A Typical Spanish Family: Mine
Sitting on the couch during a reunion of my Spanish “family” (the relatives of the people I’m living with) yesterday afternoon, I was startled by the sounds of high-pitched shrieking and laughter.
I looked up wearily, expecting to see more poor behavior from the 10-year-old twins who have become my brothers here. But the twins were sitting quietly in the corner, playing a Gameboy.
It was my host mother who was causing the ruckus, giggling and squealing while working with her sister (my aunt) to tickle her brother-in-law (my uncle).
The rest of the family didn’t seem to notice. My grandmother, chatting with one of my cousins, looked up for a moment, a smile breaking across her face as she slightly shook her head before resuming her conversation.
Me encanta mi familia. I love my family.
Besides being ridiculous, the Quiroga Costas clan is also a “typical Spanish family,” my host mom told me during my first week here. So I figured we could knock out two birds with one stone – you get to learn about a typical Spanish family, and I get to talk about my sweet people I’m living with.
There are four of them (six of us, if you count my roommate Gabo and I) living in a third floor apartment in the center of Sevilla: My father, a hilarious lawyer named Juan Luis; my mother, a delightful woman and a great cook named Marta; and the twins, Fernando and Borja (although I mentioned their sometimes poor behavior before, they are actually intelligent, kind and very active kids).
But that’s not all, of course. Like many Spaniards, the extended family is very important in this house.
Marta’s parents, my grandparents, live in the adjacent apartment complex, also on the third floor, and often yell to us from their window (the grandparents, by the way, are also hosting two students on my study abroad program). And Marta’s two sisters, my aunts, both live in and around Sevilla (one of the aunts has three children and is also hosting two other students on my program) and visit often.
And then there are the family reunions, held on birthdays or anniversaries or whenever someone feels like having one. Joyous affairs, they always begin with delicious tapas and lively conversation and end with extremely strong alcoholic beverages and passionate debate.
We’re a family of jokesters. Sarcasm is basically the family language, and no topic is too crude to be discussed at the lunch table. At the same time, we’re a very traditional family. We’re devoutly Catholic (well, the family is), we’re politically conservative (by Spanish standards) and reunion meal seating is sometimes assigned according to Spanish tradition.
Honestly, I’m very grateful to have been placed with these people, who have welcomed us into the family and treated us like kings. From buying only food that Gabo and I like to pestering us to talk with them so we can practice our Spanish, the family has made our time in Sevilla what it has been.
And now, I feel a part of them.
