Why Au Pairing was nothing I expected, yet everything I needed

I spent this past year living and working in Spain as an English Language and Culture Assistant.  About half of the way through what was supposed to be only a 10-month adventure, I decided I was going to extend my stay in Spain for at least one more year.  Then, I decided that it was a good idea to spend the majority of my summer in Spain as well to try and save some money.  I began looking into potential summer jobs and came across Au Pairing. 

Previously, I had made a vow to myself that I would never be a nanny.  I couldn’t do it; I don’t have the patience to babysit all day long for days on end, I don’t like cleaning up after someone else’s kids or any of the various tasks I thought being a nanny entailed.  However, I told myself that maybe with a European spin on it, Au Pairing wouldn’t have to be nannying.  Maybe, though, I was just desperate to land a job so I could spend the summer of my dreams in Spain.

Whatever the case, I signed up to be an Au Pair in Galicia, Spain and was soon placed with a family with three children ages: 12, 10 and 6.  We had only two Skype interviews in the spring before I moved into their family home in a small town outside of Coruña, Galicia, at the end of June.  I chose Galicia instead of Madrid for a few reasons, the most important of which was that my boyfriend would be there and we could spend our free time together.

The first few days were hard.  Having just come from living 10 months with complete and total independence to moving in with a family who A) I didn’t know, and B) barely spoke my language, was a major transition, and I am terrible at transitions.  Emotional, stressed, just truly ugly with the whole idea of change.  What had I gotten myself into?!  That first week I sat down with the parents and we discussed what the expectations for the summer would be for all of us. 

Essentially, they expected me to spend the mornings with the children, provide a one-hour English “class” with each of them individually each day, and then of course just be a respectful houseguest.  My expectations were nothing, I actually had no idea what to expect.  They knew that my boyfriend was in town and explained that my weekends would be totally free to spend with him, and I could have my afternoons free as well if I desired.  This, however, I was totally not expecting!  I was excited to be gaining back some of the independence I thought was gone for the summer, but assured them that I would only want or take one afternoon a week off.  After all, another reason I had for working as an Au Pair was to gain some cultural and language experience and “being part of the family” was just the way to do it.

I could never have imagined how much I truly would become part of their family.  When at first I was a little shy and definitely too timid to try to speak to them in Spanish, I now find myself using Spanish without even thinking.  The first few days when I would simply turn on the children’s lights and tap them to wake them up in the morning, I now jump into their beds and tickle them until they can’t stand it.  I went from freezing at the sound of “but my mom let’s me do it” to confidently enforcing a 3-second rule to get the children to do what I need them to do.  We’ve laughed together, we’ve cried together, we’re family.

I think the thing that really brought us close together was spending a week on vacation, camping.  They were so welcoming to even invite my boyfriend to tag along for the first weekend, and they treated him just like family too.  It meant so much to me to watch him interact with these people who have become my family, and for him to also recognize what a wonderful family they are.

After he left on Sunday, we spent the days on the beach, at the pool, playing football and paddle, and the nights in a giant tent all-together.  Then, on Wednesday I received some stressful news: an important document I had sent by mail to Madrid (over a month ago) had been returned to our house in Coruña. 

Now, I am no stranger to being screwed over by Spanish bureaucracy, but I still began to feel extremely anxious and upset over this news, especially because I wouldn’t be able to take any action until we arrived home on Saturday.  However, with the help of my “parents” I was able to make some calls, arrange a few things and get the ball rolling to fix the situation.  Of course this wasn’t the end of the paperwork complications (as in Spain in never is), and it wasn’t the end of their help and support either.  Without them, and another dear friend in Madrid, I wouldn’t have been able to hold it together to finally sort out the problem yesterday.

Now here we are with just two weeks left together before I head home to the States and tears have already been shed.  We’ve been spending more time laughing together, more time around the dinner table at night laughing and playing games, and finishing up our bedtime story of the summer, Stuart Little.  Our final project of the summer will be to create a scrapbook together!

While I’m no doubt going to be sad to leave, and I’m pretty sure they’re going to be sad to see me go, I’m confident that we will see each other again soon.  They will make a trip to Madrid in the fall, and any time I come up to Coruña to visit my boyfriend’s family I will give them a call.  There’s even talk of next summer… but we’ll see about that ;)

Some might think 23-years-old is too old to be an Au Pair, and sometimes I had this thought too; but now I think this was the perfect time to have such a life-changing experience.  I understand more of what I value in family, I am 100% more confident in my Spanish level, and surprisingly I have gained new independence in myself that I will take with me into my second year as an ex-pat.  I may still be far indebted to my student loans, no closer to professional “career” and still unsure of exactly what I want to do with my life, but right now I feel okay with all that, I feel content and excited about what’s to come.

That one time I went to the doctor in Spain.

I should start off this story with saying that while yes, Ebola has made its way to Spain, and yes this discovery hit the news the same day I went to the doctor in Spain, no I am not infected with Ebola. 

That being said, I begin. For about the last week or so the late nights and vacation-like schedule have been taking their toll on my immune system to the point where on Monday my throat was so sore and swollen I couldn't even turn my head without pain and discomfort. After suffering through the school day I decided it was high time I try out the spanish healthcare system.  Our CIEE orientation prepared me for how and where to make an appointment, so I called "Hospiquality" and headed to my appointment later that evening.

The hospital had a wonderful and very kind international team who helped me fill out paperwork, and lead me to the waiting room where I was assured I would be taken care of promptly.  CIEE participants are taken care of very well at this facility, I had been informed at orientation.

However, as I sat in the waiting room for the first half hour I began to have déjà vu to every single time I go to the doctor at home, and even though I've made an appointment well in advance, I always seem to wait at least an hour once I get there. I tried to be patient as patient after patient entered the waiting room after me, and saw the doctor before me but after another young american girl was in and out in 10 minutes I lost it. I politely told the doctor that I had been waiting for over an hour, and if he knew why I hadn't been seen yet.  Then things got weird.

He told me I wasn't on his list, then proceeded to call the international correspondent upstairs where he actually yelled at her for 5 minutes about a mistake she had made with registering me for my appointment. I was then ushered back downstairs where the "nurse" told me I would have to be helped in the emergency room because at this point the doctors offices were about to close. And cue tears.

I wasn't sad as much as I was just frustrated and in a lot of pain. Plus, I know how the ER works in the United States and sore throat definitely comes in at the bottom of the totem pole of emergency conditions. Crying was probably the best thing I could have done though, because I totally freaked the nurse out and she got me into the ER doctor right away. I explained my symptoms and he prescribed me some antibiotics and a cortisone shot, for the swelling in my throat.  At first I thought this sounded a little extreme and I was leery, but I would have tried witchcraft at that point so I went with it, assuming it would be a small stick in the shoulder no harm no foul. 

So imagine my confusion when the male ER nurse pulls the privacy curtain and instructs me to put my hands on the bed, slide my pants down, and bend over. Surely I was being punked, right?  Sure enough he took that SOB and stuck it right in my left buttock. I have 2 theories as to why they gave me this shot of cortisone: the first, to put me in more pain than I was already in to serve as some sort of sick distraction, the second to actually alleviate the swelling. Either way I was confused and slightly mortified, but I was treated and I could finally pay my bill and head to the pharmacy on my way home. They made me a follow up appointment for tonight with an ear nose and throat specialist, so even though I'm feeling a million times better hopefully I'll be good to go in a few more days.  And so help me if they tell me to drop my drawers again I'm going to tell them they can stick it up theirs cause that sucker hurt!!