New Friends

On Tuesday, I took in a new roommate. He is black and pretty quiet most of the time. For the next month while the Bowmans are in Chicago, Tyler (Liz's 12-year-old son) had asked me to take care of his fish, who has since set up camp on one of the shelves in my room. I've never had a roommate who was more respectful of my space and sleeping schedule; I think we'll be fast friends.

Poolside a few days ago, I had the privilege of making some new human friends too. Sharing a bench with two other ladies (I now know them as Rosa and Monse) to dry off in the sun, Rosa decided to strike up a conversation with me. As are most Spaniards who know even three words of English, she was anxious to practice with me, beginning by recounting all that she already knew about me via the female community grapevine. Within five minutes, I had met all three of her children and two other friends of hers also at the pool, was informed of all their house numbers and was even invited to join their running group --(can't you just imagine several middle-aged Spanish women becoming my running buddies in Madrid? haha) One thing I should point out about Spanish culture is that the Spaniards don't open up and welcome in just anyone. Their friendships are based on longevity and/or connections to other loved ones. In other words, these women only spoke to me since I am friends with Liz Bowman and I live with Solete. Otherwise, they have no reason to be so kind to the foreign nanny, who will be gone in August. All this to say, God gives us just what we need in His perfect timing. Just when I was having a discouraging day with the kids and ready to throw myself a pity party, He surprised me with an unexpected act of kindness from complete strangers.

In other news, Alejandra made me stay up late last night to play Bob Esponja (Spanish version of Spongebob Squarepants and pronounced Bob E-spon-ha) Parchis and was mad at me for deciding to hold off on a game of chess for today and a bedroom sleepover for Friday. This led to Sergio and Ale refusing to leave my side as I got ready for bed, in a valiant effort to change my mind. With wide-eyed horror and fascination, they fired a multitude of questions about why I was flossing, removing make-up, and wearing retainers. Even little cranky Alvaro had insisted that only I have the honor of sitting next to him at dinner on the terraza last night. Each day, is a toss up with these kids and when I wake up in the morning I never know whether we'll be friends or enemies. Each day is new, but I guess that's life. Good thing God is in control of it all and I am not!

Candeleda

As Alberto and Solete escaped to Ibiza (tropical island between Spain and Italy), Solete's parents (Antonio and Marisol) joined the kiddos and I in Boadilla on Tuesday around lunch time. One of the very first things Antonio said to me was "you are very beautiful"...I like him. The plan was to drive with the gramps to their country house in Candeleda on Wednesday and anticipate the surprise party there on Saturday.

Before leaving for Candeleda Wednesday afternoon, Marisol and Antonio left Alvaro and I for a solid 5-hour period to go grocery shopping for the party. Since when has grocery shopping EVER in the history of grocery stores taken 5 hours??!! I guess this was more annoying at the time since I had planned to do all my packing that morning and ended up having to throw everything in a bag 15 minutes before we left instead. This is when Spanish time can be really inconvenient.

In just under 2 hours, we had already arrived in Candeleda, a quaint little town in the mountains southwest of Madrid. As Antonio informed me about their land being the third highest point in Spain, etc., I was too busy swatting flies to catch the rest of his schpeel. Never in my life have I seen more bugs in one place. I always had at least three of those bad boys landing on me (or the food) at any given time, which made feeling clean nearly impossible-- pool, shower, or otherwise. Although Marisol and Alberto didn't own any farm animals, a toxic barnyard stench hit me like a punch in the face when I the entry way. Fourteen homeless cats...

(just hanging out on the roof)

...three dogs, seven puppies, a block of potent, molding cheese the size of a beach ball, and the full leg of ham displayed on the kitchen table didn't help either. The odor cooked in the humidity, revitalizing the beast. The upside to the stagnant heat was that Ale and I never had to make our beds since we never once pulled down the covers. [Dad, I thought about you a lot this weekend because I think you absolutely would have freaked. Everything was out of order in cluttered chaos.] Perhaps ironically, however, Candeleda offered some of the most breathtaking views I've seen in Spain (and that's saying a lot)!

The first few days in Candeleda were characterized by a madhouse of children. Marisol, Nacho (Solete's brother) and I tag-teamed duty with seven cousins, all under age 9 (three under 3-years-old). I don't remember this being in the job description. Awaiting the arrival of Solete and Alberto, we spent the days swimming in the pool (the view reminded me of those infinity pools at paradise resorts)...

...catching frogs in the pond...

...playing with Yoko's 2-week-old puppies, "visiting the chickens," watching Spain dominate the World Cup games projected on a bed sheet...

(me and Ale)

...eating far too many homemade french fries, falling asleep each night hand-in-hand with Alejandra (only after being forced to tickle her arms and tell her at least 3 stories of course), and forever running after small children.

