A letter to an Erasmus Student

Dear Erasmus student,

                  I have just finished my year abroad and I would be lying if I said that it wasn't the best year of my life so far. However, it was no picnic and perhaps if I had known some things beforehand it may have been easier. So, here is what I learnt on my year abroad and maybe you can take away some advice from it to help your life next year.

Firstly, even before you leave stop worrying!! If you are only a tiny bit worried or completely dreading the thought of moving abroad just stop! Enjoy the time you have with your friends and family at home and don't dwell on the future too much. I know the prospect of moving to a country or city you have never been to before is really flipping scary but you will be absolutely fine in about a week. Everything takes a little time to settle but once it does you will forget about home...at least until your parents Skype call you, worrying if you are still alive.

Now most people find places to live when they are in the country and it is a really good way of doing it. You get to see the flat and meet the people you live with. This next point I can not stress enough:

LIVE WITH NATIVE STUDENTS!!!!

1. Your language will get better over night.
2. You will get to do things a normal student in the city would do (The differences between a normal student and Erasmus student are disgustingly clear)
3. Foreign students are normally crazy so you a guaranteed to have a good time.
4. Their cooking is pretty darn good.

Also, try hanging out with the foreign students too. I know it is easy to flock to people who are from the same country as you (very guilty!) but it won't improve your language in the long run.

Don't stress too much about class or not understanding everything fully. You won't be the first or the last to feel like you being there is useless. It's not the end of the world. Also, don't pass up the opportunity to do something because you have class. If there is a trip or a party or something completely spontaneous happens then go with it. You are there to have fun as well as learn a bit.

Disappeared to Ibiza for a bit...

If you feel like you hate being abroad then talk to someone. Anyone. Don't keep it bottled up inside because it will just get you down and you will want to go home. If you are spending all your time on Skype and flying home you are truly wasting an incredible experience. The people who love you will still be there when you get back and not a lot will have changed with them.

Keep an open mind about the people you are going to meet. It's just like starting uni all over again, everyone is just as nervous as you are and keen to make friends. So don't cut anyone out straight away because you don't know if that weird American guy or the quiet German girl will do something incredibly lovely for you.

Finally, don't wish away your time because in a blink of an eye you will be on your flight back home, snivelling into the arms of your friends who carried your surplus stuff back about all the amazing people you met and the incredible things you have done. When your feet finally hit British soil you will be a completely different person than who you were a year ago.

Good luck and stay safe! x Pin It

The Bull Fight

A bit of a controversial topic for this post.

I am a firm believer in the saying never judge a book by it's cover and so when I was given the opportunity to go and watch a bull fight at Murcia's Plaza de Toros I wasn't about to pass it up. Before yesterday I never really had a particularly strong opinion on one of Spain's most honoured traditions unlike a lot of people I know, so it didn't bother me about going although as it drew closer I became more weary of the idea.

Normally Plaza de Toros houses one of Murcia's popular clubs, Musik but once in a blue moon it is used for its original purpose. Crowds of people waited patiently for tickets and as I looked around I realised it wasn't just the older generation attending but, children no older that 5 were also there eagerly anticipating the fight. Of course not everyone was thrilled at the idea of the slaughtering of bulls as the row of protesters proved. The presence of the police made me wonder if there was going to be an unexpected riot and made me a little nervous to say the least. Although bull fights are a tradition in Spain and other Mediterranean and South American countries there are people in said countries who believe it is inhumane and fight for the rights of the animals which are forced to take part.

We took our seats in the rafters of the bull ring sitting on little more than slats of wood with people sitting shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. The first fight had already started when we sat down and so we immediately turned our attention to the toreador and the bull. The first occurred with the toreador riding a horse which added to the spectacle and danger of the fight. The bull charged and the horse dodged with expert precision. The toreador took barbed sticks (banderillas) and thrusted them between the bull's shoulder blades as he charged. This went on for about 10 minutes with some very strong attacks from the bull to try and push the toreador off his horse. Eventually the bull slowed in his attacks and the toreador dismounted and came face to face with the bull. This was the moment. A hush fell over the crowd but I am still uncertain if it was as a mark or respect or if the roar of the crowd made the bull wild and endangered the toreador. Before I could decide if I was going to watch or not it was over, the bull was on the floor and the crowd was going crazy waving white handkerchiefs as a sign of appreciation.

