My name is Noah Keene. I’m a sophomore at Calvin College, I’ve been in Spain for 7 days, and the last 48 hours have been some of the most difficult of my life.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. First, a quick and hopefully humorous recap of my first week to lighten up what may otherwise be a very bleak blog post.

9/2: First time on a plane. I survived it. I then went on to tour the city of Toledo and learned the hard way that public bathrooms are few and far between in Spain. We toured a cathedral with our very cool tour guide, Enrique.

9/3: I had my first and last cup of coffee, and gained a good idea of what charcoal would taste like as well as respect for frequent coffee-drinkers. We drove 6 hours to the city of Grenada, a ride that taught me I need to stay out of prison because I could not handle solitary confinement. We visited a cathedral. I also saw this guy:

9/4: We drove to the city of Córdoba. This day was very hot. We visited a cathedral. (Noticing a pattern?) We then crashed in the city of Seville for the night, and I bungled my Spanish at Spala Imagen, the restaurant we ate at, and only ordered a tapa/appetizer. (FORESHADOWING!)

9/5: We toured Seville. Three guesses as to what we toured. Here they are: 1. a cathedral 2. a cathedral 3. a cathedral. We also passed by the Maestranza Bullring, which is a very historic bullring in Seville. This night was the night we discovered how freakin’ awesome the staff of our hostel was and the second night we ate at Spala Imagen. I ordered a plato this time.

9/6: A quick last walk through Seville, and on to the city of Mérida. We did not visit a cathedral; instead, we visited a Roman amphitheater that had been built while Spain was still Roman territory. I mustered a lot of self-control and did not yell “ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!?”, self-control that was for nothing because I will post it here:

I also got this picture of Enrique that made any downsides to Mérida worth it:

9/7: My first international birthday. Celebrations consisted of visiting a cathedral (yay?), my classmate Kennedy calling out “BIRTHDAY BOIIIIIIIIIIIIII!” at random intervals, eating chorizos at what I’m pretty sure was a Renaissance fair, getting a Punisher T-shirt at said Renaissance fair, and watching The Dark Knight with my friend Max in the room the two of us got to share. This day also marked the departure of Enrique. 😥

9/8: After a failed attempt to visit the castle the maybe-Renaissance fair took place outside of, we made our last stop in the mining town of Carucedo. The landscape could be compared to the red rock formations in the American Southwest:

The above picture is the roof of a cave that me and my classmates explored. Fears were faced as I made my way up a pretty sheer, sketchy path to the body of the cave. No pictures were taken, and I still have to wash all of the red dust out of that set of clothes. We then drove to a rest stop, I ate gas station steak (one commonality between US and Spain: gas station food is muy mal), and then drove to our home destination of Oviedo.

Which brings me to the last 48 hours.

The term “language barrier” is often thrown around when referring to people trying to communicate with different languages. The term is very accurate. Even in the first few minutes of meeting Elisa and José Villa, my host family, confusion ensued. I sat down in the backseat of their car and noticed a booster seat. I pored the deep corners of my brain, looking for the Spanish for “Do you have a grandchild?” I sagged a little as the Spanish eluded me.

The language barrier is a perfect way to describe the feeling: like you and the other person are on two sides of a thick concrete wall, and even though you yell at the top of your lungs, they only barely pick it up.

More frustrating are the moments of clarity followed by the relapse into confusion. This morning, I made it relatively smoothly through breakfast. I remembered the names of the food I ate, slipped on my house shoes when Elisa reminded me I wasn’t wearing them, and accepted a house key. OK, I’m improving. Then they asked if I was going out with my classmates. Uhhhh…crap.

The language barrier puts you in an odd place. I certainly don’t want to hide away from my host family–hey, thanks for letting me live here! Just gonna camp out in my room and only come out when I need my clothes washed!–but at the same time, how do you interact with people who you can only speak to in fragments?

I think Spain will be an adventure, but it will be an adventure with a rough start.

Un Hombre Estoy Muy Confundido,

Noah