april 23

The fact that I have only slightly more than a month left in Spain has been looming over my head like a giant cloud for the past week. I wouldn´t say it´s a terribly grey or menacing cloud, but not quite white and fluffy either. Maybe pale grey... with some red polka dots. I feel both dread and excitement at the thought of going home. As I explained in my previous post, living with my host family has been a radically different experience from the first few months of independant travel. At times I have felt that maybe I would be making better use of my time if I were traveling around and seeing more of the country, but more exciting isn´t nesecarily better. I have been welcomed into this family as one of their own, and I am experiencing real culture every day. Every breakfast and every back yard soccer game is a much more unique experience than a visit to a museum. Last weekend we went out on an excursion with some other families from the kids´ school; I feel quite certain that hiking on dusty trails lined with rosemary shrubs with a group of twenty little Spanish kids and their parents, a sleeping baby in my arms, is something I never would have done if I were still traveling on my own.
Also I have grown to love these kids so much in the past month. They are not angels, Tomás has a bad temper, Araceli cries for attention, and Manuel refuses to be set down (sometimes he won´t even let you sit down while holding him.) But they are also extremely sweet, and hilarious. Spanish is a very expressive language, people like to speak with a lot of inflection and wave their hands about madly. The Spanish kids pick up on this and their personalities often seem bigger than their ages. Tomás is especially clever and loves to joke around. We were sitting around the table and eating tortilla (not at all like Mexican tortilla, it´s actually an omelete) the other day, and Clara´s brother (who made the tortilla) told me that he would show me how to make it sometime if I wanted. Little Tomás chimed in "¡Por su marido!" and everyone laughed.
"For her husband."
(Thanks, Tomás, way to be progressive.)
I really do believe that this place is magical. Spain is sophisticated and modern just like the rest of Western Europe, but it also holds a certain roughness that often feels much more like Latin America. Gothic and Roman architecture exists along side citrus trees (so heavy with fruit that they need little crutches holding up the branches, very much like Dalí paintings) and succulent cactus. Mangy dogs bark at me while I ride my bike along the narrow and windy "highway" into town, and neatly dressed, conservative Catholic mothers swerve around me and drive straight through the red traffic lights. The culture is laid back to the extreme, but not tranquil, more like a "I would really rather drink some wine and take a nap than listen to your stupid problem so please go away," kind of attitude. It´s not rude, but it´s not polite, and no one is offended. There are so many rules about politeness in American culture, that I feel have resulted in passive agressiveness. Dad Tomás and I kind of have an on going joke about how ridiculously polite even the English language is. In Spanish you say "Give me the spoon," and "I don´t want it," while in English you say "Could you please hand me the spoon?" and "I don´t think I would like that, thank you." At first it seems a bit harsh, but then you realize that there is no reason to be offended by directness.
So while I am thoroughly enjoying my days of playing tickle monster and peek a boo, running to the supermarket with Clara, taking free Spanish classes at the university (just started!), and going to bed exhausted from all of the above, I am also feeling somewhat ready to return home. I am looking forward to Portland summer. I know that once I am home I will probably long for Spain again, but I think it is quite likely that someday I will return. I have already promised myself that someday I am going to live in Granada, if only for a little while.
For the present time I am just trying to soak in as much of the sun, the scent of orange blossoms, and Spanish language as possible.
In one of my first blogs I wrote that my only fear was that I would come home from this trip, which I have been building up for so long, having accomplished nor learned nothing. I am pleased to say that the need for this fear was swept away long ago. Ihave learned and grown in many ways that I was not at all expecting. I know that is a little cheesy, but it´s true. I have learned more than I could have imagined about this country, my own country, myself, and what is possible and achievable.
I can´t wait to travel to everywhere else in the world.
Saludos.

April 5

Writing from Madrid. The family is spending their Semana Santa (Easter, except here you get the whole week off work!) in Villarobledo, a small town where all of their family resides, in between Murcia and Madrid. So while we were already fairly close I thought I would come here for a couple days, it is the capital after all. Most of whom I have talked with have informed me that Madrid is not really that great, other than the very impressive museums (this seems to be especially the opinon of young people). So far I can mostly agree. I spent a few hours of my day in the Reina Sophia Museum, which was incredible and huge, and then the rest of my day wandering about and hanging out in a park. The museum is mostly fairly modern paintings and some sculpture. Upon entering an exhibit of surrealist art, I was frozen in place when I realized that the paintings before me were Dalís. A few years ago I made a list of one hundred things I wanted to do before I die, and seeing a Dalí was number forty something. The paintings that this museum contains are not particularly famous, but the just the presence of them sent shivers down my spine and made me feel feverish and dizzy. Number forty-something: check.
This evening as I was eating and reading by myself in a cafe, I got a phone call from Tomás, just checking in and making sure I was alright. What a radical transition it has been to be living with my new host family, from travelling across Spain totally on my own and wandering around strange towns with my back pack, looking for hostels or addresses of friends of friends. While I now have this whole new responsibilty of making sure nothing horrible happens to these three young Spanish children, I also have my own ¨mom and dad¨holding my hand. The other day when I went to the train station, and Tomás actually gave me a ride and then went in with me, bought my ticket, and led me to the exact platform I needed. After the last two months it feels like a band aid and a lolly pop. I have been trying to run and do yoga whenever I can, as I find that it helps me to maintain my energy with the kids if I get exercise. The only problem is that the parents don´t want me running alone, for fear of men bothering me. At the dinner party they were hosting we were dicussing this topic and in an attempt to shrug off their worries I tried to jokingly tell them that I would be okay because I have a knife that I could bring with me. Except that instead of ¨cuchillo¨, I told them that I have a ¨cucharillo¨ or a little spoon. So to all my family back home, don´t you be worrying about me! I can take care of myself! I´ve got my little spoon!
I have yet to convince them that I can handle running alone.
But overall I am still enjoying my job and currently my main focus is cramming my brain with Spanish. I spend a lot of time reading childrens´books and magazines, and everywhere I go I carry around a small notebook to record new words I hear. Hopefully I will be able to take a few classes in Murica, I think just one or two days a week of an upper intermediate level class would be extremely beneficial, at this point I mostly need specific grammar instruction.
I can´t believe I have already been with the Jimenez´s for two whole weeks. I am anticipating that these next two months are going to fly by. Hope everyone at home is well and had a nice Easter (if you celebrate Easter, if not, hope you had a nice Sunday.)
Un montón de abrazos.