Saliendo en Salamanca

Molly and I have spent a lot of time lately whining about how lame we are, how we never go out and have no friends. I guess both of these statements are at least partially true. We do go out every once in awhile, but I know that, for me, since I have class 3 days a week at 9am and the other day at 10am, going out on a weeknight is not at all an attractive idea. I really do think, too, that the fact that dinner is so late deters me from going out, because we often don’t finish dinner until 9:45 or 10, at which point all I want to do is get in my bed and go to sleep. I’m tired enough in class (I’ve never been one to fall asleep in class at Georgetown, but here, every class is a struggle to stay awake) having gotten seven or so hours of sleep at night, so I can only imagine what I would be like if I got any less than that. I would probably look like death warmed over. So yes, I do feel lame, but, at least during the week, I’m not at all willing to sacrifice the few precious hours of sleep I have to go out. Also complicating matters is the fact that the after-dinner hours are the most in-demand Skype times, so I most often choose catching up with family and friends, which is obviously very important to me.

And as for our whining about the fact that we have no friends, that’s also somewhat true. Since we don’t go out very much, we haven’t really met Spanish students, and there is little hope for interaction with them in our classes. This could be for one of a few reasons: 1) Spanish students don’t want to put forth the effort to interact with us because we’ll be here for a semester and then will go back home, never to be heard from again; 2) Ignorance, as our Spanish tutor told us- many Spanish students have never left their hometowns, so they are just on completely different levels than we are, because they can’t really understand going away from home to go to school, and for many of us, we can’t imagine NOT going away to school; or 3) we aren’t confident enough in our ability to express ourselves in Spanish (or in our coolness!) to interact with Spanish students. But in any case, it has been a struggle. I have made a couple of friends in my classes (all foreign students), but, up until this weekend, our friendship has never gotten to the point where we would hang out outside of class. But in class on Thursday, Alexa, a French friend who is in two of my classes, invited me to a botellón at her house on Friday night. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the term (to tell you the truth, I wasn’t either, and had to ask Molly what it was, figuring that she would have learned about it in tutoring), it’s essentially a house party, but you bring your own liquor. I was really excited to be invited to something, and thought it would be a good networking opportunity.

Another networking opportunity presented itself thanks to Jimmy, our Peruvian friend who we met at Carnaval (the one who patiently explained, to us three stupid American girls, how bullfights work!). He has been trying to get together with us for weeks, and we finally felt so bad (we had been away some of the times he called, or he wanted us to go out during the week) that we said we would meet up with him on Thursday night. We met for coffee on Wednesday night, and we made plans to go to Savor, a salsa club. Molly and I got all dolled up and walked down to Savor (in the freezing cold, I might add), only to find that there was no one dancing. In fact, there was a poetry reading, and only older people were there. Hmmm. Luckily, Jimmy called again and suggested meeting in the Plaza, so we met up with him there and walked over to Niebla, a bar that we’ve been to several times. After some drinks (vodka y limón for me, rum and coke for Molly), we danced (there is really never dancing at Niebla, but there was some sort of special party) and got to meet some of Jimmy’s friends (another Peruvian, a Japanese woman who was apparently 35, some French people, and others whose nationalities I’m not sure about). After awhile, we walked over to another bar, which had more Latin music (whereas Niebla almost exclusively plays American tunes, which led to another of Molly’s thesis epiphanies, where she decided she would write her thesis on the pervasiveness of American music). We got a coupon for a second drink free, but after downing a Mahou, I was DEFINITELY very tipsy and not in any shape to drink anymore. The others were getting sort of restless too, so we headed over to Savor, losing some of the group along the way.

