enjoy the classes, readings, and even (sometimes especially!) the homework. (Sorry guys, you already knew I was a nerd!) Studying what I love at university means that, even if I don’t end up incorporating it into my career – although I hope I do! – I'm building the foundations for what I know will be a life-long interest.

So that’s the hobby, follow-my-passion, Arts-student side of things. Then there’s the idea of language as a practical and useful skill, like being able to ski, bake a cake, or do algebra. Time and time again I hear “Spanish gives you so many countries”, “Latin is a dead language”, or “Everyone speaks English anyway”. But these statements assume that the relevance of learning a language depends on how many countries and people it puts you in contact with, the objective therefore being to cover the most surface area. This is so entirely missing the point! OK, obviously if you are overseas or otherwise trying to communicate with someone who doesn't speak your language, the sheer ability to speak theirs, or a lingua franca like English (providing they speak it too), will make life a whole lot easier, logistically-speaking. However that shouldn't be the only motivation for learning a language; they are not just tools of communication. Although I probably sound like a broken record by now, I swear, languages are windows to cultures. I wholeheartedly believe that whether you’re a linguist or not, learning a bit of – or even about – the local language can do nothing but enhance your travel experiences and relationships. We all know that people appreciate the efforts of tourists who try to learn a few key phrases, but I think many underestimate just how positive an effect it can have on us too.

Language also reveals and even influences peoples' ways of thinking and viewing the world. Not all concepts and ideas are translatable, and what one person might consider an essential, simple concept that 'surely everyone must have', another might not even have a way of expressing and therefore understanding it. If you don’t believe me, read a little about colour words in languages. Although the topic provokes some debate, it's an easy example of how intrinsically linked language and thought are. By attempting to understand these different ways of conceptualising and understanding the world, we open our minds to new ideas, concepts, values, and cultural behaviours. Languages exercise your brain, take incredible persistence, and confront you with your own ethnocentrism.

Also, although the spread of English may be inevitable, the more we resist it, the greater chance we have of saving languages from extinction. If you consider how vital language is in transmitting and reflecting culture and ideas, can you imagine how devastating it would be to have your own language – your unique way of seeing and expressing the world – become extinct, considered 'redundant'? I can't even begin to understand what these communities – many of which are in Australia itself (check out the Ethnologue for exact figures, it's mind-boggling), and have fascinating linguistic features – must go through when their language dies. The more globalised we become, the less diverse. Does anyone seriously want the whole world to speak the same language? Personally, I can't imagine anything more dull.

If the only benefit you see in learning languages is to break down communication barriers, then my only proper success would be Spanish, as it is the only language – asides from English, of course – in which I am able to converse with relative ease. However I don’t regret any of the time I spent learning or even just researching other languages. Why does it always have to be so all-or-nothing, and why is the only question that seems to matter “How many languages do you speak?”? So many of my language-related experiences remain with me still as precious memories or important lessons: my Hindi lessons with Pintu-Ji in Varanasi, which led to being able to confidently haggle and joke with rickshaw drivers, being invited into our neighbours’ homes and fed samosas, and many hours in the kitchen learning tricks from the elderly women who cooked at our school; all the exciting sociolinguistics I learnt in first year uni, which led me to discover the world of linguistics; understanding and abiding by (or trying to!) Korean customs and social norms during my time in Seoul, thanks to the ‘Cultural notes’ section of my textbook; my linguistics project on Singlish, for which I even carried out my own experiment; and even those six supposed 'wasted' years spent learning a dead language, ie. Latin, which demonstrated to me how beautifully complex and fun language can be, its intricate grammar like a code or maths problem waiting to be solved. Does it matter that these languages come and go, and that I still basically consider myself monolingual? I think not.

For me, my passion for languages and linguistics lies somewhere between hobby and skill. It's both academic and practical, independent and interactive, fun and challenging. The more I learn, the more I understand other people and cultures, on a quite literal, communicative level, but also in terms of understanding how they see the world. More than anything, I study to broaden my mind to new concepts and ways of thinking, and to learn all that these 'windows' have to offer.

“el/la sujetavelas” / “third wheel”, although literally, “candle holder”... I think?! – I just love that Spanish has this concept, same as English, but expresses it using different imagery. (Now I'm suddenly curious as to what it is in other languages... let me know below.) Anyway, I've been searching online and asking my housemates for the literal explanation, but came up with nothing... could it refer to the old days when couples were chaperoned, and perhaps that chaperon stood between the two carrying a candle? Again, if you know, please enlighten me!

