Student Journal

St. Mark’s student Amanda Pastyrnak provided a page from the journal she kept during a recent School Year Abroad trip to Spain.

The view from the tiny town of Alquezar, where Amanda and fellow students traveled their first weekend in Spain.

It is 2 p.m. on Wednesday and my last class of the day, AP Spanish Literature, has just let out. My stomach is growling, as I missed my toasted croissant this morning during our daily 45-minute coffee break. Before I came to Spain, I could count on one hand the times I had drunk coffee, but now, if at least three strong Spanish cups are not part of my daily routine, it is quite difficult to make it through the day. Today I had used the morning break to get some last-minute work done, and now I am more than ready for lunch. Every school day we have an hour-and-a-half lunch break, which we usually spend eating in the comedor of the Spanish high school down the street, where we also are able to meet and converse with Spanish kids our age. On Fridays, when school ends at 1 p.m., we are given money to go out to eat on the town. Our school building is located as close to the center of Zaragoza as a building can get without being in the middle of a public plaza. This means that everywhere you turn there is a quaint and affordable café or restaurant emitting the delicious aromas of a seafood paella or Spain’s signature tortilla de patata. In order to fully immerse ourselves in the Spanish culture, we have gotten used to traveling and exploring the city in small groups of two or three. With this system, we avoid being an imposing and intimidating mass of American students invading the Spanish lunch scene.

Although it is the middle of winter and the air is cold and crisp, I can’t resist the urge to open the windows for a moment to let some of the outside in and to listen to the muted noises of the city, whose lights are visible in the space between a tree in our yard and the house next door.

After my meal in the comedor I head over to the town library with a couple of friends because we have a few hours before we need to meet up with the rest of the school for our weekly cultural activity. Sometimes the activity is a guest speaker, a movie, a field trip, or a free afternoon; this week we are going to visit the 3,000-year-old, almost fully preserved Roman amphitheater in the Casco Viejo, or old section of the city.

As my friends and I are walking back to the center of town after this adventure, I realize that in less than an hour I am scheduled to play English teacher to Carlos, a young Spanish boy in my neighborhood. I give each of my friends a rushed double kiss farewell, bid them hasta luego!, and run down Independencia to catch the next bus home.

Amanda, at right, and her friend, Amelie, at a Thanksgiving party hosted by Amanda’s Spanish school

At 8 o’clock I am walking up the path to my back door, praying that after an hour of “It’s ‘g-uard, not ‘w-ard’,” I can get back into Spanish mode for the highlight of my day: family dinner. I heard a rumor that tonight we’d be having pulpo, and although I had never tried the novelty before coming to Spain, I’ve come to consider octopus one of my favorite new dishes. As soon as I walk in the door, the noises and smells effusing from the kitchen confirm my desire to be true.  I rush to clean up for the meal, which proves premature as we won’t begin eating until 9:30 at the earliest. I sit down at my desk, right next to the large, French-door like windows in my room. Although it is the middle of winter and the air is cold and crisp, I can’t resist the urge to open the windows for a moment to let some of the outside in and to listen to the muted noises of the city, whose lights are visible in the space between a tree in our yard and the house next door. I settle down again and begin an analysis on Los Fusilamientos de La Moncloa by Goya, when I hear the ever welcomed ring of my mother’s voice as she announces dinner: “A cenar!”

The dinner conversation tonight begins with Uxue, my 11-year-old sister, telling us about her adventures at school. I then break in to describe the new love of my life, whom I saw on the bus today. My family has come to expect that I meet a different future husband every time I return home from exploring the streets of Zaragoza. After a satisfying meal of octopus and black rice, followed by a miniature cup of coffee, I feel ready to end my perfect day with a perfect night’s sleep. I crawl into my bed and think about what time I need to wake up the following morning. I decide on 6:30, as this will allow for a relaxing shower and breakfast before I head to my internship with a fashion designer at her office in the city. I go to sleep tonight looking forward to the morning, seeing my friends, meeting new friends, and of course, tomorrow night’s menu.