The glamour of Spanish exists not only in the textbook but also in the spring of Salamanca, in the smile of homestay, in the lustre of Plaza Mayor, and in the passion of our teen age.
On the 28th of March, riding on the spring breeze, we followed the teachers of the Spanish Department and embarked on a 9-day Spanish language journey in Spain.
Thirteen hours of flight time did not seem so frustrating due to our excitement, also because we chose our seats in one row in advance, the flight was quite acceptable.
In the last two hours, the anticipation of Spain made me incredibly excited. I was hoping that the rest of the flight time could be fast-forwarded a little bit.
We looked out of the window at the dark sky, catching a glimpse of sunlight from Madrid breaking through the darkness – our first sunrise in Spain.
Thus, with this first ray of sunshine shining, we landed at Madrid airport with unknowing and curiosity.
The long flight did not alter our passion; on the bus, each of us looked through the window, unwilling to let go of any roadside details, even if it was just a strand of grass, a work of graffiti, a person, a roadside sign.
We didn’t stay in Madrid for very long, just visited a few well-known museums to get a glimpse of a brief history of Spain.
Even though we missed a lot in Madrid, we didn’t feel bad because we knew that there was more to be discovered and explored in a small city 200 kilometres away- Salamanca, the city where we would spend 7 days.
Moreover,having such great friends to learn Spanish with under the warm sun and clear blue skies, and enjoying nature and history was a wonderful experience that travelling alone could not give me.
As soon as we arrived at Salamanca, stately castles and towering churches came into view, as if they had been waiting for us for a long time; the flavour of an old European city spread out in front of us, fulfilling all our fantasies about European architecture.
Under the light of the setting sun, we met our host families, who were like our temporary parents in Spain. They not only accommodated us with food and shelter, but also provided invaluable advice over the next few days for us to taste the best food, and see the most distinctive architecture.
This was our first impression of Salamanca: ancient, stately, but with young blood, full of warmth and vigour.
Our relationship with the city did not begin with studying, but with the neighbouring village of Béjar. The sun was shining brilliantly that morning, the weather was clear, and the wake streams of aeroplanes were tracing beautiful patterns like paint across the clear blue canvas of the sky.
As we got out of the car, we could see the waxy leaves reflecting the sunlight brightly, a typical feature of the Mediterranean climate.
As far as the eye could reach, there was almost no trace of human civilisation; the liberated, free, and rugged sky enveloped us.
Having stayed in the city for a long time, I had seldom seen such a large piece of sky that was not blocked by any building, and there was a kind of primitive touching that pulled me in.
There, all we had in front of us were snow-capped mountains, almost blinding in the sunlight – in Madrid, in Salamanca, there are always snow-capped mountains to be found.
There were few tourists or inhabitants in this small village but simple convenience store owners, graceful snow-capped mountains, criss-crossed but elegant buildings, and sparsely populated but tidy streets, like a traditional Spanish painting.
It was casual and elegant, unfolding slowly like her history, slowly, gently, soaking us in, but we could never precisely capture her lustre.
From the third day onwards, our lives returned to learning; but unlike in school, we had a much more diverse approach to understanding the language, without pencil and paper, not even in the classroom.
The lessons were not simple repetitions; each day had a different lustre and became something we looked forward to every night.
In the first lesson, we learnt some practical theory, and after a short break, we would put it into practice right away. Tourist offices, food markets, museums and cathedrals would be our destinations.
The fascination of the language was completely unleashed at this moment. When we didn’t have a teacher to translate for us, when we didn’t have time to think, when we talked to the locals, everything about the language was like a mini oral exam.
We entered with a bit of nervousness, but the patience and smiles of the locals dispelled our fears, and we carried on a pleasant conversation with gestures and words until the barriers were completely removed, and we communicated as fluently as if we were using English.
Every grammatical point of this language from the other side of the continent grows freely on the other side of Chinese: gender, singular and plural, conjugation, subject ellipsis, object pronouns before verbs, more than twenty tenses…
We were not able to comprehend thoroughly the logic of these grammars until the combination of their cultures and ours exuded the splendour of a cultural fusion. The colour of their culture and our hearts.
