When I first came to Spain, I wasn’t worried about potentially not being able to communicate—as I told my friends, I would just smile and nod and everything would be all right.
About two weeks after my arrival, my friend sent me a message asking if my neck muscles had gotten huge from constantly moving my head up and down. I’m happy to report to her and all of ya’ll that my neck muscles are still normally sized, but it continues to amaze me everything you can say without actually saying it.
Some entities, like family bonds, transcend those pesky obstacles like words and language barriers that get in the way.
Of course, in the beginning all of us Dukies in Madrid had some rough moments. For example, one of my best friends managed to tell her señora that her grandpa is dead (he’s not), from Italy (Italian heritage, but American-born) and fought in World War II (which, when combined with the fact that she thinks he is from Italy, paints a very different picture than what actually happened). But hey, these things happen to the best of us.
In the spirit of making as few of those types of mistakes as possible, I decided that I would try to pretend I was just a nice, shy, quiet girl (those three adjectives have never been used together to describe me) and not talk much in English to my roommate. I was hoping that my señora, named Soledad, or Sol for short, would just think I didn’t talk much instead of inferring that I was stupid and didn’t know much Spanish.
I’ve since abandoned that façade, thanks in part to my improved communication skills. Yet, despite my lack of words in the beginning, my señora has gotten to know me very well and even employs a sixth sense-ish motherly element to boot.
For example, when the weather started to turn around the beginning of this month, there was one night when I was freezing. The next day at lunch, Sol asked if I had been cold. “Si,” I said in a yeah-actually-you’re-right type of tone. She turned to her daughter and very excitedly said (obviously in Spanish since she does not speak or understand a word of English), “I knew it, I told you I just knew Laura had been cold!” Her next question, of course, was why didn’t I say anything (It was late and I figured I would do something about it later), and the next night I had two additional blankets on my bed.
In only 83 days and despite a language barrier that is as tall as the U.S.-Mexico border fence when I’m sleep deprived, Sol has managed to make both my roommate and I feel like her real daughters. The four of us in the house—Sol, her daughter Sol dos (two), my roommate (conveniently Laura as well) and I—are a legitimate family. She cooks like a five-star chef (everything is made from scratch, including our strawberry jam), she cleans my room and makes my bed every day, she washes and irons all of my clothes (underwear and T-shirts included) and she sews the holes in my leggings. Honestly, what more could I ask for? I told my actual Mom about my red carpet treatment and joked that I now have very high standards. She told me that she was great but reality was waiting for me back in the States and to enjoy Sol while I had her.
But before I do head back across the Atlantic (scary how soon that actually will be), my family here will grow by one. Sol’s oldest daughter Vicki is nine months pregnant and due to have her first child this week. Sol had been making baby clothes for months, showing us each one while beaming with a grandmother’s pride. She will be gone this week to be with Vicki, but she precooked a week’s worth of meals for so we just have to heat it in the microwave. Of course, she told us, we will all be going down to visit and see little Santiago. Why wouldn’t we? After all, we are a family.
I’m not sure President Richard Brodhead could have hoped for this type of global immersion experience when he arrived in 2004 and started to develop Duke’s global vision. He called on my class, the Class of 2011, to engage themselves in all Duke has to offer at our convocation. “A great experience awaits you, but more than you have probably imagined, the value of that experience is yours to determine,” he said. Sitting in an apartment in Madrid lazily watching a movie after a great lunch Sunday afternoon with Sol, Sol dos and Laura might not appear to be a groundbreaking experience, but I promise you it has been for me.
I will always remember being a part of this family— in fact, I’ll probably smile and nod every time this semester comes to mind.
Laura Keeley is a Trinity junior. Her column runs every other Tuesday.
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