Jimmy is an instructor at Savor (other than being a bar, they also offer salsa lessons), so he was obviously an amazing dancer. He and Molly went on the dance floor right away, and I was sitting looking at my pictures, the others in the group sitting around me. A guy came up to me and asked if I had ever danced salsa before, and when I said that I had been to a salsa club once- in France- and am a horrible salsa dancer, he asked if I wanted to dance. So I left my bag with the other girls and let him teach me how to salsa. I think I was a pretty typical beginner in that I was very rigid- basically because I didn’t really know what to do- but he actually gave me really good advice, which was that, when he moved his feet one way, I should mirror him. And he was right, it was a LOT easier! So I was having fun, dancing off some of my tipsiness. He asked if I wanted a drink, so obviously I jumped at the chance for a free one. We were standing by the bar talking for awhile- he was shocked that I spoke Spanish, and said I spoke it very well (I never know what to think when people tell me this, though- are they just being nice?). He spoke some English- he had been living in Boston- but we mainly spoke in Spanish. Everything was going fine, and then he asked if I had a boyfriend. Uh oh, I could sense where this was going. Apparently all Spanish guys do think the same (he’s 25, by the way). I said that I had a boyfriend, and asked if he had a girlfriend. He said that he did, in Ecuador, and asked if that bothered me. What an awkward question. What did he expect me to say? We talked for a little while longer, and he asked if I wanted to go out. As in on a date. Apparently he had no regard for my fictional American boyfriend. He also told me I had beautiful eyes- so basically, he lived up to all of my stereotypes of Spanish men. I said that I would like to go out, lying through my teeth of course, and gave him a false phone number. He said he was going to run to the bathroom, and I took that as a cue to scurry back to my seat, done with that adventure. Luckily, he didn’t follow me. Sure, he was charming, (and good-looking) but what did he expect me to do? Completely disregard my relationship with my aforementioned fictional American boyfriend to go out with him? I feel like, when Spanish guys (well, actually, some French guys too- remember the one at the bar in Nice???) hear that a girl is from the US, they immediately assume that we are so slutty and can’t resist their charm so much that we’ll sleep with them, just because they’re European. I’m a little offended, sometimes, that they automatically assume that about us (although I guess I’m just assuming all Spanish guys are skeezy until I’m proven wrong, so maybe I shouldn’t judge!).

I hadn’t been back in my seat for five minutes when an African guy came up to me and asked me to dance- literally stood right behind me and got right in my face. I was having spatial issues anyway after my drinks, so he seemed especially close, but it made me uncomfortable. I relented and said I’d dance with him, but after one dance I was done. Luckily, Molly came back over soon after, and we recounted our respective Savor experiences. By that point, it was the respectable hour of four, so, being that we were exhausted from all of the dancing (and also from the drinks), we headed home. Jimmy was very impressed with my experience with “sweater guy” (the one who asked me out), who, I should say, looked like he was on his way to the Hamptons to go to the White Party (white pants, shirt, Chucks, and sweater draped around his shoulders like a Polo model). Think Chuck Bass, and you’ll be pretty close.

On Friday night, after having endured a painful post-drinking workout and a few hours in a café doing work, we went to the botellón. We really weren’t sure what to expect, so got progressively more nervous as we walked towards Alexa’s apartment. She lives in one of the student residences, so can have friends over (which is a total novelty for those of us who are living with host families this semester). When we got there, there were only people from francophone countries, which was great for me, but a little bit uncomfortable for Molly, so we just spoke to them in Spanish, and I somehow managed to work into conversations, when they asked what I was studying, that I’m a French major and studied in Strasbourg last semester. Everyone was very impressed, and Molly and I were really shocked that people were shocked to find that we, two Americans- gasp!- speak Spanish. That really speaks multitudes about our reputation abroad, so I hope I’m helping to change that a little bit!

At first, it was a little awkward, because we didn’t know anyone besides Alexa, but as people came trickling in, we met some new people, and actually got the chance to interact with some people who we recognized from our classes. It was a lot of fun, and we interacted the most with a group of 2 Belgians, a Luxembourgeoise (since I don’t know the work in English!) and a Spaniard. We went out to a bar with them afterward, but it was so crowded- there LITERALLY wasn’t any space to move around- that none of us lasted very long. So it was a relatively early night (we got home at about 2), but, like I was hoping, we made a lot of good connections, so hopefully we can go out with these people again! The two of us were practically dancing on our way home, exclaiming, “We have friends!”. We’re such dorks.

I hope everything is going well with all of you, and, as always, I'm sending you my love,

Kristen