The first few days

So, it is Sunday 27th January which means I have successfully survived my first weekend in Alicante. Lewis, Pete and I have only been here for 5 days, however it has been a hectic few days of parties, new face and several language barriers.

Due to the craziness of the first week I have divided this instalment into Day 1 and then the rest of the week. I will try to write a weekly blog from now on.

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Day 1 - Cultural Experiences

Oscar Mike

My journey to Alicante started at 5:45am on 23rd of January, climbing out of bed before the heating was on into a freezing cold room. A look out of from behind the blinds reveals that it has been snowing again and a slight bit of worry about my flight being cancelled adds to the already present jitters about moving to Spain for three and half months. Luckily, after skipping breakfast because my appetite was letting me down (very unusual, I know) and being driven to the airport by my dad (who offered voluntarily to play taxi driver), I found out that Glasgow was clear of snow and that the flight would depart as planned.

After checking my slightly overweight bag in successfully, much to my relief, and introducing my dad to the delights of Starbuck’s frappuccinos, it was off through security to wait for the flight. Upon boarding the flight I was greeted by the cabin crew in the manner I have become accustomed to in the past few months: “You’re George’s pal. ”

George Barron has been a friend of mine for over three years and we have shared some amazing mutual experiences through our band, The Senses. George however was promoted from friend to saviour last summer, by providing me with discounted Easy Jet flights which allowed me to fly home from Bedford, where I was spending the summer, fairly regularly and cheaply. Flying to Alicante had proven to be no different with George securing us an excellent deal on our tickets.

Instant recognition by the cabin crew was flattering, but they had another little surprise in store for us. When the refreshments trolley came along the cabin I was greeted, “You’re George’s pal? ” and then ordered an ice tea. The girl then enquired if I wouldn’t prefer a beer which I declined (very unusual, I know) as it was only 10am. She then hastened to inform me that I may as well go all out seeing as George was paying. George had neglected to inform me that he had put a tab on for us which we took full advantage of. Cheers George!

Alicante

The flight passed fairly quickly, with an ice tea and a few beers. After a bumpy landing we got our bags with no dramas and we were into a taxi an Alicante bound. The only problem was that we arrived in Alicante about the 2pm local time and weren’t meeting our landlord until 5pm so we had a bit of time to kill but also had all our lives for the next 3 months trailing behind us in our cases. By pure chance we stumbled across Taj Mahal, an small Indian restaurant somewhere in Alicante and probably the only establishment that was not closed for the 2-5 siesta. We decided that we may as well start experiencing new cultures so we went in for a curry...

So after a few Cobras and a lamb jalfrezi, it was off to the flat. The University of Alicante had taken care of arranging our accommodation for us which had saved us a lot of hassle until it came to getting any details or any form of communication from our landlord. At 5pm, we were standing outside of the address which the University had provided us with and we had no clue how much the rent was going to be, whether there were any utilities or if we were going to have any other flatmates. Christ we might even be sharing rooms!

5:10pm. No sign of the landlord.

5:20pm. Still no sign of the landlord.

5:30pm. That bugger has forgotten about us.

5:31pm. “Lewis, you have his number, give him a ring.

Now I am not sure what I found the funniest. Lewis’ face as he tried to decipher what the native speaking Spanish landlord was saying, in Spanish I may add. Or Lewis’ attempt to try and tell him where we were VE-REEE SLOOOW-LEE AND LOUD-LEE.

As it transpired, we were at the wrong address. Not just the wrong number but the wrong side of the city. This was not too bad because after spending about 30/40 minutes on Calle Tato I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the state of it nor the smell.

Back into a taxi it was and off to the actual address, Calle Portugal, where we arrived at about 6 to be greeted by Juan the landlord who, as Lewis had rightly informed us, spoke hee-haw English. Calle Portugal was definitely a marked improvement on Calle Tato, much more central and about 200 metres from the sea front. I could see myself settling in here. Now there only remained the issue that we didn’t know what the flat was going to look like.

I accompanied the cases in the lift as Juan, Pete and Lewis made their way to flat 1F. The ascent in the lift was only one floor but the suspense about seeing the flat was killing me and made it seem like it took forever. This was made even worse by the fact that the lift was actually one of the slowest and dodgiest things I have ever been in. The thing sounded like it was dying. Not in a mechanical sense either. Like the thing was actually alive and on its way out. Those noises should not be made by an inanimate object. I take the stairs now.

So the lift reached the first floor and the doors opened, just, and I had got the cases and myself out as quickly as I could before the thing finally gave up and dropped me down the shaft. Back on terra firma (sort of), we made our way to the flat. The worry was for nothing. The flat turned out to be rather decent, especially for what we were going to be paying and even more to my relief; the dodgy smell was only what Kyo, our Japanese flatmate, was cooking.

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Settling in

Now that the initial nerves of travelling and uncertainty about the flat had subsided we started to settle in. Kyosuke, Kyo for short, made us feel extremely welcome from the offset although we were a bit weary when he greeted us in Spanish. Luckily there was no language barrier as he can speak better English than I do most of the time. He offered to teach us Spanish in return for us helping to improve his English, which with my accent I don’t think will happen very quickly.

Kyo is studying Spanish at the University of Alicante and has been since September 2012 so he has had the opportunity to get to know the city which was a great help to us as he offered us a guided tour of the neighbourhood which we accepted.