"hacer ranitas" / "To skip stones", although literally something like, "to make little frogs" – Isn't that a poetic way of describing it? During my Easter at my friend Álvaro's property in Extremadura, I spent one or two afternoons with his family and family friends, hanging out by the lake. We would chat, play with the remote-control sailboats, skip stones, and ride the quad bikes around. I made a corona de margaritas (daisy crown) and life was good.

"Mejor solo/a que mal acompañado/a" / "Better alone than in bad company" – This is a saying I learnt in el aula de Monte Esquinza (the classroom of Monte Esquinza, ie. my kitchen). This is the place where I chat with my housemates the most, and as such learn a lot of 'real Spanish'. Initially I thought I should keep note of everything new in my little book, but that was quite overwhelming, so I've learnt now to just listen, ask questions, and let the new words sink in naturally. Every now and again though I learn a new idiom or saying which I just need to write down, so for that I put a little whiteboard on the fridge. This particular saying came up in a conversation about the benefits of travelling alone, but I think it could be applied to many aspects of life.

"Se enrolla como una persiana" / literally "To roll up like a Venetian blind"?? – I’m not really sure how to translate this one, but I love it! It’s a gem of a phrase I learnt from my funny, kind-hearted Spanish teacher, Beatriz. It basically refers to someone who talks too much when telling stories or explaining something, going on and on and adding unnecessary details. I knew I had to remember it as it seems to be a common infliction in my family – and I'm one of the culprits, as you can see!

After such a long hiatus, I of course have many more new phrases, but I think this post is already more than long enough so... ¡hasta luego!

Gorgeous, gorgeous Asturias in the north of Spain <3

Amig@s

Ahh! I have been sitting on this topic for at least a month now, unmotivated and embarrassed to finish it. Apologies in advance if this reads a bit like a primary schooler’s journal, but today I’m talking about that universal practice of making friends.

First, a little preamble (read: a lot). For someone who once listed ‘people’ as one of her top three passions in life (the others being music and language) in a scholarship application, I haven’t been all that outgoing over the last year. 2014 drove me into a state of hibernation, one in which I greedily guarded what scarce free-time I had as me-time. I guess it was what I thought I needed, but that doesn’t mean it was easy or fun for either me or my friends. When New Year's Day 2015 came around, however, I was ready to dive head-and-heart first into the Spanish culture and language; full of optimism, thirsty for knowledge, and itching to meet new people and try new things. Since then, I have tried to live by three golden rules: 1) Respect everyone, 2) Take risks and chances, and 3) Don’t regret not having done something. And they’ve served me pretty well so far.

Despite my previous post about feeling awkward in Spanish – which still stands – as a general rule, I’m not one to feel anxious over social interactions or meeting new people. And although I am independent and perfectly able – happy, even – to travel alone, reminiscing alone is not so fun, and memories unshared can quickly become memories forgotten. At the end of the day, I'm an extrovert, and am almost always happier around people. There's really nothing more enjoyable than the simple pleasure of being engrossed in conversation with a new acquaintance, sharing a moment of solidarity with a complete stranger, or laughing over nothing with your best friend. 

The thing is, making new friends can be serious hard work. If you’re lucky, the whole thing just happens naturally, and before you know it you’ve fallen into a steady rhythm of easy companionship. But for international students who find themselves in a situation where they don’t know anyone and have got to make friends ASAP, the need to forge bonds is more urgent and, as a result, forced, I feel. Unfortunately, unlike back in Sydney where there seems to be endless clubs, societies and events in which students (domestic and international alike) can get to know one another, in Spain (or at least at my university), there is nothing of the sort. What’s more, degrees here are far more specialised than in Australia, and students end up having class with more or less the same people each year, much like in high school. Needless to say, groups here are tight, although to be fair, one can hardly blame locals for not wanting to open up to yet another exchange student who’s just going to love them and leave them after a few months.

The overwhelming majority of friend-making opportunities, therefore, are restricted to Erasmus (the international student network) events. I’ll be honest; I’ve been avoiding these like the plague. I went to a couple of language exchanges to practice my Spanish, which were actually quite fun, but the parties (one of which had the slogan – I kid you not – ‘F*** me, I’m Erasmus’) just did not appeal. Perhaps my attitude towards the network is cynical and unwarranted, but either way I knew I was not going to let this be my one-and-only way of meeting new people. Hence I decided to cast my ‘friendship net’ out, for want of a better metaphor, make lots of acquaintances, and be patient.

