Half a pig’s ear is better than a full one

I decided that an element of my unhappiness of the past week was born of inactivity and lack of fresh air – oh the joys of the office job! So in the spirit of proactivity –in every sense possible – I inserted two novelties into my Hispanic adventure.

First, I joined a little Spanish gym full of little Spanish people (seriously, I was the tallest person at the class I went to… I’m not tall!!). This was mostly to give me something active to do in the evenings if sitting at home didn’t appeal, and I thought that maybe if I went to a few classes I might meet some friendly non-work-related people. So I gamely walked into the first class I came across. There were 7 other, fairly normal looking women in the room, so I figured I’d be okay. And then the barbell weights came out… An hour of squats and lunges and bicep curls and various other weighty moves later, and I came out feeling surprisingly light. I tried talking to a couple of the women, but as soon as I opened my mouth I got the “oh-you’re-foreign-that’s-too-much-like-hard-work” look. I decided to try again next week. The following day I was feeling the burn, and the day after that, and the day after that... As I said, I’m going to try again next week!

Second, I started going for early morning walks along the seafront. It’s dark when I leave the house at 6:30, but as I reach the sea, the sky is just lightening on the horizon and as I walk I watch the colours change, minute by minute. The wind’s in my hair, the air’s fresh from the night, and the birds are just beginning to sing. It’s calm. It’s just me and the sea (and the road sweepers, but they don’t quite fit the romantic picture). At one point there’s a fleet of boats moored, and they silhouette beautifully against the dawn, and a few times now I’ve seen herons fishing at the water’s edge.

Around 7 o clock, other people begin to appear. It’s always the same people – old Spanish men with friendly, crinkly eyes. And they make eye contact and smile and say good morning. Of course, I don’t know them, but I’m beginning to feel like I do, just because they’re familiar faces in a still unfamiliar place. The sleazy men are clearly still in bed – I feel safer walking at this time than I feel at any other time of day.

The week had a pretty awful start – I was finding everything overwhelming – the language, the job, the culture… it was all too much and I was imploding from the disorientation of being out of every comfort zone I have. But slowly it began to get better. Emails from friends and family proved a welcome diversion, and a phonecall from my employer in the UK helped me to put things into perspective. An hour or so speaking Spanglish with a colleague made me laugh, and I realised that I haven’t laughed much recently. But it’s amazing (and hilarious) how no Spanish people seem to be able to pronounce “crisps”. Always criPSPS. Always!! It’s like every French person pronounces “law” as “low”, and Germans pronouce “clothes” as “clotheses”. Plus, the bar tender gave us free, freshly made popcorn with our drinks – bonus! AND I managed to parallel park…once…

Added to that, I had a few small breakthroughs at work. Tasks which last week seemed impossible now seem just difficult. I even had a mini phone-related triumph. I’m terrified of speaking Spanish on the phone, and until now have made a complete pig’s ear of every phone conversation I’ve tried to have. This week the phone got thrust at me and eventually I managed to get the required information out of the haulier without him giving up on me half-way through. It was still painful – and still half a pig’s ear – but it was more of a sprain than a full on dislocation.

So yes, my bruised self-confidence is on the mend. It’s entering into that fascinating yellowy-purple stage of bruise when you just have to stare at it because you can’t believe your own skin can be that colour, and you get the urge to poke it to see if it still hurts as much as it did when it was blue. Or maybe that’s just me. In any case, I leave you with the words of wisdom that sum up my turning point, emailed to me by a family friend:

“Don’t underestimate the enormity of what you’ve achieved this year. You are in the world of work for the first time, in a foreign country, using an unfamiliar language away from family and friends! That’s a tall order!”.

Yes, it is a tall order. But I can deliver it, and if I can deliver it with my head held high, then the fading bruises will soon be forgotten.