Dispatches From Spain: Going Home and Reflections on Seville
When I was a 25-year-old college sophomore and majoring in Journalism/Mass Communications, I had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take part in an overseas-study program co-sponsored by Miami-Dade Community College’s Foreign Language Department and the College Consortium for International Studies.
At the time, I had just about taken most of the required courses for my Associate in Arts degree except math (my bete noir) and three credits’ worth of the foreign language pre-requisite. I had also, or so I thought, done everything I had set out to do as a reporter/editor at the campus student newspaper, so I was feeling a bit unmoored and restless without a plan for what I figured would be my final year on the staff.
Looking back on it now, I’m not sure what, exactly, prompted me to sign up for the Semester in Spain program. Part of it, I’m sure, was a sense that this would be my best chance to go to Europe for a significant amount of time. Maybe it was my journalist’s instinctive search for a good story. Or maybe it was youthful curiosity and thirst for adventure.
Well, whatever my reasons at the time were, I consulted with my mom whether or not I could afford it; with tuition, books, air fare, room and board plus extraneous expenses, the total cost would be $5,000.00, give or take a few hundred dollars. Fortunately, I had most of the money in my savings account, so Mom gave me her blessing (and some of the funding) and, in July of 1988, I applied – and was accepted – for a spot in the Semester in Spain program for the Fall Term.
Because I was majoring in Journalism/Mass Communications at the time, it occurred to me that it would be a swell idea to become, in essence, the student newspaper’s first foreign correspondent. After all, I had over two years of experience as a college journalist and knew, more or less, how to find stories on my own without an editor having to give me specific assignments. So, with the cocky confidence of a seasoned reporter, I asked my advisor and the editor of Catalyst if they’d sign off on my voluntary assignment in Seville. They did so, even going as far as lending me the newspaper’s backup Canon Sure Shot camera so I could shoot some photographs.
I arrived in Seville on September 21, 1988 and left on December 18, 1988. I took five courses – History of Spain, Spanish Government, and three advanced level Spanish language classes – totaling 15 credit hours. In addition, I went on all the day trips the program offered, as well as a longer overnight trip to the city of Granada.
While I had a great deal of fun as a participant in the Miami-Dade Community College/CCIS program and still believe that it was the best experience I had while I was in college, I have to admit that it was also a challenging experience. Not only was I on my own far away from home for the first time in my life, but I had to resist the temptation of turning a “study-abroad experience into a mere tourist excursion” and manage my time and money wisely.
Going Home
We're not quite ready to go home yet
Written in December 1988, published March 2, 1989)
Alex Diaz-Granados
Columnist
SEVILLE, Spain (CCIS Program)
The winter holiday season has arrived and here in Seville the 42 students participating in the CCIS Semester in Spain program are looking beyond the upcoming final exams and planning their return home or further European travel.
Already, they have celebrated Thanksgiving, traditionally a very homey holiday, truly away from home as they are 3,000 miles across the Atlantic Ocean.
Most of the group celebrated a traditional American Thanksgiving dinner, prepared by Italian chefs at the three-star restaurant Carlino. The meal, judging by the students' comments, was psychologically, if not gastronomically, successful.
"The group really came together," said Sandra Langlois, a freshman from Miami-Dade's South Campus. "It was really special for me because I am French, and it was my first American Thanksgiving. I really got the true feeling of the tradition of the holiday -- togetherness."
Now, a few weeks later, students' thoughts are geared to either further travel throughout the holiday or their homecoming.
Melissa Miller, a senior from Lake Forest College in Chicago, said, "I'll be spending the holidays in Vienna, Austria, so I'll be sure to have a white Christmas, and I won't be alone because I'm traveling with a bunch of friends."
However, the majority of the participants in the program are ready to go home -- some more than others.
"I'm ready to go home," said Bob Holzweiss, a junior from St. Bonaventure College in New York State. "I've been here 12 weeks, and that's enough."
"I miss the luxuries of home -- convenience stores and fast food joints -- and also my car, my family and friends," said Ingrid Gottlieb, a student from Broward Community College. "And I miss my boyfriend."
Others, such as Wendy Page, a sophomore from South Campus, decided to stay for the Spring Term.
"Three months is just not enough time for me to get a full taste of the culture and lifestyle that Seville has to offer," she said.
And although he's leaving at the end of the semester, Fairfield University's Mike Boucher agreed.
"A lot of good things have happened here in terms of self-discovery, friendship, independence, and sense of perspective, and I don't think I'm ready to go home."
Also contributing to this column is Michelle Kirby, foreign correspondent for Beacon, North Adams State College, Mass. and Mainsheet, Cape Cod CC's student newspaper.
Reflections on the Seville Experience
Spain was worth the expense and heartache it brought
(Catalyst, Opinions, March 16, 1989)
A few months ago and 3,000 miles across the Atlantic Ocean, I was sitting on a bench in Seville’s Cristina Park, thinking, as I often did, about things back home.