The whole thing really is a lot like dating. I’ve met people through a whole array of sources – dance classes, on campus, MeetUp events, through mutual friends, and even, more recently, randomly in a café – but the process of actually becoming friends is usually the same. Meet new person, exchange numbers. Small talk, gauge interest level – be sure to use those emojis appropriately! Set up second meeting, and if it goes well, organise another. Et cetera. At first this ‘blind-dating’ style of making friends terrified me, but now I’m surprised by how easy it is, as long as both parties are open and willing. And this got me thinking: how many potential friendships do we let slip by in life, simply because we ‘have enough friends already’ (a common excuse for college kids like myself), are too lazy, shy, or suspicious to reach out, or are simply too stingy with time and/or money to grab a coffee after class? Or is it just me? I could kick myself thinking of all the missed opportunities – usually, I was just genuinely ignorant and didn’t even realise there was one. Even now I could list at least ten people with whom I could’ve become closer, had I viewed that acquaintance as a friend-in-the-making. For example; there was a Dutch exchange student in my Spanish class in first year (if you’re reading this Anthony – lo siento!). We got along really well and always had lots of fun in class, and yet afterwards I would always rush back to college for lunch, without ever thinking to invite him to coffee or a party at college. What kind of welcome was that to give to an international student?

If anyone except my Mum is reading – to what extent do you think this openness to new friendships is cultural? Or is it personal? Circumstantial? And to my international friends at Sydney Uni, what experiences have you had in class? Has it been easy to make friends (outside of college)? I don’t mean to sound like a Year 8 camp teamwork building exercise, but I’m genuinely curious!

Although I stopped blogging, I did not stop jotting down words and phrases in my little blue book, so here are a few:

“friki” / “geek” – ...or something similar, perhaps. I love learning words which can’t be found in the dictionary, and this one crops up so often that I’ve started using it too – although probably incorrectly! I’ve described myself as a “friki de lingüística/idiomas” (“linguistic/language nerd”) as way of explaining moments when I get a little too carried away explaining a linguistic phenomenon or practically flipping out over some cool new word in Spanish (especially calques, calques are the coolest). Yep, if you’re picturing me furiously writing in that little blue book over tapas or coffee, you’re spot on.

“empollón/ona” – My dictionary translates this as 'swot', but that's got to be British slang as I’ve never heard it before. That aside, based on the explanation I received in Spanish, I think the word means something similar to nerd, but with an extra teacher’s-pet, Hermione-Granger-style intensity. Unfortunately I’ve become borderline empollona in a couple of my classes, partly due to, well, see above, but also due to a fear Spaniards have – claims my professor – of “salir a la pizarra” (literally, “going up to the blackboard”, or speaking up in class).

 “tener morriña” / “to be homesick” – Now I’m not actually homesick, but this word – morriña, with its eñe and erre – is so delightful to say that I had to write it down. Of course there are some things I miss about home, like Thai food, cycling, and not having ingredients like tahini “me cuesta un riñón” (cost me a kidney ie. fortune), but I like to think six months in India made me pretty good at adjusting to change!

“el juernes” – This one requires an explanation rather than a translation. It’s a portmanteau word which combines jueves (Thursday) and viernes (Friday), as in Madrid, partying doesn’t wait until the weekend – you go out Thursdays, regardless of whether you have work or class the next day. I cracked up the first time I heard the word; while I myself can’t adjust to this custom, I think it’s absolutely brilliant that this tradition is so engrained in Madrileño culture that there even exists a word for it. Can't help but love language evolution!

Hope you're all well :) Hasta luego! Xx

Picnic on a gorgeous sunny day (in this photo it's sunset) at El Parque Quinta de los Molinos!

Everyone, meet Spanish Tess

…she may not be as chatty as you recall.

Something I've had on my mind recently is the ways in which speaking a foreign language affect, at least on a superficial level, how people perceive us. When attempting to converse in Spanish (‘attempt’ being the operative word here), I find that my demeanour, attitude, confidence, and even personality, can change. I become self-conscious of my pronunciation, shy about my mistakes, and above all frustrated by my inability to convey even the most basic of concepts. Of course I still know that I am a fairly intelligent and outgoing woman with plenty of thoughts and opinions, but to the Spanish-speaking world, I am shy, awkward, frequently confused, and a terrible conversationalist. And this is not a misconception on their part; I honestly am all of these things when trying to speak Spanish! In my attempts at ‘real’ conversation so far, I found that because I couldn't express nuances and finer details, I was making broad and sometimes offensive statements that didn't actually ring true with what I really believe in. Thankfully the Spanish people are incredibly kind, and for the most part I think, understand that at least some of my awkwardness and insensitivity must be attributed to my lack of fluency.

