Study Abroad: Inside La Escuela don Quijote

Let's take a tour!

Located in the L'Eixample neighborhood on Carrer Mallorca, don Quijote is in a very unassuming building.  It's easy to pass by if you're in a hurry.  The school has multiple levels with an abundance of modern classrooms, lounge areas, and a computer lab.  The first thing you’ll notice about don Quijote…it's pristine!  

 

School Entrance on Carrer Mallorca

New students begin class on Monday and are required to take a written and oral placement exam on the first day.  After exams, you learn whether your classes are from 9am – 1pm or 3pm – 7pm. Placement levels range from A1 (Beginner) to C2 (Fluent).  I’ll never forget the oral exam administrator asking me (In Spanish) “Why are you here?  You speak so well.”  It was a valid question.  But, the reality was, I was losing my Spanish.  I rarely spoke Spanish back home in Atlanta.  An hour later, I was placed in level B2 (Advanced) classes.  Not bad for a girl who rarely used her Spanish and had been out of college for nine years.  I’d been praying to the grammar gods for morning classes and my prayers were answered.  As an added bonus, complimentary culture classes were offered from 1 – 2pm.  The teachers and administrators at don Quijote understood the importance of balancing class work with culture and the history of Barcelona.  I can honestly say that my teachers were the best in the world!  You know who you are!

Lounge Area

The school partners with an incredible tour company, Insolit Tours.  Each week, a schedule is posted of the daily tours.  Every tour begins at an easily accessible metro station and is led by an experienced guide for a nominal fee.  I was so pleased with the company that I went on four of it's tours:  La Sagrada Familia, Parc Güell, Palau Reial, and Tibidabo.    

Weekly Tour Schedule

During my time at don Quijote, I met the most diverse group of amazing individuals from Brazil, Germany, Hungary, Russia, Switzerland, and the United States.  Many of whom were traveling solo just like me.  Although we live in different corners of the world, many of us remain in contact today.   

 

Classmates

The school had four housing options:  apartment (single or shared), dormitory, home stay, and hotel.  I decided against a home stay because they come with house rules no matter your age.  A few of the apartments didn’t have a/c.   Dormitories....um....no thanks!  So, Hotel dQ it was!  The hotel is located on Gran Via de las Corts Catalanes, a main thoroughfare close to Passeig de Gracia, a major shopping district.  Students could also select a meal plan option of two or three meals a day at a variety of restaurants in the neighborhood.  The hotel came with all the creature comforts one would need EXCEPT for close proximity to the school.  The walk to school everyday was 18 blocks each way.  Sacrifice was the name of the game.

    

Hotel dQ is now Hotel Indigo

My Room

My Bath

View of the pool and terrace from my balcony

When I compare my study abroad experience to those of my friends who studied abroad before graduation, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world!  I'm confident that every trip to Barcelona hereafter will include a reunion visit to don Quijote!

Where are the Flamenco Dancers?

“I’ve been here for three days and have yet to see one Flamenco Dancer.  Are they on strike or something?”  This is what crosses my mind as I meander through the streets of Barcelona.  As a lover of live performances, I was really looking forward to seeing one up close and personal. I’d seen shows in the U.S. and even participated in a mini lesson once.  But surely, it would be different here.  I mean, it is SPAIN. 

If I’m honest with myself, that’s not the only thing that seems strange.  I can’t help but notice that no one looks like me.  I try to snap out of it by reminding myself that I knew this beforehand.  I’d almost convinced myself that I was prepared for it.  That doesn’t stop me from searching for sun kissed faces in the crowds.  But wait, that’s not totally true.  There was that one day I went to Museu Picasso and met a black gentleman from New York.  I remember him putting his best Spanish forward to ask me if he was in the right line for the museum.  I complimented him on his Spanish in English.  I’ll never forget the wave of relief that came across his face because he’d finally met someone who spoke English.  Boy, can I relate to that feeling!  We joked for awhile about how far away from home we were.  We parted once we entered the adolescent world of Picasso.  Oh and there was the black couple from California whom a friend and I met while eating lunch at Hard Rock Café.  They were in town for a few days after disembarking from the Dave Koz Jazz Cruise.  We chatted a bit before wishing each other farewell.  Most memorable was the daily greeting from the doorman at the Renaissance Hotel on Carrer de Pau Claris.  I walked by the hotel each morning on the way to class.  He was an older, black gentleman with the purest of white beards.  I marveled at his fluid Spanish, but his accent alone told me that Spain was not his origin.  Keeping in mind that the term “black” is relative, I had to remind myself that it doesn’t equal African-American.  There are millions of Brazilians, Colombians, Cubans, and Dominicans who often refer to themselves as black.   

