Salamanca, Spain
I am forever changed by the time I spent studying abroad in Salamanca, Spain. I hope that this video captures the Golden City and the amazing program that I was able to take part in there through Academic Programs International.
Click here to check out some of my other blog posts from Salamanca!
-Video filmed and produced by Lo Martinez
Bilbao, Spain
I made this video for Academic Programs International to show the city of Bilbao, Spain, one of the many cities in which API hosts a study abroad program! I hope you enjoy!
Click here to see a video with ALL of API Spain’s options!
API Granada
One of the best experiences I had while studying abroad was when I visited Granada, Spain. I really felt like I got a true taste of their unique Andalusian culture with a Moorish twist. Below if the video I made for API Granada, for Academic Programs International! Check it out, I really think it captures the city!
Special thanks to Marik and Joey, the best tour guides and friends you could ever ask for!
API Seville
Academic Programs International sent me to Seville, Spain to check out their program- API Seville. Here is the video I made to capture the study abroad experience they offered there. Check it out below or on their YouTube Channel!
You can also read about my experience in Seville during Semana Santa!
-All content was produced by Lo Martinez
API Cádiz
Check out this video I produced for Academic Programs International- API Cádiz! One of many study abroad options API offers in Spain!
- All filming and editing was done exclusively by Lo Martinez.
Visiting the Hospital while Studying Abroad
Study Abroad Lesson Learned:
Don’t blow off the “Doctor’s office” vocab lesson in Spanish or any other language. Contrary to what you might believe, you may actually need that specialized vocabulary someday…
I hopped my way up the steps of the hospital and stopped at the large glass door.
My foot was weighed down my ice-packed ankle wrap, and the throbbing pain was reinforced with every small step I attempted to take. Luckily, not two seconds after entering the building, I was swept up in wheel chair by one of the nurses.
She immediately began to chat with me in quick, flowing Spanish. When I say “chat with me” I really mean talk at me until my furrowed brow gave my foreign nature away.
As it dawned on her that I wasn’t Spanish and completely confused, a soft pink flushed her cheeks and she excused herself to talk to my house manager, who was sorting out paper work at the reception desk.
I was left to sit there alone, shaking my head to myself.
I must be dreaming..
"Urgencias" The Emergency Room
“Lo, ahora nos vamos a hablar con el medico. Vale?” Pilar said with a sweet and comforting smile.
We’re going to go talk to the doctor now.
She walked even paced right by my side as an attending nurse pushed me through the halls.
We arrived at the doctors office and, after being complimented on my ice wrap (score), I as assured it was most-likely just a sprain. The doctor sent me to have a few x-rays taken just to be sure.
well this machine's not intimidating at all..
We wound through the hospital until we reached the apple-green x-ray room. I listened to the nurse’s direction and went through all the motions, distracting myself by pondering over why in the world a hospital would go with apple green for the color of their x-ray room…
Fast forward two X-rays and a walk to an exam room later and I found myself letting out a weird mixture of a laugh and a weep. I felt like I was literally choking on reality.
I had kept my spirits up as much as I could through the whole ordeal but I had finally, finally lost my hold. It was time for the “breaking the news” conversation.
I’ve looked for the equivalent of this phrase in Spanish and the best I can come up with is “dar la noticia…”
Here’s how it went:
“Todo está bien,si? No está roto?” I asked the doctor with fingers crossed.
“No…” but as the doctor began his reply, I shot up and cut him off instead.
el medico... the doctor
“No como: Si, no está roto? Solo esquince? Por. Favor.” I pleaded and hoped but already knew Spanish grammar well enough to know that my version was NOT what he meant.
He pointed about the back-lit x-ray and explained to me that I had a fracture. As he further explained to me that the swelling was too severe to hard-cast my leg, I started to laugh.
I haven’t really pointed this out yet, but literally no one in the hospital spoke English.
When the doctor asked me if I was ok, I responded yes, that I just thought it was “muy, muy bien” that I could actually understand everything he was saying…
He and Pilar laughed and we moved on to casting me up.
I was in a state of disbelief, repeating “Mi madre va a matarme..” as he put my left leg in a thick half-cast.