When sightseeing, dining out, asking for directions, and searching for apartments, this ‘personality makeover’, if you could call it that, hasn't been much of a problem. One night, however, I plucked up the courage to trek across Madrid to a language exchange I had found on the internet. I was nervous, cold, and feeling a bit ill, but knowing I had nothing to lose, I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the bar where the event was being held. The bar was absolutely packed, with a lively atmosphere, and unfortunately for me, it seemed that everyone already knew each other. Except for a few initial introductions by the doorway, the organisers did very little to facilitate the promised ‘language exchange’, but eventually, after a few short conversations with Spaniards who wanted to practise their English and, obviously, not their Spanish, I quite literally stumbled into a conversation with a friendly man from Pakistan and woman from Spain. I feel that, had we been speaking English, I would have had no trouble working my way past small chat and into more interesting and substantial discussion, perhaps even a joke or two. And yet when I eventually excused myself, unable to strain my throat any more shouting over the noise in the bar, I was acutely aware and embarrassed of how shy and uncertain I must have seemed. Stumbling over words was not necessarily the problem; it was more that, simply because I did not have the words, I did not seem to have the concepts either. In retrospect this is probably good news, as it means I'm thinking in Spanish instead of translating from English… but thinking in the Spanish of a 5 year old, most likely!

Similarly, and perhaps even more so, I experience this feeling in my apartment. The Spaniards I live with – José Alberto, María, Lourdes, and Javi – are some of the loveliest and funniest people I have met here so far, and I am so lucky to have found them. Not only are they kind to me, but they include me in their jokes, help me with my Spanish, invite me to eat and drink wine with them, and even looked after me when I was sick with the flu. Although it has only been a few weeks since we met, I already feel so comfortable with them, and so naturally I am frustrated with the huge roadblock that this language barrier is providing. The traditional methods of getting to know someone – by sharing stories, advice, opinions, anecdotes, aspirations, jokes etc. – are, for now at least, largely unavailable for us. Instead, they are getting to know Spanish Tess, who is timid, annoyingly curious and nerdy (cómo se dice this, qué significa that), and, I am sure, supremely awkward.

I need to clarify though that all this is not a bad thing, and I am writing about it not out of a desire or need to complain, but rather as a point of curiosity. I came to Spain to be immersed in the language and culture, and the knowledge that I am out of my comfort zone pushes me, everyday, to try harder, learn faster, ask more questions, and experience things more deeply. If there were no challenges, I would become complacent, and I would leave this country next year still a monolingual. Which is NOT an option!

And anyway, what's the harm in a little personality adjustment? I have always been a chatterbox, but now I have a unique opportunity – whether I like it or not – to talk less and listen more. Logically, it is much easier to ask questions than answer them, as questions require less vocabulary and improvisation. If I am on the receiving end of an open-ended question, I am usually only able to give fairly short replies; certainly none of my usual rambling! I think that when we are speaking a language we are unfamiliar with, we try to turn the focus outwards, away from ourselves. This is probably mostly due to self-consciousness… but also, if you’re making the effort to learn another language, chances are you’re already open to other cultures, and the ideas and lessons its people have to share with you. So bring it on, Spain, I'm all ears.

"Nos comemos las palabras" / literally, "We eat words" – Or, as Javi said it, by way of explanation, "no comemo la palabra". A recently returned exchange student told me at a pre-departure session in Sydney that, just when she thought she could understand Spanish, she went to Andalusia (a state in Spain), and suddenly she couldn't understand anything. Andalusians are notorious for having a certain lazy way of speaking which apparently makes them difficult for foreigners to understand. As luck would have it, 3 out of my 4 housemates are from – you guessed it – Andalusia! Even Maria, Javi’s girlfriend, says she had trouble understanding Javi when they first met, but luckily for me he tries really hard to annunciate properly and not 'eat' any of his words.

"la resaca" / "hangover" – I went out with some people I met at uni last week, and learnt many things, in the following order: First; just like in Australia, cocktails in Spain are expensive. Second; unlike in Australia, you actually get your money’s worth here. Further cocktail purchases are not necessary, or advised. Third; cider can be found alongside the chips and chocolate in the local alimentación (grocery shop) for just 1.20 euros. And the last thing I learnt, at around 8am the next morning from my amused housemates, was this word: resaca.

"las palabrotas" / "swearwords" – I’m pretty naïve even at the best of times, but in Spanish I don’t stand a chance. Sarcasm, puns, witticisms and double entendre are completely lost on me; not only am I the youngest in the flat, but also the most innocent. I have already, by accident, loudly repeated profanities that José has used, asked Javi a question without realising its hidden sexual connotations, and completely missed the punchline in every single joke I have been told. It’s embarrassing but also hilarious, and proves that language barriers can also provide entertainment and conversation.