At last, Saturday was party day! Once everyone had arrived, my new friend Vero and I guessed we were somewhere between 50 and 60 people, filling up five long tables lining the perimeter of the back yard. Basically, we ate....all day. It definitely gave Thanksgiving a run for its money. We all sat down around 3:30 and didnt get up until close to 6 or so. The spread consisted of three different types of salads--fruit, potato, and seafood--three types of sausage, two types of cheese, green olives, potato chips, shrimp, perceves (weird seafood from Galicia I would not recommend), and of course, the essentials: bottomless breadbasket, beer, wine, cakes, and coffee. I may have accidentally eaten rabbit without knowing it, which upsets me more than I can express in words. I didn't know what I was doing, there were so many meats! It's hard to know, but I'm not sure I'd like to.

After lunch, I reluctantly pulled on my bathing suit to take a dip with the kiddos in the pool, only to return to snacking until dinner was "finally" served around 11. An entire day like this would never happen in the States! Isn't the time-frame one of the few vital points on any decent American party invitation? What American adults would hang out for a day-long birthday party? Who would even stay for a day-long wedding? Maybe we have too many other things going on to carve that much time out of our schedules, even for loved ones. In this sense, I think the Spaniards have it right.

(1/2 of the guests)

Tributes to Solete included a video slideshow (complete with a choreographed dance of the relatives and Alberto's debut in a blonde whig and tights)--not sure if this was some twisted inside joke or what. I didn't ask. Suso spent weeks on photoshop to enlarge and reconstruct a beautiful photo of Solete, using thousands of smaller pictures of family and friends. Finally, her loving guests were thrilled to present her with a brand new Mac computer to replace her old Dell and aid her work planning. Friends and family traveled from as far as Galicia and Valencia to honor Solete.

It's a strange thing to go to someone else's family reunion, especially when you've only just met your nuclear family connection barely one month prior....oh yeah, and in a foreign country where no one speaks your native tongue to top it all off. My strategy was to not think about it too much and just enjoy myself, which seemed to work in my favor since by and large I was accepted as one of the family anyway.

Antonio (Solete's dad) enjoyed calling me out a lot this weekend, reminding everyone (in case they had forgotten) that I was a foreigner. In the middle of lunch, he'd ask for a toast from the "American beauty"! or tell me to sing "Happy Birthday" for everyone in English. Likewise, he was just a little too eager to put friends and family alike on the spot as he introduced me as "the girl from America, isn't she beautiful!?"--beauty seems to be of utmost importance to Spaniards...that or he probably just felt bad he had forgotten my name. On Sunday, he even had me switch seats to sit next to his "favorite" (and conveniently single) son for lunch. I'd say Antonio spotted a match made in heaven, our rich conversation beginning and ending with "Could you please pass the water?"

As I mentioned before, I met a girl there named Veronica. She, like I, only knew a small handful of people and so we confided in one another's initial awkwardness. Spending six years working for American Express in London had enabled her to speak nearly perfect English. She was anxious to brush up on her skills and I was anxious to take a break from Spanish and let her. The entire time we talked, however, I felt like I was doing something illegal...a very strange feeling to have when speaking your native tongue.

Alvaro (Solete's youngest) also shares the same birthday as his mama. We celebrated Alvarito turning the big three with a pinata, ice cream cake, and goody bags.

As an extra treat for his guests, the birthday prince chose to pass out his party favors in the nude...to each his own, it's his birthday.

I keep asking how old he is now and he insists he's not a day over one. His famous line is, "Soy pequeno" (I'm little). Never before have I met a child who's accepted their youth with such grace...he is wise beyond his years.

Leaving Candeleda sweaty, tan, bug-bitten, and uncomfortably full, I was struck once again by how generous Spaniards are with family and friends (and me by association). Even in a devastating economic crisis, Marisol and Antonio welcomed swarms of people into their home to feast on food they provided solely themselves, to swim, and even spend several nights. I watched in awe as they loaded up their guests' cars with boxes of fresh produce and bottles of wine to take home with them...as if they hadn't already given more than enough.

All in all it was a great weekend, but I'm glad to be back in Madrid once again. If you think of it, please pray for me this week. Solete has already warned me she'll be gone every day into the evening, so I'm hitting the ground running and with little time off. I'll have all 3 kiddos and am expected to do English lessons everyday as well. YIKES!

Nanny's Day(s) Off!

In addition to being allowed an extra day in Salamanca last weekend, I also enjoyed two additional days off this week! What a lucky nanny! Allow me to unpack some of my adventures...

On Saturday, I chose to head into the city once again. Being an exceptionally beautiful day, I could think of no destination more appropriate than Parque de Retiro (the "Central Park" of Madrid). I braved the metro ligero and then regular metro, before resolving to walk the remaining blocks to the park. I arrived, of course, but only after being stopped by a 50-some-year-old man who felt compelled to say, "que bonita" (how beautiful) one inch from my face, wearing the blankest expression I've ever seen. Oh creepy Spanish men, how I'd missed you!

Now maybe I spoke too soon when I said that "I know the largest, craziest city in Spain like the back of my hand" since I managed to get lost at least four times in one park. If I had to get lost though, this wasn't such a bad place to be. I strolled past the rose gardens...