From Shenzhen to Madrid to Salamanca, English and Chinese gradually failed to be heard in people’s mouths, and only the hard Spanish language could carry the burden of communication.
At that time, putting Chinese and English aside, we watched with relief as Spanish gradually melted into our hearts, intertwined with the rest of the language part of our brain, inseparable, and henceforth a precious and indispensable linguistic memory in our speech.
Between classes, there would be a greatly appreciated brunch. At this time, the teachers would lead us to a café in front of the school to enjoy a unique Spanish meal.
We had Tortilla, a Spanish speciality potato cake, churros with chocolate and Spanish style fritters, which were smaller and more delicate compared to Chinese ones, but also not so heavy soot flavour.
The cheesecake, Tarta de queso, was also a luxury we enjoyed from time to time: the cheesecake here was always half-melted, and it didn’t have a very appealing appearance, but it tasted great.
Sometimes, after morning tea and before it was time to meet up, we took a break in front of the school beside the café.
The view from the entrance was superb, the main church of Salamanca sat at the top of the ramp and as soon as you came out of the school you could see the old church.
Opposite the church was a shell house, “casa de conchas” in Spanish, with shell-shaped decorations adorning the facade.
Down the ramp, turn right and go a little further across the road and there was another church with extravagant bas-reliefs.
When you look at this church, good sunshine is needed, the light and shadow cast by the bas-reliefs on the outside wall of the church were dazzling, and it seemed that you could really catch a glimpse of Spain and the past prosperity of this seafaring empire.
This was our daily route to school. I remember when our resident led us along this path on the first day, she, as a local, exclaimed ‘¡Qué bonita!’ ‘How nice!’
Afternoon activities were also a big part of the programme. Despite the fact that seven days was too short to delve into the depths of Spanish culture, our language school teachers were always trying to show us different ways of doing things, even going so far as to allow us to try out a variety of customs and traditions.
The school introduced us guides not only to take us deep into the city centre and ride along the river, but also teach us the local flamenco dance and even go on a treasure hunt around the city.
Each day, we travelled through the city, undulating through its corners, and although it brought us fatigue, we always gained a different feeling for each day.
One of the most impressive was on the 1st of April, when we headed out for a ride along the banks of the Río Tormes.
As we slowly pedalled out of the city centre, the terrain began to flatten out, the roads began to widen, the buildings began to look more modern, and we slowly made our way onto the bike lane.
These lanes didn’t look much younger than the buildings in the city centre and were riddled with cracks; however, the ground was flat and clean and even had zebra crossings, speed signs and traffic lights like motorways, as if bikes had the same status as cars here and the city would give them maximum assistance.
It wasn’t long before we rode over a suspension bridge and reached a small island. Here there were even fewer people, and where we descended the bridge, we could see a large green area where several statues stood, mostly bird-related.
I saw a dandelion on the grass, and stopped the bike to walk over to it and blow up its fluffy hairs, all the unhappiness of the day drifting away with the fluffy hairs dancing in the wind.
An old man was walking his dog on the bank of the river, and the water was swirling around in the bend, splashing waves, as if it were snowflakes on the ground that hadn’t finished melting in the early morning of a winter’s day.
Food was another comfort in travelling, stimulating our long-waiting taste buds with just the right seasoning, and warming the exhausted soul with a freshly baked temperature.
Before coming here, the Spanish teacher of SCIE had already introduced us to a large number of Spanish foods; together with the recommendations of our seniors and local teachers, we had enough confidence to try to walk into a restaurant, order, eat, and pay the bill, just like a local.
It is worth recording the first time we went out ‘foraging’ as a group. At the time, our Spanish was not as polished as it had been in the classroom, and ordering was a jerky affair.
Luckily, we had a state-of-the-art translator, and the workers were extremely patient, so we were able to use our hands and mouths to complete this memorable and historic task.
The first course was the Croquette, a bite of which was sweet but not too sweet as the cheese and ham exploded and fused in your mouth, then melted immediately, inspiring every taste bud on your tongue.
Then they slipped and sank down the oesophagus, leaving only deep flavours to remain in the mouth and remember. We ordered two plates each of beef and lamb, and the juicy lamb chops and steaks were snapped up by the students soon after they were served, a little salty but not at all masking their delicious flavours.
