Maria del Mar, with her Nanny McPhee-esque appearance, ability to spoil the heck out of me, and amazing cooking skills, is the perfect Spanish se¤ora. Unlike many people studying abroad (those who came to Europe with a ‘screw school and staying in Barcelona, I just want to travel’ attitude), I came to Spain mostly to live.
Thankfully, this surrogate mother has made living in Barcelona an amazing experience, and, in the process, has established herself (unbeknownst to her, I’m sure) as one of my favorite things about Spain.
Basically, in the (slightly altered) words of Robert Fulghum, “All I ever really need to know about (Barcelona) I’ve learned from my (se¤ora).” Most of what I really need to know about how to live the Spanish life, and what to do, and how to be, I learned from her.
I’ve learned that patience really is a virtue. Probably one of the most frustrating things about living overseas is the ever-present language barrier. An example of this: About a month ago, I went to the post office to buy some envelops and stamps. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember the word for envelope, sobre. So instead I stood at the correos’ counter attempting in roundabout terms (complete with hand motions, I might add) to describe what I wanted. The worker just stared at me and said, in English, “Stamps?” Uh, no…
It’s annoying to be in a country where I can speak the language, más o menos, only to be met with blank stares or responses in English worse than my Spanish. (This doesn’t happen all the time, but it has happened enough.) I’ve learned to keep in mind, though, that some people simply want to practice their English, and others just see me as yet another non-Spanish-speaking American tourist.
And then there’s Maria del Mar. Without her, I don’t think my Spanish (or confidence in speaking the language) would have improved as much as it has. She realizes that I want to learn more, to improve my Spanish, and she is willing to patiently sit by and help me.
And so is kindness: Since coming to Barcelona, I have not cooked (except for when Maria del Mar taught me how to make crema catalana, my favorite dessert), cleaned, or done laundry (as a note, she irons all of our clothes). When most of our friends went to Mnich for Oktoberfest, she bought us German beer to have with dinner. And when my roommate mentioned that she was only going to eat bread and cheese while traveling in Switzerland, our se¤ora bought her sausages and cookies as a surprise present. I feel like a part of her life, but also like an honored guest.
Catalunyans are not as closed off as they seem: Before coming to Catalunya, the Spanish autonomous region of which Barcelona is the capital city, I had read that, especially in comparison with the rest of Spain, its people were reserved and shy. Now that I am here, I have found that this couldn’t be further from the truth.
But, Catalunyans also have a reputation for being friendly after the proverbial ice has been broken, and my se¤ora is a prime example of this. I love hearing stories about her life, and she loves having two silly American girls living with her. I have overheard her multiple times telling friends about our travels, our encounters with the nightlife, and her personal favorite, our friends’ love lives. One friend in particular had a month-long relationship with a Spaniard, and our se¤ora waited anxiously every evening to hear more of the juicy details surrounding their romance. It was like a real-life novella, and she loved it.
They say that the people you spend your time with can either make or break an experience. And that has certainly been the case in Barcelona. I was looking forward to living with a family before coming here, and luckily, my expectations have been far exceeded. Me encanta Maria del Mar!