...stopped at a charming cafe to down an expensive coca-cola light, settled myself in a grassy spot to read, contemplated a boat ride on the lake, but ultimately decided it was either too romantic or too depressing (or both!) to execute alone.

Leaving Retiro, I made my way over to Puerta de Alcala and discovered an Italian cafe on Calle de Alcala that offered overpriced lunch in exchange for a terrace view of the metropolis building on one end:

...and La Puerta de Alcala on the other:

Meanwhile, I tried to pretend like eating a menu del dia all by myself wasn't pitiful or sad at all.

After lunch, I continued up Calle de Alcala and then Gran Via for some postcards and shopping--although I'm trying my very best to save any purchases for rebajas (big Spanish sales in July). I reoriented myself and wandered over towards the Prado (famous art museum packed with Goya, Picasso, and others). One minute I was walking past some open-air kiosks and the next thing I knew, I was holding a new scarf (woops! --a terrible Spanish habit I can't seem to shake). ...but in my defense, the guy said he'd give me a special deal for being so beautiful. I'm weak, I caved, so sue me.

Needed back home, I hopped back on the metro, then metro ligero...four line changes and one and a half hours later, I was back in downtown Boadilla del Monte (how's THAT for the directionally challenged!)

Monday was another day off, where I spent the day in Segovia, a small town about an hour west of Madrid, with Liz Bowman (American missionary neighbor). As her family is leaving for the States on Wednesday with a group of 12 Spanish kids for a month-long English immersion, Liz was very intentional about spending a special day with me.

Although I had already been to Segovia during my study abroad in Salamanca Spring 2009, I can't say I had the fondest memories of the town. It had been a freezing day in January, complete with hail, overcast skies, and blue appendages. Segovia accordingly became a big group joke, where my friend Colleen even made up a bratty little song entitled "I HATE Segovia!" All this to say, I took a risk and decided to give Segovia another shot.

First stop in Segovia was the famous Roman aqueduct:

I had never made the climb to the top before, but was thankful Liz made the suggestion since it offered a breathtaking view of the entire city with a blue mountainous backdrop. After snapping a few pictures that just couldn't adequately capture the scene, we jumped back in the car and headed for Alcazar, one of Ferdinand and Isabela's palaces.

Like the professional menu del dia connoisseurs that we are, Liz and I thoroughly scanned the plaza before finally settling down at the ideal lunch spot. Under a big white umbrella and perfectly blue sky, I enjoyed judiones de la Granja (white bean and chorizo soup), cochinillo (baby pig specialty of Segovia...mildly upsetting), and then ponche Segoviana (specialty sponge cake of Segovia) and port wine to finish it all off. All in perfect Spanish fashion too, just under 2 hours!

After lunch, we toured the palace Alcazar and scaled the highest tower for another incredible view.

In each room I was overcome with extreme de ja vue moments. Remembering how miserably wet and freezing we were in January, I was amazed at how cold the inside was even in the summertime.

Back in Boadilla to an empty home, the Bowman's invited me to watch the World Cup game between Spain and Honduras at their house. For weeks, Spanish flags have been waving from nearly every house in the neighborhood, which meant a couple very LOUD hours during the game. Regardless of the vastly different regions in Spain, it's clear the Spanish unify the country through soccer.

Obviously, I was torn, but at the same time I'd have been kicked out on the street so quickly had I cheered for any team other than Spain.

Today began phase-1 of Solete's 40th birthday surprise. She and Alberto left this morning for who knows where and Solete's parents will sleep here with the kiddos and me tonight. Tomorrow (after Sergio and Ale's last day of school!), we'll make the journey to the mountains of Candeleda, two hours west of Madrid where Solete's parents live. Solete and Alberto will join us on Saturday for the party, all of us returning again to Boadilla on Sunday or Monday. Poor Solete has suspected that a surprise party is being planned, but hasn't a clue about the details, which has just about eaten her alive.

I'm sure to return with some interesting stories...

Daily Bread

While Ale and Sergio are at school, Alvaro (almost 3) and I spend the mornings together, coloring, "speaking English," playing soccer at the park, and watching cartoons. Our most important daily task, however, is buying bread at the corner store.

All the way, we walk at the flying pace of .1 mile per year since he insists on pushing the "carrito" (stroller) instead of riding in it himself...or sometimes he nixes the stroller get-up altogether and I get the privilege of lugging Mr. Chubs, his daily chocolate egg, at least 2 toy cars, and of course, the bread, all the way home.

The Spanish buy bread everyday and like clockwork I can expect to see neighbors heading home just before siesta with a baguette or two under their arm. I always seem to think I will have the willpower to resist my slice at lunch or later at dinner, but as soon as the cashier hands me that fresh, warm, intoxicating smelling baked bread, I am overcome by a force far more powerful than I. Why does this have to be OUR job everyday??!

I've sought, however, to justify my daily bread intake for a couple of reasons...