Breaking Bones Abroad
“Everything happens for a reason, everything happens for a reason. “
This is the mantra I repeated to myself again and again as I stared down, focusing on my stark white cast marked with thin lines of red. The hospital floor was nothing but a moving blur beneath me.
You’re probably wondering how I got to this point… how I found myself in a Spanish hospital with a wad of tissues in one hand and my x-rays in the other. Well, no need to hold your breath in suspense. Here it is, lets just dive right in.
ACT 1: Two Legs
This wasn’t your typical night out on the town. Apart from being my first night out after the completion of my academic program with the University of Salamanca, it was also the first time in nearly two weeks that one of my closest friends, a Scottish girl named Jenny, was able to go out during the weekend.
Jenny and I in our natural environment
See, Jenny works in “PR” for Peter’s, one of the more Spanish Salamanca bars, located on Gran Via.
Basically, her job is to get you into the bar and keep you there. You’ve probably seen people doing this sort of job before in major cities across the world. Yepp, they’re the annoying one’s who (no offense JenJen!): ask you where you’re going, make polite conversation, and then hand you a small card with an offer for a free shot, drink deal, etc and lure you into a bar to be disappointed by a watered down shot, overly sugary mixed drink or flat draft beer…
Jenny usually has to work just about every night of the weekend, which is obviously the busiest time for someone in her, erm, line of work, but this weekend she was given the prime and golden Saturday evening off. We weren’t about to waste a minute.
We started out at the usual spots but by then end of the night, Jenny and I decided to break off and go over to Gran Via so I could see Peter’s and meet her fellow promoters. I had heard so many stories about her bar and “co-workers,” I was stoked to see and meet them all for the first time.
I was instantly charmed by all of her friends, and we found ourselves being coaxed past the line and into a few of Peter’s “brother establishments.” The music was great, the crowds lively, and I was having the time of my life with a great friend by my side. One of my favorite things about my Scottish gem Jenny is that she loves to dance just as much as I do, so oh, didwedance.
At the end of the night we were closing Peter’s and bidding everyone adieu at about 6 am– this is actually normal when you’re going out in Spain… After cutting the cue at a late night food stand by saying “Oh, no I know the owner..” (thanks Jen), we munched our snacks and skipped our way over to the Plaza to head on back home.
Act Two: One and a Half Legs
Welcome to Calle Torro
On the way up Calle Torro, we got the usual amount of attention that young women get while walking home at night (early morning). Here, we happened upon a group of Spanish gentlemen, belligerently drunk and part of a “fiesta del soltero.” Bachelor party.
Whoooooa are we in for a little mess…
“Rubia, Rubia.” Blondie, blondie. A “catcall” that Jenny is used to hearing “Ven aqui, Rubia.”
We gave them the usual “vete” and “no queremos hablar contigo” and a couple other colorful phrases not suitable for “la red,” but they didn’t seem to be taking a hint…
One of them reached out to touch Jenny’s hair and received a small smack of the wrist instead. He took this as a playful gesture and closed in to try to pick her up. Literally: pick her up.
This is when I got really protective and snapped for him to put her down and leave us alone. At this point, our drunk friend’s blood alcohol level had apparently robbed him of all senses and I’m pretty sure that he took my yelling as a sign that I wanted attention… that I must have been feeling left out, right?
He set Jenny down gently and turned to me with open arms. “Morena..” He said with a drunken smile.
and this is where it happened...
He came at me and then grabbed me around the thighs, hoisting me up into the air. This is when things get a little fuzzier. It all just happened so fast. I think his intent was to spin me around and set me back down, but my started flailing arms and the slick marble beneath us led him to drop me with a CRASH.
As my leg made contact with the floor, I felt a piercing pain jolt up my leg and I immediately coiled into the fetal position, like a turtle taking refuge into its shell. My yelp had apparently started the group of men and they bee-lined their way up a side street..
Oh, NOW you leave.. NOOOOW?! Great. Alright. What now..?
Jenny helped me pull my bruised self off the floor, and we started our way up the street to her apartment. About half way there, the searing pang that accompanied every limp became a little too much to bare… Biting my lip and forging on with pure determination, I was able to get to a taxi point and, with a few other missteps along the way, Jenny and I made it back to my residencia.
Act 3: One Leg (ARRR matey)
I woke with a stir at about half past seven with a grumble in my tummy and a craving for a slice of gluten-free toast.
