Live with a Host Family

Living with a host family was something I was most nervous about before I left for Spain.  I was pleased to have the opportunity to be live with locals and force myself to assimilate into the culture, however I was weerly about the amount of time. Two weeks seemed to be an awfully long time to akwardly attempt to assimilate and communicate with them, yet not long enough where both parties know they have to make this work. It is most likely that I felt this way because I didn´t know much about the family and hadn´t been able to contact them before hand.  Nevertheless my time living with a host family flew by and now I wish I was still living with them.  In all, I highly recommend living with a host family, yes there is that slight possibility that things could go terribly wrong, but it is a great way to transition into a new culture and make a new home in a foreign land.

Before arriving, all I knew were their names, their occupation, and their address.

Once I arrived, I showed up at their door step ... and stared at the doorbell.  I needed to build the courage to put myself in such an uncomfortable and foreign position.  I knew a first impression would be important and set the mood for the rest of our time together.  My goal was to interact and learn from them as much as I could. So to ensure that our conversations went smoothly I wanted to have some prepared sentences in my head as a backup.  One would think the 10 hours of a plane ride would be enough, however, when the time came to finally introduce myself I froze.

Nevertheless I built up the courage, held my breath, and managed to spit out my name when my host mother answered over the intercom of the doorbell. 

After that, it only took me about 10 minutes to realize I really lucked out on the family I was parred with.  On the very first day they explained everything I needed to know. Their Valencia Guide 101 included how to get to class, to get downtown, to make friends at school,  and how to take advantage of what the city has to offer.  In fact, at one time they were both foreigners to the city themselves -- the mother having moved here from Italy and the father having moved here from Peru -- they knew what it was like to come to Valencia for the first time.  

Nevertheless, even with my prepared sentences I made many mistakes in our conversation (one of which saying that I had a son - which brought a very shocked expression) (another was when I called cherries beer, which brought some jolly laughter).  Nevertheless they kindly corrected me and we shared some giggles. 

In addition to their support and understanding, the mother was an excellent cook.  It may have been from her Italian background but man o man could she whip up a delicious bowl of gazpacho and tortilla (two very traditional spanish dishes).  I was really fortunate to have such nutritional and delicious home-cooked meals, especially since I hear of other students complaining that they never had enough food o it was a sorry attempt to cook something America .

Another perk of living with this young family was their two-year-old adorable monkey(since he liked to climb everything) son, Raúl.  It was really nice to have someone as the center of attention and someone who was willing to provide entertainment in the awkward moments of silence.  Also, I saw a great connection between my younger brother and him; it was the ultimate alinate to avoid feeling homesickness

Now it is too quiet. I can't hear Raul little voice down the hall as he chases after the ball or Emanualeza and Miguel as they exchange what happen in their day.  Now it feels like there is something missing.  Even though I only spent a couple of hours with them a dau, I still miss being part of a family and having people have a nice spanish conversation with over dinner.