More specifically, I was thinking about my colleagues in the Catalyst staff and what was going on in the office while I was away.
I had been in Spain for three weeks, and although I had sent in some “copy” for them to edit (and hopefully publish), I hadn’t heard from anyone yet.
“Great,” I grumbled to myself as I sat on the park bench on that mid-October afternoon. “Here I am, 3,000 miles from home, feeling very depressed and I haven’t heard from the office yet.”
I had finally discovered that as much as I liked being a foreign correspondent, it was not (at least not at that particular moment) a very enviable position to hold in a college newspaper staff.
For starters, I had none of the usual facilities available to a professional reporter, i.e. telecommunications, underwater telegraph cables or even a computer.
My resources were just a bit more modest. To provide the 5,000-plus readers of this newspaper accurate accounts of 42 American students in Spain, I had a portable typewriter, a camera and a pad of air mail paper. Period.
Even so, this should have been sufficient for the task at hand, had I not had other things to do, such as attending classes and going on out-of-town trips.(You do study in a “study-abroad” program, you know.)
And, of course, there was the Spanish postal service to contend with.
Although 95 percent of the time most mail took a week to go from Spain to the United States, the remaining five percent of the time it involved my important mail to be affected by the “You Want It When?” corollary to Murphy’s Law.
To wit: a column I wrote in October (and sent, supposedly, via Special Delivery) did not arrive in three days as the Spanish postal worker who sold me the 200 pesetas’ worth of stamps assured me it would.
Actually, that column took two weeks to reach my colleagues here, just in time for the Dec. 1, 1988 issue.
Add to that “writer’s block,” jet lag, constant interruptions from annoying roommates and low morale, and you’ve got a pretty good idea of what we collegiate foreign correspondents had to put up with.
My friend Michelle Kirby, who is a staff writer for Beacon, the North Adams State (Mass.) newspaper, had a bit more success at on-the-spot reporting than I, but fared no better at getting feedback from the home office.
“Look,” she said one day as we were working on a column, “I don’t mind doing this for the paper. It’s something different from what I do in North Adams, but I wish they’d tell me if my copy is getting there.”
“Yeah, but the folks back in the States have a lot on their minds and can’t spare the time to tell us anything,” I said.
“I know,” Michelle said, “but I still think it would be nice to hear from anyone at the office.”
“It sure would,” I said. “But it’s a moot point. We’re going to be home in a few weeks and we’ll see for ourselves what happened to our copy.”
As it turned out, things went well in the long run, even though at the time it didn’t look that way.
And when I’m asked whether or not it was all worth the expense, heartache and time involved, my reply is always the same.
It certainly was.
At the time, I had just about taken most of the required courses for my Associate in Arts degree except math (my bete noir) and three credits’ worth of the foreign language pre-requisite. I had also, or so I thought, done everything I had set out to do as a reporter/editor at the campus student newspaper, so I was feeling a bit unmoored and restless without a plan for what I figured would be my final year on the staff.
Looking back on it now, I’m not sure what, exactly, prompted me to sign up for the Semester in Spain program. Part of it, I’m sure, was a sense that this would be my best chance to go to Europe for a significant amount of time. Maybe it was my journalist’s instinctive search for a good story. Or maybe it was youthful curiosity and thirst for adventure.
Well, whatever my reasons at the time were, I consulted with my mom whether or not I could afford it; with tuition, books, air fare, room and board plus extraneous expenses, the total cost would be $5,000.00, give or take a few hundred dollars. Fortunately, I had most of the money in my savings account, so Mom gave me her blessing (and some of the funding) and, in July of 1988, I applied – and was accepted – for a spot in the Semester in Spain program for the Fall Term.
Because I was majoring in Journalism/Mass Communications at the time, it occurred to me that it would be a swell idea to become, in essence, the student newspaper’s first foreign correspondent. After all, I had over two years of experience as a college journalist and knew, more or less, how to find stories on my own without an editor having to give me specific assignments. So, with the cocky confidence of a seasoned reporter, I asked my advisor and the editor of Catalyst if they’d sign off on my voluntary assignment in Seville. They did so, even going as far as lending me the newspaper’s backup Canon Sure Shot camera so I could shoot some photographs.
I arrived in Seville on September 21, 1988 and left on December 18, 1988. I took five courses – History of Spain, Spanish Government, and three advanced level Spanish language classes – totaling 15 credit hours. In addition, I went on all the day trips the program offered, as well as a longer overnight trip to the city of Granada.
While I had a great deal of fun as a participant in the Miami-Dade Community College/CCIS program and still believe that it was the best experience I had while I was in college, I have to admit that it was also a challenging experience. Not only was I on my own far away from home for the first time in my life, but I had to resist the temptation of turning a “study-abroad experience into a mere tourist excursion” and manage my time and money wisely.
Going Home
We're not quite ready to go home yet
Written in December 1988, published March 2, 1989)
Alex Diaz-Granados
Columnist
SEVILLE, Spain (CCIS Program)
The winter holiday season has arrived and here in Seville the 42 students participating in the CCIS Semester in Spain program are looking beyond the upcoming final exams and planning their return home or further European travel.