I ripped the covers from off my legs and let out a yelp as I saw my left ankle.
my left ankle doesn't usually look like that...
“Jenny!” I squealed, wide-eyed and distressed.
“Wha… OH! Lo?! That looks horrible! Like HORRIBLE. What the…”
“Thank you Jenny, very helpful…”
After a quick conversation on the best course of action, Jenny helped get me some ice to take the swelling down. I took a few photos (of course) of the damage, left the ice on my ankle and tried to go back to sleep. When I woke up at two I saw that the swelling hadn’t gone down and, if anything, had gotten worse… Dios… Mio….
I tried to stand up, but it was obvious that standing– and walking– was a pipe-dream.
What did I do to myself… Or more, what did random-spanish-drunkguy do…
Still underestimating the gravity of my injury, I attempted to convince Pilar, my residencia manager, that I didn’t need to go to the hospital. I told her is was just esguince. sprained. She clearly wasn’t buying it.
So, shortly after failing to convey: “Oh no, I’m really going to be OK!” I hopped on one leg all the way out to Pilar’s car, and was taken to the hospital in Salamanca…
Traveling by Plane
“Te prometo, voy a superar la transportacion espanola!” I said to Maria, my program manager, as I retrieved my weekend trip information.
I will conquer Spanish transportation
She smiled at me as she usually does.
“No te preocupes Lo, lo harás.” she said.
Don’t worry, you will.
“I’m serious! I got this! ….wait, what’s the word for ticket again?”
Goodbye Salamanca, and hellooooo who-knows-where!
This weekend’s destination: Barcelona.
I find it impressive still, but in my four short days in the Catalan region of north-east Spain, I would utilize the bus, the bike, the air-o-plane, the metro, the taxi, and the train.
(sound like a children’s song doesn’t it?)
One of the most striking differences between my experience in the US and Spain is that, in Spain, I’ve been forced to use (and frequently) every sort transportation system imaginable.
In the US, I pretty much stick to two primary modes of transportation: walking and driving.
For long journeys we could add one more to the list: flying.
Public transportation kind of freaks me out… The twisting maps with confusing keys, the intense automated ticket machines… don’t laugh! I’m serious.
This was one of main the reasons I actually chose to study in my host city, Salamanca. There was a void in need for the use of any sort of public transportation system. (even though Salamanca is still equipped with every type you could think of… )
What I neglected to consider was that my traveling abroad would take me all over the country of Spain and beyond and thus force me to confront my subtle travel phobia.
I’ve had some interesting experiences with transportation, as you may have read in blogs of mine already. Because of this, I’ve decided I want to write about more than just point A and B, I want to spend a little time talking about that stretch between the A and the B.
So, without further adieu, here begins my “modes of travel series!” Hope you enjoy!
First up: PLANE*** (see below for bold print directions)
^^ this is actually scottland's lovely terrain
So I started in the Salamanca bus station, where all of my Spanish travels began.
Destination: Barcelona.
Madrid Airport Terminal 4
At 3 pm I boarded my Avanza, wifi-enhanced bus and we made our way to the MAD airport (Bajaras,) which is about 30 minutes from the city center of Madrid. The passengers were dropped off at terminals 1,2,and 3, but when I gazed at my ticket and saw a big bold T4. I sought out a friendly looking airport worker to ask how to get to the final terminal. Apparently, my terminal was a separate entity (of course) so I had to catch a terminal transport before reaching my final airport destination.
Fifteen minutes later, with luggage in tow, I hopped off the airport bus and was on my way to security with a printed Vuelling boarding pass in my hand.
I was actually kind of nervous about the whole online check-in thing. I thought, “I must be missing something… “ You know what they say: If it seems too easy, it probably is.
so close.... yet so far.
There is no way that I can just print off a piece of paper and THAT would be my boarding pass…
Were they really going to let me on my flight with that? I have photoshop! I could easily have copied and pasted info! HOW DO YOU KNOW MR AIRPORT GUY?!
Where is my fancy card-stock paper with perforated edge? Where is that little section that’s ripped off and handed back that you can throw in a scrapbook and reminisce over later?!
As I handed the lame printer paper and my passport to the serious-looking Spanish security guard, I asked “Está bien?” with a big, blinking, brown doe-eyes.