Solete often drops Alv and I off mid-errands and sends us in the general direction of a distant park, shopping mall, etc. I've learned that nodding my head and smiling through vague, rapid-fire directions in Spanish can be a recipe for disaster (little does Solete know that I get lost in my own 2-square mile town in the US). All this to say, I do a lot of walking.

In other news, this morning I braved the streets of Boadilla del Monte on bike in pursuit of a Post Office. Either Solete and Alberto were playing a sick joke on me or we need to have a serious discussion of what exactly they consider to be "not that far away." Not surprisingly, I got lost along the way, but a kind Spaniard let me follow his car and led me the rest of the way to the Post Office. For those of you fortunate to receive a letter or postcard from Madrid this summer, please know it cost me an hour bike ride.

So give me this day my daily bread! :)

Final Days in the 'Manc

Woke up Sunday morning for church (the only Evangelical church in the entire city where I attended a few times last Spring), where I sat next to a very sweet elderly lady who shared her song book with me. After the service, I thanked her and she said (in Spanish, duh), “Oh honey, that’s because we’re sisters in Christ!” and greeted me with a kiss.

After church, I made the trek to the bus station to change my ticket for Monday night. I never wanted to leave. In fact, I almost got the feeling that I lived there again and that I didn't actually have a job to return to in Madrid…or that real life waits for me in the States.

Escoli and Pilar (Isa's friend from work) came over for lunch….apparently it was Isa’s 46th birthday and I didn’t know L Madre made baked chicken and apples, which was my ultimate favorite meal from last year (maybe even of all time…tied with cheeseburgers? Agh, it’s a tough call) and homemade French fries….followed by—wait for it—THREE rounds of dessert. First, the melon came out, then homemade natillas (much like custard). I really started to panic when Isa brought out a huge tray of dessert pastries from Gil, the local bakery, so when madre told me to go to bed as she always does after lunch, I didn’t say no thank you. She also asked me if I had any clothes I needed washed…I was tempted to say yes just so I could feel like I still lived here. I wish that were still true!!! L

Finally some sunshine (!!), I went for a beautiful run by El Rio Tormes. I took my sweet time on the way back to stop into a few souvenir shops (I wanted to get some small gifts for the kiddos back in Madrid to say thanks for letting me stay in Salamanca an extra day!)

As any typical Salamantino would, I sat ON the plaza basking in the afternoon sun...I just had to. This is one of the things I miss most about Salamanca. Everywhere I looked, people were eating gelato or meeting friends over coffee, and groups of University students were sunbathing and sharing cigarettes on the cobblestone floor of the plaza.

After a dinner of Spanish tortilla, oily and salty tomatoes, and pastry for dessert, I joined madre in the sunroom for some of The Da Vinci Code (dubbed in Spanish of course).

Later, I met up with Cesar at Birdland (I showed him a new bar!), where he bought me a caña and we talked about everything from religion to our biggest pet peeves. He walked me home and gave me two cds of Spanish music (I only vaguely remember mentioning I wanted to download more) along with a very sweet letter reminding me that have a friend in Salamanca that will never forget me. I’m glad this isn’t goodbye forever, though, since he says he’ll be visiting Madrid sometime in July.

Monday morning, I woke up early to make the most of my last day in the ‘Manc. I showered, ate breakfast, and was out the door by 11 (this is a big deal considering my weekend schedule). After making a quick stop by the post office to mail my postcards, I wove in and out of a few of my favorite stores on Calle Toro (finally open!) just as I used to do so often. I bought flowers, a card, and a vase (from open-air pottery market on Zamora) for madre as a small thank you. Turns out my gesture made her angry, but it was worth it.

Lucia (madre's son's 5-year-old daughter) was over for lunch: noodle soup (like homemade version of soup secrets), chicken filets—salt, oil, onion, breadcrumbs, and garlic--I say this so I will remember how to make this myself!, bread, fruit, and more pastries.

Afterwards, I said “goodbye” to the Plaza and the river, and sipped a delicious iced cappuccino at Café del Arte, even though my bartender wasn't there :-/

The beautiful weather made it even harder to leave. I kissed madre and Luis goodbye, handed them my keys, and tried to fight back the tears. Madre reminded me that I always have a family in Salamanca and even gave me Isa’s cell phone number so that I can visit them in their country house (30 minutes outside Sal) before I go back for the summer. I just might take them up on that one ;)

Lucia, madre, and me

This was such a whirlwind of a trip, strange, wonderful, sad, nostalgic, so many emotions all at once. Until the next time, Sal!

Saturday in the 'Manc

“Wake up in the morning, smellin’ like an ashtray!” This is something I did not miss about Spain.

Lazin' around the house for the morning, madre had me try on one of Isa’s really nice dresses in an effort to have me take it for myself as it was too short for Isa. This was awkward because while it was SO sweet of her, I didn’t really like it and she even went to the trouble of showing me the expensive price tag. Somehow I got out of that one insisting (no fewer than 10 times) that I have nowhere to wear it and no room in my suitcase.

