Siestas and Fiestas: A Day of Spanish Life


The nighttime festivities in Spain don't begin until around 1 a.m. so make sure to take your "siesta." Janis Yue | Daily Trojan

The nighttime festivities in Spain don’t begin until around 1 a.m. so make sure to take your “siesta.” Janis Yue | Daily Trojan

9:12 a.m.: I wake up for my 10 a.m. “Spanish Composition” class after hitting the snooze button a couple times. For breakfast, I eat a small piece of toast, yogurt and sip a little cup of coffee. Spaniards like their coffee super concentrated, which is absolutely fine by me.

10:00 a.m.: After a five minute walk to the University of Deusto from my apartment (passing by an emerald-colored river and the undulating architecture of the world-famous Guggenheim), where I begin class. My professor, who insists we call her Ana instead of “profesora” since she is neither “vieja” (old) nor “antipático” (unfriendly), goes over differences in punctuation between Spanish and English. She keeps the class engaged with her animated gestures and uninhibited humor.

1:00 p.m.: After my conversation and grammar classes, I head home, letting myself get distracted by little Spanish pastry shops and clothing stores for a bit. I meet a kindhearted Venezuelan storekeeper who tells me to come back when there aren’t any people in the store so that he can help me practice my Spanish. The store shuts down for siesta around 2 p.m., and I go home and take a short nap as well.

2:30 p.m.: My host mom and I have lunch, which is honestly one of the most enjoyable parts of my day. Every lunch consists of three courses. Today, I have a garlicky mix of squash and tomato for my first plate. For the next, I have a beautiful piece of white fish dressed in a light herby sauce. For dessert, I have a mini-flan. We talk about her work, and I tell her about some of the things I do at USC and with my family back home — it’s great chance to keep practicing my Spanish.

3:30 p.m.: My friends from the program and I decide to take advantage of the sun and soak up some rays at the beach. We take the metro for about 20 minutes to Playa de Sopelana, a gorgeous crystal blue beach, where we tan among many topless women (a cultural norm here).

7:30 p.m.: We hop on the metro to go back home and each go our separate ways back to our apartments. My 7-year-old host sister greets me with a huge smile and “Hola!” followed by “Lucha!” She’s referring to the sparring game in Wii Sports, which we play often (probably because she somehow beats me every single time). This time is no different.

9:00 p.m.: I do a couple grammar exercises for homework. At 9:45, my host family and I have dinner, another delicious meal. There is lively conversation, and a Spanish fútbol (soccer) game plays on the TV in the background, because soccer is a religion here. My host parents ask me many, many times if I want more food.

10:30 p.m.: My American friends and I meet up with some local Spaniards in the streets of Bilbao to drink some kalimotxo (a popular mix of red wine and Coca-Cola) before we head to the discoteca around midnight or 1:00 a.m. We dance the night away.

At USC, I often found myself getting trapped in a “culture of stress,” where I never felt like I was doing enough unless I was getting less than six hours of sleep a night or passing up on spending time with family and friends. Here in Spain, I’ve reoriented my focus. I’ve already gained a greater appreciation for the little moments of daily life, as well as meaningful, honest interactions with other humans.

As many of my friends have told me, in Europe, people work to live, rather than living to work.

And I’ve never felt more alive.