Already, they have celebrated Thanksgiving, traditionally a very homey holiday, truly away from home as they are 3,000 miles across the Atlantic Ocean.
Most of the group celebrated a traditional American Thanksgiving dinner, prepared by Italian chefs at the three-star restaurant Carlino. The meal, judging by the students' comments, was psychologically, if not gastronomically, successful.
"The group really came together," said Sandra Langlois, a freshman from Miami-Dade's South Campus. "It was really special for me because I am French, and it was my first American Thanksgiving. I really got the true feeling of the tradition of the holiday -- togetherness."
Now, a few weeks later, students' thoughts are geared to either further travel throughout the holiday or their homecoming.
Melissa Miller, a senior from Lake Forest College in Chicago, said, "I'll be spending the holidays in Vienna, Austria, so I'll be sure to have a white Christmas, and I won't be alone because I'm traveling with a bunch of friends."
However, the majority of the participants in the program are ready to go home -- some more than others.
"I'm ready to go home," said Bob Holzweiss, a junior from St. Bonaventure College in New York State. "I've been here 12 weeks, and that's enough."
"I miss the luxuries of home -- convenience stores and fast food joints -- and also my car, my family and friends," said Ingrid Gottlieb, a student from Broward Community College. "And I miss my boyfriend."
Others, such as Wendy Page, a sophomore from South Campus, decided to stay for the Spring Term.
"Three months is just not enough time for me to get a full taste of the culture and lifestyle that Seville has to offer," she said.
And although he's leaving at the end of the semester, Fairfield University's Mike Boucher agreed.
"A lot of good things have happened here in terms of self-discovery, friendship, independence, and sense of perspective, and I don't think I'm ready to go home."
Also contributing to this column is Michelle Kirby, foreign correspondent for Beacon, North Adams State College, Mass. and Mainsheet, Cape Cod CC's student newspaper.
Reflections on the Seville Experience
Spain was worth the expense and heartache it brought
(Catalyst, Opinions, March 16, 1989)
A few months ago and 3,000 miles across the Atlantic Ocean, I was sitting on a bench in Seville’s Cristina Park, thinking, as I often did, about things back home.
More specifically, I was thinking about my colleagues in the Catalyst staff and what was going on in the office while I was away.
I had been in Spain for three weeks, and although I had sent in some “copy” for them to edit (and hopefully publish), I hadn’t heard from anyone yet.
“Great,” I grumbled to myself as I sat on the park bench on that mid-October afternoon. “Here I am, 3,000 miles from home, feeling very depressed and I haven’t heard from the office yet.”
I had finally discovered that as much as I liked being a foreign correspondent, it was not (at least not at that particular moment) a very enviable position to hold in a college newspaper staff.
For starters, I had none of the usual facilities available to a professional reporter, i.e. telecommunications, underwater telegraph cables or even a computer.
My resources were just a bit more modest. To provide the 5,000-plus readers of this newspaper accurate accounts of 42 American students in Spain, I had a portable typewriter, a camera and a pad of air mail paper. Period.
Even so, this should have been sufficient for the task at hand, had I not had other things to do, such as attending classes and going on out-of-town trips.(You do study in a “study-abroad” program, you know.)
And, of course, there was the Spanish postal service to contend with.
Although 95 percent of the time most mail took a week to go from Spain to the United States, the remaining five percent of the time it involved my important mail to be affected by the “You Want It When?” corollary to Murphy’s Law.
To wit: a column I wrote in October (and sent, supposedly, via Special Delivery) did not arrive in three days as the Spanish postal worker who sold me the 200 pesetas’ worth of stamps assured me it would.
Actually, that column took two weeks to reach my colleagues here, just in time for the Dec. 1, 1988 issue.
Add to that “writer’s block,” jet lag, constant interruptions from annoying roommates and low morale, and you’ve got a pretty good idea of what we collegiate foreign correspondents had to put up with.
My friend Michelle Kirby, who is a staff writer for Beacon, the North Adams State (Mass.) newspaper, had a bit more success at on-the-spot reporting than I, but fared no better at getting feedback from the home office.
“Look,” she said one day as we were working on a column, “I don’t mind doing this for the paper. It’s something different from what I do in North Adams, but I wish they’d tell me if my copy is getting there.”
“Yeah, but the folks back in the States have a lot on their minds and can’t spare the time to tell us anything,” I said.
“I know,” Michelle said, “but I still think it would be nice to hear from anyone at the office.”
“It sure would,” I said. “But it’s a moot point. We’re going to be home in a few weeks and we’ll see for ourselves what happened to our copy.”
As it turned out, things went well in the long run, even though at the time it didn’t look that way.
And when I’m asked whether or not it was all worth the expense, heartache and time involved, my reply is always the same.
It certainly was.
Copyright ©2012 Alex Diaz-Granados. All Rights Reserved.
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