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.