Lunch was one of madre's most famous dishes: paella with chicken, egg, shrimp and peppers, with bread, watermelon and cherries.

I finally left the house a little after 3, yikes. No rain until evening, but very overcast with threatening clouds all day. My first plan of action was to check out the souvenir shops by the university for a few random goodies being that Saturday was yet another Spanish holiday (something about the patron of Salamanca or San Juan or both), virtually every other store was closed. I resolved to purchase some postcards and plop myself down at a café in the plaza, under a large white umbrella with a café con leche.

While writing home, I was serenaded by large groups of drunken fools, covered head-to-toe in green paraphernalia, singing very loudly. Every Irish pub in Salamanca was busting with costumed people chanting and drinking. Apparently some Irish (soccer?) team would be coming there on Sunday or something…my camarero (waiter) was of zero help to me when I asked. I took a scenic route back up calle Zamora stopping at an open-air market of handmade pottery.

Around that time, Cesar called me and I met up with him and his Chinese roommate Huan…I felt so bad, especially since my Spanish isn’t fab either, but speaking Spanish with a STRONG Chinese accent really threw me off and understood about 1 of every 15 words.

Ces took us foreigners to the Plaza de los Toros. He also made me very aware of just how embarrassing it was that while I had lived in Salamanca for 4 months, I had never been to this part of the city...apparently it's a pretty touristy spot. WHATEVER WHATEVER! Having already missed the running of the bulls, we waited in the cold and the rain for the matadors to come out so we could get our picture taken with them, only to find them already changed into normal clothes in the end. The excursion wasn’t entirely a flop though since we played the "clueless foreigner" card and got to peek inside and walk around the arena. Also, now I can say I’ve finally visited another famous Salamantino site.

Back home for dinner, madre made me French tortilla—another all-time fav of mine--salty and oily salad, and some leftover paella from lunch.

Around midnight, I met up again with Cesar and his friend under the clock and went to another new bar for me, where I ordered my first calimoxo (red wine and coke) in a while!! Upon Huan's request, we headed to Irish Rover :/ and then upon mine, to DANIEL’S! We ended up hanging out in the same spot of the bar where we had taken a big group picture—Spanish and American friends together---last Spring, which was cool, weird, and kinda sad. They walked me back home around 5am and agreed to meet the next day. I really feel like I’ve gotten to know Cesar a lot better in even just 2 days here. He is such a nice guy, really smart and very patient with me...a good friend.

Long Weekend in the 'Manc

Last week was rough, I'm not gonna lie. Since being here, I've struggled with feeling lonely, often going days without speaking even a word of English. As thrilled as I am to be back in the country I love so much, the adjustment has been at times harder than I expected. Try disciplining children in a different language. It can be very frustrating (and sometimes even dangerous) when I can't say what I want to fast enough. All this to say, I was itching for a break, a weekend away...in my sweet Salamanca to be exact :)

I will warn you right now that this post is gonna be a doozy, so read at your own risk…or when you have some time to kill.

From Boadilla del Monte, I took a car, metro, bus, and taxi before arriving at my door in Salamanca. My heart beating a million times a minute, I rung up and madre was waiting in the doorway for me with a huge smile. Everything smelled the same. I especially remembered the stairwell. I realize this sounds strange, but it really brought on the nostalgia. Luis (padre) came in a little while later and, even being the cranky little old man that he is, told me he was happy to see me and gave me two very intentional kisses on my cheeks.

Madre reminded me where everything in “my” house was and told me to help myself to whatever I want! She said she’d have been mad at me if I had stayed anywhere else but her house in Sal. And when I told her that my bus would leave Sunday night she was upset I wasn’t staying longer, assuring me that the Madrid fam would understand if I changed my ticket to stay one extra day.

Mom, you should also know that she brought up your visit with Bekah again and how embarrassed she was that she didn't have a better meal prepared. She said that you were probably thinking, “what kind of house is this where my daughter has been living?!” She is ridiculous.

Almost immediately, I helped madre set the table and we ate alone together since Isa had taken Luis to the doctor (needed to check something out with his eye). One of the first things madre asked me was if my Madrid family was feeding me well because I was “so thin.” I assured her that now I am normal, only thinnER since last spring (I didn’t go into detail about how she played a pivotal role in my weight gain during my time in Spain).

Over lunch, I got caught up on all the Salamantino madre gossip and shared some of my nanny adventures over rigatoni with meat, cheese, and red sauce, chicken fillets with onion, butter, and garlic sauce, bread, and watermelon. She said she remembered I always loved everything (what an embarrassing reputation though, yikes)....followed by an obligatory siesta (nap)...after all, it's tradish in madre's household.

