Take a Ticket, Enjoy the Ride

Remember when you first learned how to do something?  Like when you learned to ride a bike or when you learned to drive?  Try to remember how many times you failed at it and how anxious it made you.  Driving feels like second nature now, but I remember learning to drive on a car with a manual stick shift .  A 1988 Chevy Nova to be exact.  It was Chevy's foray into partnering with Toyota, car mechanics used to call it a Chevy-ota. 

Similar to the old Chevy-Ota

Not the original, I know there is a hard copy (a what?) photo somewhere in a photo album, but this stock image works eh?

It wasn't a lot to look at, but it was a great car to learn to drive.  My father taught me to drive and while he is one of the most calm, patient people in the world, it took quite some time for him to teach me the mechanics and "art" of  the clutch and gas that is required to make a manual stick shift work.  We spent many afternoons in grocery store parking lots perfecting how to turn, when to put on the signal, how to brake and when to shift, but for each of those chances at driving, I could never seem to master the combination of letting out the clutch, releasing the brake and pressing the gas, let alone the next gear change from first to second.  "Listen to the engine" he would say, "You can feel when it needs to change gears".  All I could feel was my anxiety over not understanding this nuanced action and the timing as to when to perform this action.  "I think I can feel it" I would agree through a hesitant smile, but at that point I wasn't grasping how to know when to change gears, let alone the clutch release and gas pedal engagement that was needed to get the car moving.  Nevertheless, we continued these parking lot training sessions and I slowly improved through the experience of driving the car and beginning to understand how to release the clutch and when to shift the gears.  He turned to me one day, "Do you feel comfortable driving home?"  I was nervous and unsure, but also felt like I had made progress, so I told him yes, and we took off from the safety of the parking lot.  As the car was moving, I felt like I was actually DRIVING and could no doubt pass my driver's test that was coming up in a couple of months.  That is until I came to a four way stop.  Uh, ok, right, remember who has right of way, who got there first, who is turning, etc, etc.  Now, as I recalled the rules for a four way stop interaction, I wasn't putting enough focus on the clutch, shift, brake and gas.  As it became our turn, my dad continued to calmly coach me as to what the next steps were, it was easy, we were going straight so I just needed to slowly release the clutch and brake and press the gas, good to go, right?!  Not so fast, I also needed to remember to be in 1st gear, so I stalled the car, but it was still my turn and my dad's coaching was speeding up and his anxiety was amplifying my anxiety by 1000 percent.  Start the car, ensure it is in first gear, do the clutch and gas thing and OH MY GOD, we are shuttering and kind of chugging through the intersection.  I wasn't giving the car enough gas, my dad's calm demeanor was now a very firm shout, "Give it gas, give it some gas!"  It felt like every car at the intersection was shooting daggers at me with their eyes and I was literally the worst driver in the world.  I stomped the gas pedal and we zoomed through the rest of the intersection, my dad calming and telling me to slow it down, we were moving right along.  After that and many other practices, I became much more familiar with driving a manual.  In fact, I find it fun now, especially on a curvy road, you know, the thrill of driving.

That's the thing with learning something new, it is difficult, it sucks, you really don't want to do it, to expose yourself to the discomfort, anxiety, disapproving looks, and on and on.  Which is exactly what this move to Spain has felt like.  Grocery store runs are fraught with new methods for queuing, check out, and produce bagging and weighing.  We were feeling pretty good at one of the larger grocery stores in the big city of Vigo and had figured out where to line up waiting for a new cashier to open up.  However, we weren't listening to the announcements, it was in Espanol after all, so when the automated voice said, "Cajero Diecisiete" and when the woman behind us also exclaimed "Diecisiete!" we continued on with our conversation and didn't realize it was now our turn at cashier seventeen.  The cashier motioning to us helped us realize what was happening, but now the anxiety was increasing and we were on alert as to what else we may be not doing correctly.  We put our groceries on the belt and utilized the shared experience of checking out to perform this action properly, but then the cashier held up our avocados and said something in Spanish to us.  Fallene and I looked at each other and I was quickly trying to cycle through my limited Spanish vocabulary as to what she was telling us.  We got out our phones and were trying to pull up Google Translate.  The cashier was exasperated, but patient and got out from behind the register and went over to the produce scale, showing us how to weigh our "aguacate" and let us know that we should weigh the produce and add the sticker/barcode to each bag prior to coming to the cash register.  Now we know!  Each new grocery store we look for the produce scale and print the barcode if they have that system, but of course, each grocery store does it a little differently.  So we try to take our time and make sure we are looking out for signs and instructions as to how we should be gathering our produce. 

Grocery Stores in Spain

The grocery stores are different from place to place, but one common thing is the jamon Iberico. Every store has a ham leg.