There were 6 more bulls and 6 more toreadors to go who were all on foot and each fight occurred in a similar format. Each toreador would try and outdo the last with more daring moves, one even put his head on the head of the bull. The more courageous they were the more the audience responded and the louder the live band played. If the audience liked the toreador they waved their handkerchiefs up to the mayor's box and he would decide if the toreador could claim a trophy ear from the bull and a tail was awarded for an exceptional performance.

The entire situation was completely surreal and I couldn't exactly get my head around it. Although I had heard it was a brutal act I couldn't stop watching it. It was almost hypnotic and as if the toreadors were dancing with the bulls rather than attacking them maliciously. I have struggled not to call each fight a 'show' but if you watch, it nearly is. The men in the ring play to the crowd and provide this huge bravado that keeps the audience entertained, making them cheer louder each time the bull is struck.It is easy to forget that it is actually happening and the animal is feeling pain.  Only when you see the bull limping and gushing blood from it's back at the end of the fight does reality hit you that it is all real and that indeed the creature is going to die in the space of a minute. The final moments of the fight are the ones that stick with you. The silence of the crowd, the blood on the sand and the connection you can see between the bull and the fighter right until the very end.

Although I can't say I would go to a bull fight again I am glad that I have experienced one of the most controversial traditions in Spanish history. I can see how it is popular amongst many people but also see the points of view of activists but I wouldn't have known if I hadn't gone. I would also like to add that the money from the evening went towards a Spanish cancer charity.

What are your views on Bull Fighting? Have you ever seen one or would you like to? Pin It

Notes of a Wanderer

Leave the house without a map in a city you have never visited. Does it matter if you get lost and walk around the back streets for an hour? Depending on the time of day not really. Explore everywhere.

Don't be afraid of meeting new people, it is part of the experience. 

Use whatever means possible to make yourself understood. Even if it means miming a lightbulb to the lady in the supermarket.

Become a local don't just follow the tourists. If there is a bar or restaurant jam packed with natives on a Tuesday night there is bound to be a reason. It is probably a good sign if there appears to be no order to proceedings and everything seems to be a bit crazy.

The people who stare at you on the street are curious, not rude. When they start to shout at you then there is probably a problem. 

Appreciate what is happening in the place you are in. It doesn't matter if things are falling apart elsewhere.

Take pictures. Not of buildings and famous monuments but of the funny moments and the people you shared everything with.

Don't buy eggs that are already hard boiled. Unless of course you want eggs that are already hard boiled. Look at what you are buying properly otherwise your hungover self will hate you later.

Wear comfortable shoes. No one likes the grumpy person with blisters.

Don't climb out of your bedroom window to take pictures. At least put shorts on rather than a skirt, it might be easier.

I think that is about everything I learnt this week. I will probably think of other things. Maybe. 

A room with a view

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Arrivederci Bergamo! Hola Murcia!

After three months of living in Italy my time has drawn to a close. It makes me a little sad to know that I will no longer wake up and walk out of my front door to be greeted by the mountains or that I won't be nearly run over by a Vespa before I have made it to class. As much as I have complained about Bergamo to my friends, family and anybody else who is unfortunate enough to listen, it will always have a small corner in my heart.

The night before I left we sat reminiscing about everything that had happened to us in this crazy land. It took a good hour and a half before we confirmed we wouldn't change a thing.  The weekly aperitivo on a Thursday night was responsible for most of our stories but there were also other treasured moments. The trip to the mountain lodge sealed our friendship and was the beginning of some of our best adventures. Running around the streets of Bergamo in sheets on Halloween pretending to be ghost and trying to scare people in cars was also a highlight. Rome was so incredible that it has its own post! There are so many moments that I keep remembering for various reasons which all made my time in Bergamo amazing. Thank you to Whitney, Ellie and Sarah Jane for providing some brilliant entertainment and also moral support when Bergamo wasn't being so great (quite a lot).

The question is am I fluent in Italian now? Is the Erasmus experience working? At first I thought I knew about as much, if not less Italian than when I first arrived. Other than asking for two bus tickets or a caffe latte I didn't really feel like I was talking an awful lot of Italian. However, since arriving in Murcia I have actually had a nearly fully functional conversation with my Italian housemate. I say fully functional as I am now beginning to confuse my Italian and Spanish together (again). Nevertheless, it does prove that I must have taken in and understood a lot more than I actually realised. So, if you are contemplating an Erasmus semester or two then it is more worthwhile than it first appears. Even when you feel downhearted and stare blankly at people for at least 15 minutes until you understand what they have said, you are probably better than you think.

Murcia is a completely different place to Bergamo and after reading Martha's stories of the city I am hoping there will be a lot more to tell. But for now, I need to start figuring out what everyone is saying all over again.

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