We didn’t have to go far from the flat before it became apparent that we were not only in a different country, but surrounded by a different culture. It was around the back of 7 and dark but still very mild for the end of January, and the locals were sitting outside the various cafes smoking, talking and eating. We would find out in the days following that this is the norm. People can be seen socialising until 11/12 every night. It will definitely take a bit of getting used to this shift of routine.

Due to the weight restrictions imposed by the airline companies, I had not packed any toiletries and the kitchen cupboards in the flat were empty so Kyo directed us to the local supermarket. I thought visiting the supermarket would not be much of an out of the ordinary experience however I was amazed by how different everything was. The general layout was very similar however there were none of the familiar brands and the variety of meat, fish, fruit and veg on offer was amazing. I have made it my goal to cook Spanish style whilst here to make the most of what is on offer, but the first night I stuck to pizza.

Alicante after Dark

After discovering the wifi in the flat was crap and we couldn’t get the telly to work we headed for a wander a bit further afield without the aid of our Japanese tour guide. The town was eerily quiet as we made our way through the narrow streets with wind howling in between the buildings. We eventually found our way onto Avenida Alfonso el Sabio, one of the main drags through Alicante and the focal point of which was at the north end, Castillo de Santa Barbara. The castle is perched 550ft above the city on top of a flood-lit hill making it as much a spectacular view at night as it is in the day.

As nice as the view was, we were still lost and hadn’t spotted a bar yet, so with some directions from some American students we made our way to El Barrio, the place to be in Alicante. Feeling pretty tired by now, we stumbled into the first bar we found. It just so happened to be an American bar named “Route 66”. What can I say? We promise we will get involved in a bit of Spanish culture at some point.

I think I managed "una cerveza" before it was off home and into bed. Knackered as I was, I fell asleep satisfied that I could tell there would be plenty of new experiences in the next three and a half months.

Week 1- Nights out and door bells

I’m a plumber and I didn’t know it

As with any new place, when you move in, there are always little things that niggle at you. For instance, the oven door might not close properly or some of the plugs don’t work. Sometimes it takes a little while to even notice them. The niggle I had with this flat didn’t take me too long to notice. This particular little mishap with the flat revealed itself to me in the form of a wee jobby waiting in the pan to greet me in the morning with a wee smile on its face. What was more disturbing than finding this owner-less tollie was the fact that I couldn’t flush the wee bugger away. It didn’t work. I merely created more floaters.

It wasn’t panic that set in, but my nostrils did tell me that I didn’t want to kick about too long. I thought there had to be something I could do. It was a toilet. Not a fecking Saturn V. A quick look in the cistern showed that it was empty. A wee rummage about (bearing in mind the cistern doesn’t contain any jobby bits) and something gave way any the water flowed. Sorted.

Orange trees and wine

Before you get too jealous about me spending three months in the sun, the reason I am here is to carry out a research project and write my Masters thesis. So at some point I supposed I would have to visit the university campus. Montrose Street and Livingston Tower eat your heart out. You have nothing on l’Universitat d’Alicante.

A thirty minute bus ride takes you to the campus from the city centre and upon arrival you are greeted by a tiled avenue side lined by palm trees. The heat from the sun and the lightest of breezes which makes it bearable is simply amazing for a home grown Scot to feel in January.

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Walking up the avenue you pass a cactus plantation and then you’re out into a massive square of benches dotted in amongst orange trees. Not in colour but with tennis ball sized oranges growing on them. I could feel myself thinking that I could easily work here for a lot longer than three months.

Meandering around the campus, which is so spaced out it resembles a small town, in and around cafes and palm trees we finally found the Chemical Engineering building. It was time to meet my supervisor who had been nothing but a faceless name sending me emails for several months.

Dr Juan Garcia turned out not to be such a scary head of department. At least he could speak English because my Spanish had not got me too far up until that point. He gave me a quick brief to the details of my project. I would be responsible for investigating the parameters, such as temperature, pH, etc that alter the taste and alcohol content in mead, a honey based wine. What’s more, he told me that certain chemicals produced in the fermentation of mead were the same as in the whisky making process. I would have to do my research into whisky as well. I could do that.

Noches en la ciudad

Just like any time you are thrown into new social situations, the best friends you make are on the nights out. ERASMUS is no exception. Two days after arriving we were off to a party where you were expected to bring food which is traditional in your home country. It of course had to be haggis, neeps and tatties which we made, coincidentally on the birthday of our most celebrated national poet, Rabbie Burns. Luckily we were not the only ones who put in the effort and when everybody arrived we had one of the most diverse buffets in Alicante.

After some great food, some of which I had never even heard of and still can’t pronounce, and many beers we were on our way to sample the light life of the Costa Blanca. We ended up in a tiny club named Carpe Diem, but hey, it’s not where you go, it’s the people you go with. We had a great time and lots of laughs at the language barriers between the members of our diverse group.

After a whole weekend out on the town it is needless to say we have met some amazing people from all over the globe who I am sure will become lifelong friends as we all experience Alicante, ERASMUS style.

Ding dong, Lights on

Arriving home after the night out a wee bit wobbly, we ignored the death trap of a lift, and made our way up the stairs in the dark. Now the genius of Spanish accommodation design does itself proud. The light switches in the hall are the exact same size and shape, and in the same location as the door bells.

Even through her door, our neighbours door, her bell still sounded pretty damn loud in the dark. Trying to explain to an old woman who doesn’t speak English that you are sorry and you didn’t mean to ring her door bell is quite hard when the only words you know are “Dos cerveza por favor”.

I haven’t seen her since but I have memorised where the light switch is for future reference.

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