For those JMU students who have studied in Sal (or for those who were avid readers of my Salamanca blog), I feel obligated to report a few changes in the 'Manc since I left it last Spring: Isa is now blonde; “my room” now only has one bed (probably all it should have had in the first place) and is more like a sewing/storage room now;

...the trees outside my window are taller now and I can’t see as much of the street to the left towards Avenida Portugal; construction on Av. Portugal is finished and so is the Corte Ingles (department store);

...they’re building a new hotel near Casa de Las Conchas;

...many more Americans are also in Salamanca now vacationing or studying over the summer. Alexandra, this will pull a little at your heart strings: what used to be Pans (Spanish version of Subway) near the University is now a 50’s fast food diner;

And my roommate Allison will find this especially unfortunate: Isa informed me that she has internet in her room….whether this is a new installment or simply something we were hidden from before I will never know.

Regardless of the rainy afternoon, I couldn't wait to walk around. It was so strange and wonderful to be back, I just wished my JMU groupies could have been there to enjoy it with me. On my rounds, I knew I had to stop by Café del Arte. My bartender sort of smiled at me when I went to the bar to pay...I asked if he remembered me, and he did. He said he saw me when he walked in but wasn’t sure if it was really me. We caught up a bit and he told me the café con leche was on him!

Next, I walked through Plaza GG just to see if Super 24 was still in business and I couldn’t hide my smile when I saw it was…still chuggin’ along, thank God…bought a bottle of Tinto del Verano (red wine and club soda) for tradition’s sake.

Still pouring rain, I went for a run through Parque de los Jesuitas. Since the doctor says I'm not actually supposed to be running due to my Scoliosis, I couldn't help but feel like a rebel. A return to my Spanish diet, however, makes running every once in a while well worth the risk to me.

That night, as Ascencion and co. were at a wedding (at which, I would later find out Luis was a dancing machine), I met up with a girl from the JMU summer program who is living with Escoli (Ascencion’s niece) down the road. We met the rest of the JMU group in the Plaza at 11, just as I used to do with my own group J although kind of embarrassingly early for Spain. On account of the holiday weekend, there was a concert in the Plaza of a UK band called the Go! Team, which was pretty cool to see.

At 12:30, I met up with Cesar “debajo del reloj” (under the clock) just like old times and headed to Erasmus. The World cup was on TV and everyone in the bar was dressed up and extremely spirited.

Although I was initially pretty worried about the speaking and listening situation with Cesar (he was always impossible to understand …even sometimes for Spaniards) I was able to get the vast majority and carry on a decent convo. We talked and talked in the booth for almost 3 hours until Natalio joined us! They each bought me a drink and made fun of my “Mexican” accent and I made fun of how they pronounced “google” as “googlay"...but of course I was outnumbered. Around 3am, we headed to a new bar (for me) called Calle Mayor and then another named Bisu (?) or something like that, which proved a very posh discoteca. "Old man" Cesar ditched us around 5am and Natalio and I wrapped up the night at Khandavia for old times sake. Only as we were (well, as I was workin’ it on the dance floor, did I find out that Nat actually doesn’t like dancing or the club scene at all…he only suggested going there because he knew that I do. He gave me his jacket, told me I had beautiful eyes, dropped me off right at my door, promised me that he’ll drive to Madrid to see me before I leave and that I always have a home/place to stay in Salamanca. Oh Spanish men, you kill me.

...Well, SOME Spanish men that is. Nat left my side for one second and the next a 32-year-old drunken fool was explaining to me how taken he is with exotic women (aka me, ms. foreigner of the moment) and how he just happens to work 20 min from where I now live in Madrid…convenient.

Home after 6:30am woo baby!

Weekend in Galicia

This past weekend the Sanchez clan let me tag along on their first vacation of the summer.

Leaving Boadilla del Monte (Madrid) on Thursday, we traveled in typical Spanish fashion, stopping no less than three times at various cafes for coffee and pinchos (small tapas). Nearly six hours later (and 2 hours behind schedule), we arrived in Galicia where Suso's family lives.

Galicia is in the far northwestern region of Spain, directly above Portugal, straddling the Cantabrian Sea and Atlantic Ocean. Never have I ever seen vaster or greener rolling hills. Surrounded on all sides by water and mountains, everywhere I looked was simply breathtaking.

The home where Suso's family lives is actually more like a small apartment building...four levels in all, complete with luggage elevator, pool, and outdoor kitchen. I felt like I had jumped into a scene out of a movie.

Not wasting the fleeting hours of sun, all three kids stripped right there on the pool deck and changed into bathing suits to swim. Meanwhile, I tried not to ask Alejandra if she had forgotten her top...clearly she had made no such mistake. This look may not be cute for much longer.

Upon Loli's (Suso's sassy mom) urging that I change my clothes, I joined the others to make myself presentable and walked to the plaza for drinks before dinner. Although probably only a 5 minute stroll normally, we must have stopped at least 6 different times to say hello to another passerby. It was clear that everyone in this town knew each other, which made falling in love with Galicia easy from the get-go.