Looking back, I remember just how much I stood out.  I got stares, but gradually learned that they were stares of admiration.  I would often get asked if I was Brasileña, but never American.  At school, people cared more about where I was from than the color of my skin.  As a matter of fact, if someone were to describe me, chances are they would say “Cheketa, la Americana” and not “Cheketa, the black woman.”  How I represented my country was more important than my pigmentation. 

After all these encounters, I still hadn’t found the Flamenco Dancers. On my last night in Spain, I returned home after having dinner with friends.  Preparing for a night of packing, I accidentally knocked my school folder to the floor.  As I went to pick the contents up, I found the Flamenco Dancers.  They were there in the form of flyers.  You see, for two weeks, I had blindly accepted all of these flyers from promoters on the streets.  I would always stuff them in my folder without looking at them.  Here I stood, holding flyers for Flamenco shows at Palau de la Música Catalana, Palacio del Flamenco, and El Tablao de Carmen.  How naïve was I to think that Flamenco Dancers would be performing in the streets of Barcelona for free?  Why would a  Flamenco Dancer in Barcelona be any different from any other hard working entertainer in any other city?  In Barcelona, Flamenco is performed in beautiful, ornate, costly venues!  I had to laugh at myself for being brainwashed by American TV advertisements.  The reality is that we all have prejudices.  We just have to be bold enough to seek the place that forces us to get rid of them.
      

Solo in Spain: The Story Behind the Journey

     Two Thousand Three.  It was the year I graduated from college and received my Bachelor of Arts Degree in Spanish.  With two failed attempts to study abroad in Mexico under my belt, I glided across the stage with my degree in one hand and a passport in the other.  As my family and friends cheered me on from the stands, I was certain that the world would be waiting for me to explore it.

     I'd worked for the same corporation nearly half of my life.  What started as a part-time job after high school led to spending money for college and ultimately the financing of this thing called adulthood.  I'd settled into the uncertainty of cube nation.  With each passing day, a restlessness gnawed at me that I now recognize as my intuition begging me not to forget my dreams while paying the bills.

Temple Expiatorio de Sagrat Cor at Tibidabo

     Luckily for me, I 'd opened my big mouth and told more than a few friends about my dream of studying abroad in Spain.  Little did I know, those friends would begin to hold me accountable.  Year after year, I would get questioned about the status of my trip abroad.  My responses went something like “I’m searching for the best schools” or “The flights are too expensive.”  One day, I stopped making excuses and decided to be honest with myself.  I was afraid.  There, I said it.  The person who had been on five solo trips (stateside of course), was now afraid to take it to the next level.  To be quite honest, my dream seemed too big to conquer.  So, I started with what I do best…research!  I researched everything…Spanish schools, housing, banking, vaccinations, wireless service, safety, transportation, hospitals, consulates, restaurants, attractions and airlines most likely to lose my luggage.  Nine years after graduating from college, I decided to blow the dust off my degree and combine my profession as a researcher with my passion for travel. The result was a two week long, intensive study abroad adventure in Barcelona, Spain. 

     As a look back at my collegiate years, I realize that those two attempts at study abroad weren’t failures at all.  They worked in my favor.  I was supposed to study abroad as a business professional, not as a student.  It was destined for me to study in Barcelona and not Guadalajara.  It was meant for me to see the very sites in person that I had been quizzed on in my “La Historia de España” class.  I was supposed to go alone and meet a ton of beautiful, smart, and fun individuals traveling solo just like me.  Had I gone with friends, it would have been a different experience altogether.  I doubt I would have enrolled in school or been as open to meeting new people.  To be quite frank, the entire journey would have been spent translating and naming the ingredients in paella.  Cheers to following my intuition and going solo.  The things I longed for prior to my journey (house, husband, and Louboutin's) were no longer top of mind.  Instead, I had a newfound love for architecture, gelato, and Picasso.  I wasn't bothered that my hair was in a constant state of frizz because I’d rather feel the balmy breeze as I walked along Platja Barceloneta than have perfect hair.  With each passing day, I grew to love the fact that no one looked like me.  My adoration for Spain had been solidified.   In just two weeks, everything had changed.  Singles On Lifelong Adventures was born out of that life changing experience.