He squinted at me and said “Si, seguro.” With a tone of voice seeping “are you a little bit slow?” He added “Pasa pasa,” and waved me on from the line to the next step: the luggage x-ray and metal detector line… Well, that was anticlimactic.
In general, airport security is the same wherever you go, but my experience is that the big differences between the US and Spain are:
- In Spain, they care WAY less about the “4oz liquid rule.”
- You don’t have to take off your shoes! (YAY LESS CHANCE OF ATHLETES FOOT)
- You can’t count on anyone speaking English… but you should probably already be prepared for this.
I had a “beep-free” pass through the metal detector, so I stuffed my electronics back into my bursting carry-on bag and I emerged out into the main part of terminal to began looking for my departure gate.
I meandered over the big glowing screen containing all of the flight and gate information, and after 6 scans over it, didn’t see mine…
I rechecked the date on the ticket because, well, I would do that… Luckily it read the correct date and time.
I went to the help desk and asked them where I needed to go. Thank god I knew those directional words. Otherwise, I very well might have ended up in K rather than H! (or “kah” rather than “hah-chay”)
I made it there right in time to board! I realized that the flight was full and could see the hostesses making people stuff there carry-on bags into that dumb little metal demonstrator frame.
I did not. Want. to check. MYBAG. It had all my equipment and I just didn’t want to take a chance…
So what did I do?
What any normal person would do…
Took out my camera and laptop and sat on my backpack. I bounced up and down trying to thin it out, Spaniards giggling at me all-the-while…
Hmm… Still didn’t seem to be doing the trick.
Lightbulb!
FINALLY! ...sleepytime.
This is when I adorned a second shirt and sweater and tied my leather jacket around my waist. Needless to say, I was traveling in style. Oh how I wish I had a picture of this…
I was delighted to find myself with the window not the aisle, and almost immediately drifted into a deep travel sleep.
This is one of my new-found talents, being able to put myself in a tranquil coma for the duration of a flight or a long bus ride…
I was jostled awake by the contact of the airplanes wheels on the runway. Part one down, now it’s time to get out to the street and hail a cab!
*bold words translated below in Spanish
Vocab and phrases:
terminal- terminal del aeropuerto __
luggage- equipaje
security- seguridad
To go through security- pasar por seguridad
boarding pass- tarjeta de embarque
passport- passaporte
ID- carnet de identidad
departure gate- puerta de embarque
screen- pantalla
directional words= right, left, straight, turn around.
Right- derecha
Left- izquierda
Straight- recto
Turn around- dar una vuelta
carry-on bag- equipaje de mano
window- asiento de ventanilla
isle- asiento de pasillo
I would like a window seat.
Me gustaría un asiento de ventanilla.
Where is ______( American Airlines)?
Dondé está ________(American Airlines)?
Has the gate changed for flight?
La puerta de embarque del vuelo ha cambiado?
Where do I pick up my baggage?
Donde se recoge el equipaje?
MY FAVORITE: Here is my ticket, can you help me find my gate?
Aquí está mi tarjeta de embarque/billete, me puede(s) ayudar a encontrar mi puerta?
I’m sure I’ll think of more to add to this list! If you think of something leave a comment on this post and I’ll add it!
Night Life in Lisbon
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing hours with flying feet. ~George Gordon Byron, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage
<3
I feel I can strongly say that, not all, but the majority of college students studying abroad are interested in exploring the night life of whatever foreign city/country they are in.
As the sun slowly settles into the horizon of the west and the moon takes it’s throne in the center of the sky, whatever city lies below takes on a new light. (literally)
When you take your first breath of that nighttime air and acclimate yourself to the recently blackened streets, you get a funny feeling in the pit of your stomach.
You know you stand in the same spot as you did when the sun warmed your face earlier in the day, but now as rich glowing lights cast shadows about and people walk the streets dressed up in their best, the ambiance can trick you into thinking that you’re somewhere new.
When you initial night in a new city arrives, you’re excited. You know that now you get to meet the city’s “dark side” for the first time.
Hello, and welcome to the night.
The night life in Lisbon was wonderfully fun. It was actually the second night in town when I entered the cool night air with my friends in tow to experience Portuguese “vida noturna.” We headed out with some euros in our pockets and an address stored safely in my phone.