Back at "home" around 10:30pm, all of us crammed around the kitchen table for a dinner of steak filets, Spanish tortilla stuffed with chorizo three inches high, and of course, more wine. Shortly after, we were all ready for bed. "My" family and I enjoyed the entire top floor of the house to ourselves; Sergio, Ale, and I sleeping in one room, Solete, Alberto, and Alvaro in the other.

Each morning, none of us woke up before noon...not even little Alvaro. We began each day at the same quaint little cafe across from the plaza, drinking coffee, playing chess, and reading the paper.

Alvaro eating doughnuts at the cafe bar...like a pro

On Friday, upon leaving the cafe, we poked around an open-air market, which sold everything from ham legs and potatoes to scarves and handbags. Then we headed to the beach.

While Solete, the kids, and I searched for shells, Alberto and Suso stopped at a nearby cafe for drinks and pinchos (because it had almost been a whole hour since our last cafe!)

Sergio and Alejandra

Alejandra and I

Solete, Ale, Alvaro, and Sergio

Around 3, we headed back to the house for lunch, which was prepared on a long, beautiful table outside, situated between the open-air kitchen and the patio.

Sergio and Suso walking back from the beach

Long story short, I ate well this weekend...too well. Living right on the water and with Suso's uncle a professional fisherman, we enjoyed a plethora of seafood dishes--many I had never tried before nor had ever seen, but I've learned that often, ignorance is bliss when it comes to dining in Spain. Besides seafood, we enjoyed crab salad, fried potato bites (apparently, Galicia is famous for its potatoes), red sausage and more mystery meat, octopus (a first AND a last), a vegetable they call asparagus, but is really more like hearts of palm, weird Spanish salad, fruit, more Spanish tortilla, empanadas, never-ending bread and wine...AND walnut cakes, ice-cream, and coffee to top off the already massive stomach ache.

I feel little need then to explain the following food coma I experienced after lunch each day and the inevitable 2-hour siesta my body so craved. Looks like I've easily slipped back into my disgusting, gluttonous lifestyle once again, but I BLAME SPAIN!

To state the obvious, lunch is a real ordeal in Spain. I honestly wish anyone from home could have seen what meal time was like, because the picture below just doesn't do it justice. Imagine 20-some Spaniards (and one American chica of course) crowded around a table just big enough to cram all the platters of food and bottles of wine, passing plates, gossiping and laughing and yelling about anything and everything. Many times, we were still at the table nearly three hours later.

Despite the fact that the region of Galicia speaks a dialect of Spanish mixed with Greek (SO sing-songy), I was miraculously able to understand the majority of the exchange (a huge blessing!). They assured me that I spoke "perfectly" and that my pronunciation was dead-on, but much more probable is that they've simply never heard an American try to speak Spanish before. Anyways, I'll take a compliment when I can get it ;)

We wrapped up the tail end of Friday night by visiting the fair and, even later, a concert of a famous Spanish artist, David Ibera. I still have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I was walking out the door, pushing a 2-year-old in a stroller just before midnight to BEGIN the evening festivities.

(from left to right in the front row): Berta (Suso's cousin), Sergio, Ale, Laura (another cousin), and me

Although Saturday was rainy and overcast, the weather did not stunt the days' activities. Beginning the morning (pushing afternoon) lounging in the cafe once again, we strolled the main drag to view the "alfombra." The word literally means rug and that's essentially what it was, except on the street. For this particular holiday (which I still don't completely understand), people in the town decorate the road. They create pictures and designs which tell the story of "el Camino de Santiago" (the journey/way of Saint James) using little more than sand, flowers, coffee, and leaves. We witnessed the comencement of the project in the morning:

and the finished product in the afternoon....really impressive stuff:

Alejandra, Laura, and Sergio

Another fabulous day of painfully stuffed bellies and long siestas, we wrapped up the evening around 2am after fireworks and one more turn at the fair.

The festivities continued on Sunday as we all loaded on Loli and Suso Sr.'s boat. As Solete and I were last to leave the house, Loli was sweet enough to escort us by car, dropping us off ON the dock within just a few feet of the boat--I mean, it's HER boat, she does what she wants!

Our boat was one of many in a water caravan following a boat that carried a shrine to the virgin (which virgin I don't know...de Carmen maybe?) Trying and failing to save my ears from deafening canons and boat horns, we finally reached a point where the passengers threw flowers into the water (though of what this was symbolic I don't know). Clearly I derived a lot of meaning out of this holiday.

Suso Sr. and Loli...really, too cute for words

Alejandra and me on the boat

The boat carrying the shrine to the mysterious virgin

Since leaving before lunch was obviously out of the question, we didn't leave Galicia until 6pm. Saying goodbye to Loli and Suso's family was a lot harder than I had originally anticipated. It's pretty crazy how quickly I felt as if I were a part of their family myself. Our one tiff was that I was far too timid in waiting to be served. From the very first hour I was in her home she refused to bring me anything as I was supposed to act as if I were in my own home.

If I'm fortunate enough to start a family of my own one day, I hope to have a house like Loli's. She lures friends and family and strangers alike into her home with her hospitality, cooking, and overall charm.