One of the most challenging and annoying times that has happened was in the city of Baiona.  A quaint town on the coast, that is very touristy in the summer months and therefore has little to no parking.  We were in the town to apply for our Spanish bank account and decided to have lunch and explore the town.  We parked in a parking garage where we pulled a ticket when we entered the garage.  I, of course, thought I knew how ticketed parking works, took the ticket with me and even looked for a machine to pay for parking when it was time to leave.  I found a machine that scans a ticket for after hours entry to the garage, but nothing to pay for parking.  We thought, that must mean we pay for parking at the gate when we leave.  We pulled out of our spot and got in line to leave the garage, the single file line, with no way to exit once you were in the line.  We approached the ticket machine with the gate arm and proceeded to enter our ticket.  The machine simply spit the ticket back out and barked something in Spanish.  I tried the ticket again, this time upside down, thinking maybe it didn't read the barcode, no, the ticket was returned.  Flustered, I tried the ticket again, the gate was not going up and now I am getting anxious.  Fallene asked, "Is the machine working?"  Everything seemed to be working, but I wasn't getting a prompt to pay, maybe I just wasn't following the Spanish directions on the machine. Checking the rearview mirror, there was now a line of cars which was only getting bigger. Very anxious now, I began nervously poking the "telefono" button to have someone in the office please please help us. "Hola" followed by very fast Espanol that neither of us were able to understand. I picked up a couple of words specific to payment and not working, but otherwise, we were at a loss. The faces of the drivers in the line behind us were now visibly perturbed and we weren't any closer to getting out of the parking garage. After what seemed like 30 minutes (more like 2) a very angry woman from the office came out and directed the line of cars behind us to back up and moved us out of the line so we would park on the side. She gestured towards the payment machine, which we had completely missed on the floor below and sighed as she headed back to the office. Leaving Fallene in the car, I quickly strode to the payment machine and joined the queue. Low and behold and English couple was now struggling at the payment machine. They were paying with a "tarjeta" or card and the machine was telling them that there was no network connection, but they were not understanding what was happening. So the attendant from the parking office came over to help yet another English speaking person navigate the Spanish instructions. She pointed to the office and the English couple skulked away, embarrassed at the failure to understand. My turn arrived and I knew I could figure it out, she waited for me now wholly exasperated and watched as I tapped my card against the reader. Of course, it was not working, I tapped again and nothing happened, I assumed it was my mistake, but c'mon, I know how to use a card reader, right?! She quickly snatched the card from my hand, tapped and then inserted the card, only for the machine to comeback with a network connection error. I was doing it right, but now the machine had failed. So maybe it wasn't always my fault, maybe! She motioned for cash, (charades and gestures work well out here) and I pulled out a fifty Euro note. "No!" She exclaimed with the telltale finger wave, and pointed me to the office. The machine could only do a 20 Euro note or less, so now I needed change. Meanwhile, Fallene has been in this half parking spot watching other drivers almost hit our car as they quickly reversed into parking spots perpendicular to our car, all the while wondering, what happened to Kyle? Needless to say, we got the right change and paid with cash, so our ticket was correct, as soon as we got to the gate, the arm rose up and we were allowed to leave parking lot Baiona and get on our way. It was at least an hour later, but that is most things in Spain, if you think something will take 10 minutes, budget 30, if you think 30 minutes, budget an hour, etc, etc. While it was embarrassing and difficult, it reminded us of a couple of things, first and foremost, we have to learn Spanish. So we have an in person class scheduled for later this week. Having the time and in person commitment will really help to reinforce a lot of the immersion aspects of the language that we are seeing and hearing daily. Next it reminded us that, shit happens, we aren't going to always know how things work, even when we can somewhat read or understand the language and just like everywhere, if something isn't working, it isn't always because of something you did, maybe its just a network error. Slow down and take your time, make sure to understand the process before getting in the line or putting yourself in a position that is hard to extricate yourself from. We have been here just over a month now and we continue to run into challenges that come from the language or customs, especially living 15 minutes from the Portuguese border. Things like, "habla ingles" don't work in Portugal, we have to remember to change the language in Google translate from Spanish to Portuguese when we are over there, but we are making it work. People are friendly for the most part and are helpful when we at least make an effort. Little by little, "Poco a Poco" we are figuring it out and learning more everyday. It can be exhilarating, frustrating, anxious, intimidating, thrilling and so much more, but that is what we are loving about all of this, its new and completely outside of our comfort zone.

Baiona

20 Min or so from our house. Where the Columbus voyage returned to Spain and the announcement of the discovery of America was made. These tiles celebrate the 500 year anniversary.