My first two weeks of living and studying abroad can be summed up in one pesky Spanish verb: conocer. Depending on tense and context, it can mean anything from “to meet” to “to get to know” to “to be familiar with.” The 30 students in my program in Seville, Spain, were immediately faced with all of the above. We’ve had to get to know one another, familiarize ourselves with a city that lacks any sort of efficient public transportation system and — maybe most importantly — establish a relationship with our hosts, who range from young singles living alone to “Señoras” who still cook for their 30-something sons. It would be hard enough in English.

As is probably the experience of other Georgetown students who study abroad through language-immersion programs, introducing yourself to Your Life for the next six months (or year) is no easy task when you’re using your second language. Immediately you’re faced with the challenge of presenting the full you and convincing a city of strangers that, believe it or not, there exists a place where people get my jokes and like my taste in music, where I can pick up on subtleties, where I understand and am understood.

I don’t think a language class whether introductory or SFS-only-hyper-intensive advanced can ever prepare a student for the linguistic and cultural roadblocks of making himself at home overseas. In a Spanish course, you may be asked to present yourself by exercising a command over the subjunctive (e.g., I wish I were coming home for March Madness) or by coherently articulating an opinion on a foreign news item. Forging real connections with the people you live and study with, however, requires more than grammatical formulas. To work out any cross-cultural kinks with words, we have to be creative.

When Amelia Wachtel (COL ’09) moved into her homestay here, one of the first questions her Señora asked her was exactly what a vegetarian diet consists of. In an attempt to avoid any possible confusion, she replied, “No como nada que tiene ojos” (I don’t eat anything that has eyes). But something didn’t translate, and Amelia was unpleasantly surprised at lunch later that afternoon when she was served garbanzo beans with chicken (granted, she wasn’t actually served any eyes). She had to come up with a better definition.

My host, Carmen, should be easy for me to relate to, considering she’s in her 20s, likes Shakira and tells me where to find the good discotecas. Still, there are certain things that I’ve tried to share with her “Arrested Development,” fruit-in-the-bottom yogurt, what I love about the darkroom that I lack the vocabulary to explain. So sometimes I just give up.

Suddenly some of the everyday things that individualize us at home, like vegetarianism, wearing sneakers out at night (regrettably, I packed four pairs) or going for a daily jog, are not only uncommon but can also set us apart in a negative way, especially if we can’t manage to justify them in Spanish. They’re all considered equally weird, and there’s probably no way to convince some sevillanos otherwise.

At the same time, no matter how much effort someone exerts differentiating himself from Joe Hoya, abroad we all fall under that same stigmatized category: American student. So we’re all the more motivated to express ourselves, if only to distance ourselves from that obnoxious stereotype that countless American college sophomores and juniors have left as their legacy.

Of course, Amelia’s host has since adapted her cuisine to exclude things with eyes, and Carmen and I have found plenty of things to bond over, including her dog Jana, text messaging and a TV show we both used to watch as kids (“Maya the Bee”). And I have learned plenty of new vocabulary in the process. My advice for anyone frustrated by those things that don’t seem to translate literally or culturally is to keep looking for ways around the obstacles but to know when to admit defeat. It’s normal to want to relate to our surroundings, but the point of being abroad is also to embrace some of those distinctions that drive us crazy.

Beth Shook is a junior in the College. She can be reached at shook@thehoya.com. Found in Translation appears every other Friday in The Guide.