Loading all the kiddos and suitcases into the car, Loli gave me a near-suffocating hug and assured me that I always have a home in Galicia, with or without the Sanchez family. I've never felt so welcomed anywhere ever...much less by complete strangers half-way across the world.

Afternoon in the City

My morning commenced with a very sweet wake-up call from this little guy...

(it's really hard not to laugh at his angry face)

Alvaro and I spent the morning together again, coloring, speaking English (well, I was speaking English), and of course, kicking the soccer ball. Soon after lunch, Solete left to run errands and pick up the older two from school. Alvaro and I kept ourselves busy, first with a trip to the park and then to the store to buy bread and a special chocolate treat for eating all of his chicken at lunch (bribery goes a long way with this one). The plan after lunch is that Alvaro naps, but for the past 2 days, he hasn't exactly kept his end of the deal. He stays up in his room with the door closed and thinks he's fooling me or something--as if I can't hear toy cars and books crashing down from the bookshelves every five minutes. Anyways, we're working on it, but it makes for a very fussy afternoon.

This afternoon, Sergio had a birthday party in Boadilla del Monte to attend, while Alvaro and Ale planned to attend their cousin, Daniela's, birthday party in the city (Madrid). These kids put my social life to shame. What this meant for me, however, was a free afternoon in the city! This was honestly the best thing that Solete could've done for me. She dropped me off at Plaza Mayor and let me roam free for almost two hours. I didn't have a plan, but that was the best part. I just wanted to walk around and bask in the ambiance of all my fond, familiar places. The funny thing is that I get lost almost everywhere I go in the States, and yet I know my way around the largest, craziest city in Spain like the back of my hand.

I perused through the Plaza, made my way over to the Palacio Real...

...headed back up Calle Mayor before paying my respects to La Plaza de Santo Domingo, where my mom, sister, and I stayed spring break of last year. Soaking it all in and trying not to cry like a fool, I sauntered up Gran Via, one of my absolute favorite shopping spots:

Unfortunately, I had only just withdrawn cash, put minutes on my phone, and poked around in one clothing store before it was already time to meet Solete back at the Plaza. I am contented to know that I still have until August to spend more time in my beloved city.

When we picked up Alvaro and Ale from the birthday party at a nearby park, I had the privilege of meeting 3 of Solete's 4 siblings. Stopping on the way back to have the car inspected, we arrived home just before 10pm and as the sun was setting. It's true, it doesn't get dark here until almost 10pm during the summer, which makes the Spanish lifestyle of late dinners and later bedtimes for small children slightly more understandable.

Off to Galicia tomorrow! That is, if Sergio's stomach bug goes away...:/

First (Official) Day of Work

Today I began my June schedule as a nanny. They have pulled Alvaro (2) out of daycare for the summer since I am here now. We will spend the mornings together before I feed him lunch and put him down for a nap. All the while the parents want me to speak with him in English. The only problem is....he doesn't speak or understand English. He does know a few numbers and colors, but these only go so far when trying to call him into the house or ask what he wants to eat for a snack. I say the sentence first in English, then in Spanish, and again in English. I'm already tired of hearing myself speak.

Solete and Alberto seem to have very high expectations for their children. Sergio and Alejandra are enrolled in a bilingual school and attend extra English classes at the Bowman's 3 times each week, which even Alvaro attends. I'll be taking over these classes next week...yikes.

This morning Alvaro and I walked to a nearby park, which we enjoyed all to ourselves. We played with ants, toy cars, and of course, his soccer ball. Never have I ever played with a toddler who could roll his "r's" and kick a ball better than I can. It's pretty amazing.

We headed home for lunch and hit a bit of a rough patch when I separated two yogurt cups for him to eat one. WHAT.WAS.I.THINKING?!?!?! Of COURSE he wanted them to be stuck together! Before too long, Suso (good friend of Alberto's) came over and saved the day. Alvaro is clearly crazy about him. I enjoyed a short nap break while Suso and Alv went to pick up the two older kids from school.

All the niños back at home, Sergio, Alvaro, and I played an ugly game of tennis on the court across the street in the center of the neighborhood before heading off to English class. Poor Solete was home for less than two hours before she had to rush out again for a meeting, leaving me to feed the little ones dinner and put them to bed. Alberto and Solete are struggling to start a company in planning business meetings and so are working around the clock to try and get it off the ground in the shaky Spanish economy.

Thursday, the kids don't have school due to some Spanish holiday...something about flowers and a parade and a fair. Sometimes I wonder if half of these holidays aren't made up just to create more days off from work and school; that wouldn't surprise me in the least. Anyways, they have invited me on their first family vacation of the summer to Galicia in northern Spain. All I know is that we'll be spending the weekend with good family friends on their farm, they have a pool, and I'll be sharing a bed with Alejandra. Though the trip has the potential to be both awkward and confusing, I'm excited to be included (because I don't think I was originally invited) haha. Vamos a ver (We will see) !