However, I think the best part of the trip was the process of exploring and enjoying the city as we went. Early in the morning on the third day of our arrival, my roommate and I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night.
A quick glance at the time showed that it was 7:30 a.m. It didn’t seem too late, but given that we didn’t have classes until 10 a.m., it did seem a little too much time.
After tossing and turning and being unable to sleep, we sat up in unison and looked out the window. The stars were still hanging in the sky, and everything was still so quiet.
My roommate and I grabbed our tripods and cameras, put on our coats, and hiked a few hundred metres to the Roman Bridge, known as a popular place to capture the beauty of dawn on the internet.
Time passed, the sun tended to the sky, pedestrians and cars took to the streets, and the city slowly woke up. The sun shone on the churches, on the streets and on our faces; under the sun, we radiated our youthful passion.
Occasionally, when there was nothing else to do in the evening, we would meet some of our classmates and hang out together.
We called this “wondering on the streets”, which was not only a humorous variation of “wandering”, but also reflected our determination to explore this city from head to toe.
The main square of the city, also known as La Plaza Mayor, was always our destination. Every Spanish-style town has a main square, which is not only the city centre, but also the culture of Spanish town building, which has long been integrated into every Spanish city.
I remember one of my classmates once sent a joke in their WeChat moment, ‘Is Plaza Mayor the end of the world? Wherever we go we end up here, and we somehow come here every single day.’
We were laughing when we saw it, but it turned out that we walked to Plaza Mayor in no time, and we even met our seniors there. This square may not be the end of the world, but it’s definitely the heart of Salamanca.
It has a lively nightlife, surprisingly unlike Europe, it’s not even this lively at this hour in China. When we arrived, the square was in full bloom, and even though it was late in the day, it was bustling with restaurants, taverns, outdoor seating, university students, and surrounded by old buildings.
Happy times are always short, seven days flew quickly by, and we reached the last day of our journey.
The morning of this day was just like any other day, we were still listening to the lectures and the teachers were still trying to teach us, no one mentioned the elephant in the room, we tried to forget that it was the last day and keep going. At the end of the course, the teacher of the Academy said ‘¡Adiós!’, which means “Goodbye”.
In Spanish, there are two ways to say goodbye, ‘see you’ and ‘goodbye’ – the teacher even talked about the difference in class. Today, we parted with a heavy ‘goodbye’, and we probably wouldn’t see each other again for a sensible time.
Early the next morning, while the city was still asleep, we set out on the road back. It was half past three in Salamanca, and the streets were lit only by yellow streetlights, which did nothing to dispel the darkness.
We gingerly boarded the bus and drove out of the city. No one knew we had left the city; we were just like passers-by swimming in the river of history, waving our hands and leaving without taking away a single cloud from this place.
The bus travelled downhill, and along the streets were shops that were not yet open.
Maybe in four or five hours, when the first rays of the morning sun shines on the old town of Salamanca, it will be all the same again, but I always have a feeling that I will not be able to wait for them to open their doors again, and I would not be able to feel the peace and bustle of the old town of Salamanca again.
I think I’m going to miss everything about Salamanca, the sunlight at 7 p.m. focusing on the history and culture of the city; the deliciously sweet ice-cream, even in the cold of spring; the endless blue skies; the city hall and la Plaza Mayor of Salamanca when the lights come on in the evening; the chorizo sausage, jamón ham, beef and lamb; I miss the cheesecake and hot chocolate; I miss the teachers who taught me and the guides who led me here ……
I still remember our potluck dinner on the night of the 30th of March.
I still remember the night we fancied catching ghosts on the streets of Salamanca because we spotted reflections in our cameras.
I still remember the night I played the harmonica in front of my classmates, and the long notes that spoke of the rise and fall of history.
I still remember cycling along the banks of the Río Tormes.
I still remember the view of the city from the main church, with its ancient colours in full view.
I still remember the train station in Salamanca during the blues.
I still remember the afternoons we spent sipping hot chocolate and listening to our tutors talk about their experiences.
…… It was all so short and beautiful.
- Article / Albert Liu
- Pictures / Albert Liu
