My Life as a Foreigner

Before this trip, I never really thought much about what it means to be a foreigner. I’ve met a lot of foreigners. I’m friends with a lot of foreigners. And I’ve had some passing thoughts concerning the difficulties of relocating to a strange place where the language and customs are entirely unknown. But I never really got it until now.

Let me start by acknowledging the fact that here I’m really not THAT foreign. Being American it’s hard to be truly foreign anywhere. American culture has spread throughout the globe; when I walk into a bar the people are dancing to Beyonce. When I go to the movies it’s packed with kids lined up to see High School Musical 3. The #1 TV show in Spain is The Simpsons. (This fascinated me the last time I was here being that The Simpsons is basically a satire of American culture. The jokes don’t even translate well.) And EVERYONE is discussing the US election. I walked into class the other day and the kids started chanting, “O-ba-ma! O-ba-ma!” Do you think you could even find ONE 6th grader in the states who can name the president of Spain? Can you? I know I couldn’t until I got here.

So yes, being an American automatically gives me an edge on the Continuum of Foreignness, so it’s been much easier on me than somebody relocating to say, Tonga, originally hailing from, I don’t know, Uzbekistan or Turkmenistan or Mars. You get the idea. Nonetheless, on Menorca I am still a foreigner, and I FEEL like a foreigner. It’s true that this isn’t my first time in Spain. I did study abroad in Madrid, but it was different. Madrid is a very cosmopolitan place, crawling with American students and tourists. On Menorca, however, I’m seriously the first American most people have met. The US isn’t a common travel location for Menorquins, just as Menorca isn’t a popular vacation destination for Americans. The other day I was talking to Aimee’s boss, who owns a bar near the port and thus meets loads of tourists during the summer. I asked him what he thought of Americans, and basically he said he hadn’t met enough to give a fair description. He said that the Americans who venture to Menorca are of the same type; a type that is curious and adventurous, and likes to explore unusual places. I understood what he meant, because honestly, if I hadn’t been sent haphazardly by the Spanish consulate to this random little strip of land in the Mediterranean I never would have even thought about coming here.

So all in all it’s a nice exchange: I get to learn about a place I wouldn’t have otherwise explored, and at the same time I get to play Cultural Ambassador (although I think Hollywood is doing just fine without me). But I will say this: being a foreigner isn’t easy. First of all, there’s that whole language barrier thing, even though I do speak Spanish. Most of the time I understand everything people say to me and can respond appropriately, but in a second language it’s difficult to show your personality. While I’m outgoing back home, in Spain I’m shy. When all the teachers are talking and laughing together in the teacher’s lounge, I’m too nervous to throw in my 2 cents. When I run into an acquaintance around town I find it difficult to start up a conversation or make small talk. When speaking with someone new I’m always worried that I’m going to say something wrong, or that they won’t understand my accent. It’s like your personality is filtered through the language barrier, leaving you less intelligent, less quick-witted and less secure.

And when you’re a foreigner, everything is a little more difficult. Going to the supermarket, checking out a book at the library, finding the right bus to catch… it’s like you consistently feel like the clueless kid at school who always says or does the wrong thing. I find that here most people are patient with me, but I’ve definitely gotten the “I’m struggling not to roll my eyes at you” look a few times. I’m sorry if I heard you wrong when you said the bus was at platform “doce” (12) and not “dos” (2). I didn’t realize it was such a MAJOR offense. And no, I wasn’t born knowing that I had wait for the shop attendant to HAND me the sandwich on the shelf arms-length away, when I could just as easily take it myself. So sue me.

But anyway, despite these minor complaints, the truth is that my experience as a foreigner has been positive. The teachers at LaSalle make an effort to talk to me and understand me, and correct my Spanish if I say something wrong. And because of their kindness, I’ve been feeling more friendly and confident, more like myself. And then there are those few strangers who make the extra effort to help me out. Like Sara at the gym I joined. My first day there she walked me through everything, introduced me to the teacher of the aerobics class, and reserved a spot for me in front so I would be sure to understand everything that was going on.

Which brings me to the overall point of this post. In our area of the US, we have the unique opportunity to meet foreigners all the time –and interesting foreigners too. Foreigners who are much braver than I am, meeting a cultural divide much greater than what I’m experiencing. After all, a temporary US-to-Europe relocation is really not all that dramatic in the grand scheme of things. Not to mention the fact that I was INVITED here. I came here with a job lined up, a job that basically ASKS me to be foreign. Really, think about it, it’s like, “Natalie could you just hang out with a bunch of kids all day, tell them about yourself and what you do back home, and speak in your native language?” I mean, I have it made.

So all in all my mere glimpse at the life of a foreigner has made me really appreciate the people I’ve met back home who packed up and moved, immersing themselves in a language and culture completely unlike their own, many without a job or a set plan let alone an entire school willing to take them under their wing. And really, that’s just amazing. It takes a rare kind of courage to take that step in life, and I admire it immensely. This experience has made me re-examine the way I interact with foreigners I meet in the US: Do I take the time to understand them and make sure they understand me? Do I put forth the extra effort to make them feel welcome? Would I be like Sara at the gym? I like to think so, but I can’t say for sure. I do know however that when I’m back home in the US I will be sure to follow in the footsteps of the wonderful people I’ve met here, the people who have made Spain for me a home away from home.