"No pasa nada" / "No problem" – Another one of my favourite phrases to hear, just like "no te preocupes"! Whether it’s for my cluelessness, language errors, or endless need of assistance, I am forever apologising here. People are so kind and patient though, and always brush it off with this little phrase, seeming genuinely not to care that I have inconvenienced them.

Oops, long post. ¡Hasta luego!

Lucky enough to live with wonderul and generous cooks; we are always cooking for one another!

Para empezar...

"a través del lenguaje" - 'through language'

Isn’t it a pretty phrase? You’ve got the soft Spanish v, the ‘gw’ sound, and the jota. I’m not trying to be cryptic here with a foreign title, but I could hardly call the blog ‘Tess’ Travels’, and besides, I am in Spain after all, and language is so important to me. But more on that later.

I promise it was never my intention to write a travel blog. Even when a couple of people suggested the idea to me I waved it off dismissively, and when Dad asked why not later, I admitted that I thought it was a bit narcissistic. Why should people care what I’m doing? That’s not to say that I look down on travel blogs, or blogs of any kind for that matter, as they have been a great resource for me in my worldly and culinary adventures. But those are blogs which are interesting, useful – successful. I thought it was pointless – downright delusional, in fact – to write to an audience which would most likely consist of my parents and a few interested friends.

However I have always always written travel journals. Mum encouraged me to keep one on my first trip overseas – eight weeks travelling Europe when I was 9 – and I guess the habit stuck, as I have a whole box of books back home, four of which are filled only of India. Writing a travel journal is an excellent idea, I can’t recommend it enough. That said, being the babbler I am, I rarely stuck to writing only about the places I’d been and people I’d met, but instead treated the journals as places to vent my emotions. And who wants to sort through all that teenage angst to get to the good bits?

So, here we are. In short, a blog, for no one’s sake but my own, to document my language-learning journey, and vetted by others to ensure I don't let myself ramble too much.

Back to language. I had the rather gratifying and exciting experience – MILESTONE, in my opinion – of not feeling like a monolingual for the first time in my life. In high school, I learnt Latin, but we didn’t speak it. Then I started to learn Spanish, then I picked up a bit of Hindi in India, then I went to uni and took up Spanish (again) and Korean. I went to Seoul for five weeks with the sole (haaaha) purpose of increasing my speaking confidence, and I did. But still when people asked me how many languages I could speak, I would say one, and never hesitated to criticise the Australian education system for improving our writing skills far beyond our conversational capabilities (sorry, Usyd).

And yet yesterday, I thought for the first time in my life: “I am multilingual”. I was in my dorm room with a Brazilian girl who spoke Spanish, and a South Korean girl who spoke English. There was a problem, they were unable to communicate with one another, and suddenly both were turning to me expectantly, wanting me to translate! Being multilingual speakers themselves – like the rest of the non-English speaking world (come on Australia, get with it) – they would have had no idea that this little exchange meant so much to me, but it really did. I translated! It worked! They didn’t stare at me like I was crazy! Of course I am still nowhere near fluent, but the confidence boost sure helped.

Language. It’s clearly a big deal, for communication sure, but also in shaping our experiences. Those who have learnt a second (or third, or fourth) language will know that it opens up windows to other cultures, just like – and in some ways even more so than – travelling. It allows you to connect and engage with the country on a more meaningful level. Or maybe that’s just for little language nerds like me, who eagerly latch on to any new piece of information or word. On this blog I’m hoping to post new words and idioms I've learnt, and where possible, a little history or anecdote of how I came across them. Basically, I’ll be using my favourite thing, language, to give this blog some direction, because I sure as hell need it!

“¡Tus ojos son muy azules!” / “Your eyes are very blue!” – Some guy stopped me at the metro station yesterday and said this. I was totally taken aback and am still not sure if he was being funny, nice, or sleazy. 

 “jefe nacional” / “dictator”, although literally, “national boss” – This came up in a conversation about the Civil War in Spain I had with an old man at a busy restaurant. We were both there alone, so the waiter seated us diagonally across from one another on the same table. He decided to strike up a conversation with me – regardless, it seemed, of whether I could understand his fast Spanish or not – and although he did end up being a tad racist, I was definitely grateful for the opportunity to practise.

“No te preocupes” / “Don’t worry” – By far my favourite phrase to hear! Whether I’m lost, worried, confused, or apologising for my bad Spanish, the madrileños (people of Madrid) are always reassuring me with these simple words. I have been so pleasantly surprised by the kindness, patience and warmth of people here so far :)

That’s all for now... ¡hasta luego!

Parque del Oeste, Madrid