Alex, Emily and Shal (favorite canadians <3) and I at the docks (photo cred to Pablo)
After a hop skip and a jump we ended up at this stretch or bars/discotechs. The area is referred to as
“the docks,” and features an array of sites to drink, dance, sit or chat.
My group was eager to check out every. single. one.
Each bar had a slightly different bar, but they were all amazing if you are the type of person who likes to dance.
You could tell right away by the music if it was more of an “American bar” or a “European bar.” I’d suggest doing what we did and bouncing around from one to the next. There is no cover at any if you’re a lady. If you’re an hombre, most are free but there are a few spots you might have to pay a cover.
At the end of the night we were worn out and ready to grab that cab home… But before we reached this level of pure exhaustion, we learned a few lesson that I’d now like to share…They pretty much are applicable across the board.
Night Life Advice:
1. Be aware of taxi capacity laws. We were a group of five in a city were taxis get exorbitant fines if they take more than 4…
2. Be conscious of timing. A site could be absolutely amazing between a certain time span and completely dead in another. Ask around to make sure before you take a bus or pay for a cab.
3. Give the weather a gander.
that lluvia in Sevilla..
Nothing is worse than being caught out in the freezing cold or stuck in the rain without any preparation.
4. Know your limits. You have to
know your limits and if you’re in foreign country, for goodness sakes, you cannot push them… don’t be that guy and definitely don’t be that girl.
5. Get that three part worst-case-return checklist covered:
- 1. The name and address of wherever you are staying (written on you or something you think you can keep grips on.)
- 2. Enough reserve money to get you back in cab alone…don’t count on splitting.
- 3. City cab company phone number in case of an emergency
****quick interlude****
OK, before moving on I have to digress a little… I’m not going to bullet point “have a friend” because I feel as though I 
dont have to tell you it’s a bad idea to venture out alone in Europe or any city in the world. This should go without saying. (please tell me that goes without saying) When you go out alone or RETURN HOME alone, you are asking for trouble. I know people who have gotten into truley scary situations doing so, so I can say that it is not worth it and should never be done. I don’t care who you are, you need to have, at the very least, one person who is always by your side.
That being said, I’d like to move on to talk about my last bit of “night life advice,” which surrounds the idea of being a good member of the night life “group.”
- 4. Don’t be “that guy”- So there are a few archetypes I would like to warn you against being when you go out in that GROUP I know you’ll go out in, and a personal message to those who fit each bill:
—> The sloppers- obviously this is the “sloppy person” in the group. The “I’m sorry sir, he/she has had a little too much to drink tonight.” We all have either gone out with this person or have seen this person in another group and thought “their poor friends…” Dear sloppers: you’re an adult now, so no one wants to babysit you. (unless you offer to pay me atleast 10 euro an hour… then I may consider it…) Seriously though, even if you are going out with your good friends, they’re on vacati
on too so, trust me, they don’t WANT to be spend their time worrying about you or holding you up as you walk through the streets. I’m not saying that you can’t drink. By all means, if you are of age and want to drink, have at it! Just as I said before, know your limits.
—> The crybaby- “Could I get some cheese with that whine?” “Every party has a pooper and the pooper is you.” Sound familiar? Alright crybabies of the world, I love you but pleaseeeee remember that everyone is out to explore and have a good time. Especially in a place like medeteranian Europe, “going out” might mean that you are committing to being “out” until the sun comes up. Think about yourself and your mood… you need to decide early whether or not you can commit to the whole time your group plans to be out. If not, just let your group know ahead of time that you’ll probably be leaving early or catching a solo cab home. (make sure they can plan accordingly…)
—> The control freak- They become “king/queen of the party” and feel they need to tell everyone what to do, where to go, and how to do it. Though a take-charge person is always appreciated to break a tie or make a decision when no clear preference emerges, your friends don’t want to be bossed around if that’s not the case. This person usually also tends to unintentionally STRESS everyone OUT. If you are prone to this type of attitude, try to catch yourself before slipping into control mode in your group of friends. Managing your stress level and need to be in control will help alleviate any issues in having a cohesive group.
To cap off this little night life blog, I’ll leave you with an important phrase. It’s very fitting to this blog and captioned below:
vas a salir esta noche? you going out tonight?
