If you have ever travelled out of the country for more than a short amount of time, you will understand where I'm coming from in this post. We all know what it's like to feel out of place, but there are many levels of out-of-place-ness. There is your first day of high school where the only people you know are just as awkward as you are. There are times when we walk into a room and feel others willing us to not be there. Most of us even know what it feels like to be rejected, which is a very out-of-place feeling. Being in a foreign country is the none of those things, while also being the culmination of all of them.
The first big difficult difference is the language barrier. I speak Spanish decently well, but under the pressure of impressing a Spaniard or even communicating clearly my brain likes to vacate the premises. Their lovely, questioning eyes wait patiently for my responses, and in their gaze I sense a little pity and confusion. I'm sure they wonder, "Does she know what I said? Should I repeat myself?" The silence hangs in the air for a few seconds, screaming at me with all its might, "Come on, think faster! They're waiting! You're going to look stupid." The truth is, I'm sure people don't care that my Spanish is less than awesome, but I do. It's a beautiful language, and I've studied it more than I've studied English in many ways. In the past, I have always practiced and learned slang and pronunciation of Spanish used in Latin America. One dialect of Spanish is not necessarily more correct than the other. They are just different. Here in Spain the accent is thick, and they speak very fast. The combination of those two things make the language barrier even higher for me.
Another barrier is obviously the cultural one. If making a fool of myself every time I try to talk to someone wasn't enough, I also do weird stuff without knowing it. For example, the other day I went to VIPS, which is a restaurant geared towards "Ingleses." I go there after my class on Mondays and Wednesdays for a coffee. One morning I ordered a luscious-looking french toast with strawberries because I hadn't eaten breakfast yet. When I told the camarero what I wanted he said, "That one?" with a perplexed look. He brought it to me anyway. Well, when I was there yesterday guess what I saw on the dessert menu? The strawberry french toast. No wonder he looked at me like I had 3 eyes. I was ordering dessert at 11:30 AM with my coffee. I guess they don't do breakfast Denny's style in Spain. Also last week at VIPS an older woman came in and sat by herself at the table next to me. She kept mumbling in my direction. After a few minutes I actually started listening to her and responded. She said something about, "What a country. Those people..." And she made the gesture for stuck-up. I guess she was referring to me, but how was I supposed to know to respond to her mumbling? I've seen enough random people here mumbling to themselves, so I just thought I'd let her enjoy her conversation with herself. I felt terrible for being so rude, so I tried to be as nice as I could before I left.
Para colmo de males (on top of all that), things just work differently around here. I have to ask seemingly obvious questions like, "Excuse me where can I buy my train ticket?" while standing in the train station full of (supposedly) well-marked signs. There are countless things I take for granted when I'm in the U.S. just because I know the system and they speak my language. Not only do I look like a total tourist when I ask silly questions, but I can't promise I'll understand when they try to help me. It's amazing what you don't think about when you know how to do something! I really do love Spain, but it's hard to make myself go out and do everyday things because everyday things aren't everyday for me yet. It was a big deal the first time I went to the grocery store. I spent 5 minutes looking for the stairs to the lower level (which are not next to the u^^^p escalator, I might add). When I rode the Metro by myself for the first time, I was very nervous about knowing if I was on the correct train or not. Once I got off the bus at the wrong stop. I often don't know whether or not to make eye contact with street vendors. I usually don't, but that may just be the American thing to do, which is not what I want to do.
I was hoping in my time here I would learn to blend and adapt to Spanish culture, but God has used this to humble me. I've only been here three weeks. How can I expect to assimilate into a culture and new language in 21 days? This trip has been exciting and informative, but mostly it's been a reality check. Living abroad is hard, and if that's what God has called me to in the future I need to know it's hard before I jump in with both feet. There is a big difference between stories about Neverland and being there trying to fend off Captain Hook. Spain, England, South Africa, Switerland, Austria, Thailand, Saudi Arabia and so many more places all sound mystical and far-off when you're home. When you're there, however, you will finally realize how little they are like your home and how far-off they really are. You feel... out of place. Feeling out of place isn't necessarily always a negative. It just makes you feel like maybe you're not totally at home in your own skin. Insecurities may be amplified and fears may be exposed, but all in all those feelings can shape you into a better person. For my own life, I know feeling out of place has made me want to make sure no one ever feels that way with me. I want to be an anchor for someone who's bobbing about on the waves, wondering where they'll end up. It makes me want to return to my home and share it with someone who needs it. I don't necessarily mean someone without a place to live, but someone who doesn't have a place where they belong.
Ultimately I'm learning that belonging is something nebulous and only truly found in the Lord. I didn't think I would need him here in Spain. I didn't want to admit to myself that's what I was thinking, but it's true. I thought wrong. There is a deep and abiding sense of love and belonging that only God can give me, no matter how well I think I fit somewhere. Of all the things I have seen and learned, that I need Jesus as desperately today as I did the moment I was born is the most important. I am ceaselessly amazed at the ways in which Jesus draws me close to him. He has never failed me, and he never gives up on me. The last time when I was really going astray he used stories (The Chronicles of Narnia -- Aslan) to win me back. This time he's using a city, a country, and beautiful breaks in false "belongingness." He knew I needed to fly across the ocean and wander around and get lost a little bit so that I would remember him again. I am so thankful!
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