One
of the interesting things about living in a foreign country is that
you can, in a sense, become part of a different world. It's fun to be
something different for a time.
Most
of the countries I'd lived in previous to Spain, were third world.
It's definitely different going into a living situation like the ones
I've had there knowing that you're American and that you're going
back home to carpet and running water and flushing toilets. But it
still gave me the opportunity to have a taste of what it feels like
to live in 3rd world conditions. Granted, I never felt the
despair that comes from not knowing if your family would have enough
to eat, but I do know what it's like to live without a lot of the
“necessities” of an American life.
In
Spain I rented my apartment from a family that has quite a bit of
money. But other than them, most of my friends here I met at church.
My church friends were mostly South American immigrants who come here
to work. And then a few Americans who have lives similar to mine, and
were just in Spain for a time to work or study.
Having
friends from different social classes gave me the chance to
experience little tastes of what life is like in various classes,
just in my one stay in Spain.
Class
1: Upper class, Spanish
Susana,
the woman I rented from owns an apartment in Madrid that was
orignally 3 separate apartments. She's had them remodeled so that it
feels like a fairly roomy house. Which feels especially large in a
European. She has two large bedrooms, 3 big bathrooms, two living
areas, an entry way, and a kitchen and dining area. It's quite
comfortable. Her family also owns two apartments they rent out (my
little studio, and a two-bedroom flat that goes for 3 times what I
paid), her mom has an apartment, and they own a house outside of the
city (their summer home, because it's much cooler there than downtown
Madrid. The house is probably at least 2200 sq ft. It has 4 bedrooms,
a kitchen, a laundry room, a dining room, three sitting rooms (the
turned the garage into another room), and 3 bathrooms. The master
suite is really nice, completely as luxurious as a nice American
home. The decour is very contemporary and European. They also have a
pool and a big yard. And they have a car. It's usually parked when
they're in the city, but they use it to go to their summer home and
to go on trips.
Anyway,
since I've become good friends with Susana and her twin daughters
since I've been here, I've been able to live in their class. Susana
took me to a party with her a few weeks ago. It felt like I'd stepped
back in time. It was what I imagine it would have been like for my
grandparents' generation to go to a nice gathering with friends. The
occasion was someone's birthday. The guests mostly knew each other
from going to school together in the city, and some of them had known
each other almost their whole lives. From what I gathered they'd gone
to private schools.
When
Susana invited me, she was sure to mention that it was a backyard BBQ
so I shouldn't worry about dressing up. Luckily I've spent enough
time outside the US to know that doesn't mean you should wear jeans
or shorts and a t-shirt. I wore a sundress and was glad I did. I'd
say the attire was the American version of business casual: the men
wore slacks and collared shirts, and the women wore dresses, nice
pants and blouses or skirts and blouses. They all wore jewelry, most
of it matchy-matchy too (I failed in that category).
Everyone
brought gifts or wine. The spread of food included little crustless
triangle sandwiches filled with cream cheeses and pates, little
grilled veggie sandwiches on baguettes, a light potato salad
(actually Russian), some little skewers of well-season chicken
alternating with onions, and a bar of wines, juices and sodas. The
plates were the small dessert-size, and most people just took one
thing at a time, and only tried a couple things. Very unlike the
American BBQ attitude of “fill that plate as much as you possible
can with steak and chicken and burgers and chips and desserts...”
But,
back to how I felt like I was in the 50's. Everyone dressed nice. The
lighting was soft, we were in a lush well-groomed backyard outside of
the city, with grass and flowers and a pool. Everyone looked
sophisticated. They were engineers and business people. Susana used
to be a reporter, and she speaks 5 languages. They all were very
educated. And then one by one, they would all light up. I had to move
a few times trying to escape the smoke. But, as much as the smoking
bothered me, it just seemed to fit. There I was, in 1950. I felt like
a young version of my grandpa would walk in at any minute with his
cigarette. And my grandma might walk out with another tray of cute
little crustless sandwiches.
I
noticed the way I spoke that night was very careful. I learned
Spanish in Latin America (mostly Mexico and Central America), and I
also lived among the lower classes of people there, as I mentioned
previously. Because of that my Spanish at times sounds like the
equivalent of English learned in the Ozarks. I am very aware of it,
and on top of that, I am very particular about trying to use Spanish
vocabulary when I'm with Spaniards. And I notice that even my
pronunciation changes. I've been speaking Spanish too long at this
point to pick up the Spanish theta (the lisp they're so famous for),
but that night I definitely caught myself pronouncing some very
guttoral j's and palatalized s's. I got many complements on my
Spanish, so that probably made me even more aware of it too!
Class
2: Immigrant working class, South American
Most
of the friends I spent time with I met at church, and they were from
Bolivia and Peru. They come here to earn more money than they can in
South America, and some even come to get residency so they can travel
to the US in the future. They work in restaurants or in cleaning
houses (Susana in fact employs a girl from South America).
I
didn't realize how upscale my apartment building was until I started
visiting other apartments. I have a full-time doorman (I use the word
full-time quite liberally, minus the breakfast breaks and siestas), a
nice marble entry way, and an elevator. Their apartments aren't
bad--Spain isn't 3rd world, but they're not near as nice
as mine. There's no doorman and no elevator. And a lot of them share
apartments. In Mallorca I stayed with a girl who lived with her mom
and two other families. They all share the kitchen and then each have
a bedroom/living area of their own.
Another
family I stayed with in Mallorca was a couple with one teenage son.
The mom (late 30's, from Bolivia) cleans houses and the dad (from
Argentina, also late 30's) works in landscaping. But they actually
live pretty well. The beach is TWO BLOCKS down the street. They have
a little two-story house with a bedroom, living room, kitchen and
bath downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs (no bath upstairs!). They
have two small cars. But I can tell money is tight. One night I was
there the girls all went out dancing. It was 5 euros (roughly $8) to
go, and Lourdes (the mom) told the girls she didn't have the money to
go. They had let us stay there that night, so I told her to take 5
euros from me and go. I obviously didn't go. They left after 1am (we
never ate dinner there until midnight), and didn't get home until
6am! They may originally be South Americans, but they've sure adapted
the Spanish schedule. I slept instead.
I
actually felt really comfortable in this environment, even though
I've never been to South American, and I noticed that when I'm at
church I don't pay attention to my speech at all, and my
Mexican/Central American self comes out loud and clear. I don't think
I would have noticed, but one day one of the missionaries (a
Bolivian) asked me if I was Mexican! I laughed and asked him why. I'd
said something was “bien bonito.” Very Mexican. Very funny.
Class
3: Upper middle class, American
This
is my English-speaking true self. I had a few friends from church in
this category, and I had a few friends come visit me from the US.
Most of my traveling took place here. It's comfortable. It was fun.
But also a little too normal. Nothing much to write about here. Oh,
except that this self went to France and got to speak French! I
couldn't believe how much I understood. I had a year in high school
and a semester in college, but that linguist inside me was just
jumping for joy when I got to go to church and I could understand at
least 75% of the lessons! That linguist side of me loved being in
this area in general, and being around Galician, Catalan, Occidental,
Portuguese, French and Spanish all in one small area! Basque was in
there too, but mostly just in signs. I didn't really get to hear
people speak it, and it's not a Romance language (it's origin is
actually a mystery), so I wasn't as interested in trying to
understand it as the others.
Anyway,
I enjoyed leading so many lives in such a short amount of time. What
an adventure!
