Moving in with my Second Host Family

It almost feels as if I never left Barcelona, it was rightly put that being in Barcelona resembled something of a dream when I was back in England, and now I’m back in Barcelona it’s the same feeling with my trip back home. It doesn’t feel completely real. My time at home for Christmas and New Year seemed to fly by, a lot quicker than I hoped it would. The holidays left me with too many variations in moods. Recently, my love for Christmas seems to have deteriorated, instead of being excited for it, I am wishing for it to be over. You can call me Scrooge. It’s similar with New Year, as I have never truly understood the hype behind it. I think a lot of the time it sets us up for disappointment if we don’t meet the expectations we make for ourselves. I made two slight resolutions of not eating chocolate, and not drinking alcohol however neither of them lasted a week, but does it really matter? I remember writing something similar last year in a post, how in reality we can change ourselves whenever we want, we don’t need to wait for a new year to begin.

On the 5^th January I flew back to Barcelona, and it’s strange how within the short space of a 2-hour flight time, the cultures that surround us can change so diversely, as well as the weather. No, the weather in Barcelona really isn’t as hot as you may expect for Spain (I cannot use Catalonia here), please remember that it is very northern, instead of in the south. However, the weather is nicer than England, even when it’s a bit chilly, the sun is still blazing and Seasonal Affective Disorder seems a lot less common. There is no myth behind it, it’s scientifically proven that the weather really can affect our moods. Rain in Barcelona is very unlikely, it means that there is no need to constantly carry an umbrella with you. The other day the girl in my host family strangely jumped for joy at the slight chance of rain, however the rain ended up not making an appearance. For me, I was very relieved at the sight of no rain.

There is something really lovely about the Spanish way of life, of course it is in no way perfect. What is perfection? They seem to be more relaxed, and at ease, just generally happier. The children are full of life and develop personalities at a very early age. As much as I can endure the Spanish life and let myself be immersed in it, from time to time, I am faced with the reality that I am and always will be British. Sigh.

Two Thursdays ago, I moved in with my new family. Their apartment is on the top floor of a building that is situated in the centre of the city, the room I have overlooks one side of the city. The view I wake up to is in the picture below. Fortunately, we had contact over the Christmas break, including humorous 'selfies' being exchanged. All of this made it less daunting. I was nervous about leaving the comfort of my first host family, but within the short space of 48 hours, the ice had been broken by me almost falling asleep in their company, and having the ten year old boy teach me how to play Call of Duty, as well as kill me several times on it. I really do wonder why I worry so much, it’s slightly unavoidable with me, but things have been going well here. 

A part of the day I really enjoy is dinner time, not just for the food, but because it’s when we are all sat at the table together and conversing with one another. I find myself almost choking on my food most nights because the family have me in hysterics. You've got to hand it to them, the Catalan are funny. I think they share a similar sense of humour to us Brits. In England, I am not used to eating at the table with my family, we are usually sat in front of the television unless it’s a special occasion. It’s nice being sat at the table with no distraction, just our social skills to play with. Eating dinner isn’t your quick in-and-out event, it’s a period of around an hour to an hour and a half. You lose track of time, because you’re caught up in continuous chatter, learning about their life, and teaching them about your own.

I write this blog post, snuggled up in a blanket that the host family bought me, when they gave me the presents they stated that the three kings brought them for me, they further explained wanting me to feel at home. Some people reading this may be really against the idea of living with a host family, and in other cases it isn’t always as rosy as mine have been, but if you let yourself endure it and do it right, it’s really unforgettable. You don’t do this type of experience if you think it’s basically a free hotel; you get involved, you spend time and really get to know the families, forming relationships with each member. For me coming to Barcelona wasn’t about constantly partying and drinking copious amounts of alcohol, it was about getting teaching experience, whilst finding the culture, living the Spanish way of life, meeting people I will never forget, and lastly becoming part of a family other than my own. I can confidently say that the two families I have lived with already are people I would like to keep in touch with. I hope that in later years they can come and visit me in England, or maybe even send their children to live with me and my own family. The families I have had so far have helped me feel settled, comfortable, and stopped me missing home. At some points, feeling homesick is inevitable but more often than none, I barely dwell on my life at home. At times, the fear of change can be an on-going anxiety, but I realised that yes, things naturally change, but relationships with friends will stay the same no matter where I go. It's experiences like this where you learn, not only about yourself, but people around you. Those people that truly matter will always be in your life, even when you can’t see them as often as you’re used to.

The more time I spend in Barcelona, the more I discover, straying away from the typical tourist attractions, and instead seeing life from a local perspective. I don’t want to be labelled as a tourist because after a couple of months of living here, I believe that label should be dropped. I want to see and learn more than just Las Ramblas, the Sagrada Familia, Camp Nou, and the beach. Although all of the above are without-a-doubt, interesting things to explore. Last term, I had a phase of really missing home, as my friend said to me on the phone, 'the grass always seems greener on the other side', when I was in Barcelona I kept wanting to be back home, and when I was home at Christmas, I kept wanting to be back in Barcelona. Our minds are fickle things, especially my own, but currently I know I'm going to really struggle leaving Barcelona in June, thank god it's still another five months away, eh?

Take care,

Laura May.