What gets left behind

I have a lot of words my head that when, sitting in front of this computer screen, seem to stall at my fingertips. I'm not sure what to say but I feel like something needs to be said, if only to give some form to my thoughts. Maybe I can stop the buzzing in my skull. I've kept this blog fairly personal, but at this moment I feel some distance is necessary.

Travel blogs (could this even be considered as such, given the lack of travel?) tend to glamourize living abroad. Look at our exciting expat lives! We go to a new country every month! Something something expanded horizons! 

While I think there is some truth behind the glitz, I also tend to downplay the sacrifices I've made to move to a foreign country. Granted, I think my situation is slightly different from your average auxiliar. Most people treat the program as a two year break before "adulthood." They work part-time for a decent wage and travel  during their three-day weekends. In the end, they pack their belongings and go home to their friends and family. Dating a Spaniard complicates things. Where is home now? Is it in the apartment I share with Álvaro in Madrid? Is it my parents' home in California? To be honest, I'm not quite sure. I've always felt torn between the here and there. Something will always be missing, but in the meantime it looks like I've chosen Spain as my residence. I've better luck as an English teacher, and Álvaro has both his job and his studies here.

I knew the consequences of my decision the moment I stepped on the plane back to the USA in May 2011, shortly after our relationship began. A trans-atlantic relationship always means that someone gets left behind. If we have kids, they will be slightly estranged from one set of grandparents. Visiting family will become a thousand-euro affair, with trips spaced months (if not years apart). You can't just head home at a moment's notice. I chose to accept the risk, taking things as they come. I pushed these thoughts aside as something that "future me" will have to contend with.

I'm lucky to have my parents' support. They've always given me the opportunity to experience new things that they never could. Since I was 18 and headed off to university 6 hours away, I've spent the majority of my adulthood away from home. They stood behind my decision to come to Spain, knowing that with my relationship I might not be coming back. I'd like to think that I'm better for it, and I'm grateful for having such self-sacrificing parents.

But in light of recent events, I can't help but feel that I've been behaving selfishly. I can't stop thinking about the whys and what ifs, the should'ves, could'ves and would'ves. Why didn't I go home for Christmas? Why did I want to travel Europe, instead of going home for the summer? I should've Skyped more.

I have a lot of hard choices to make. My time is Spain may be ending.


I'm a long, long way from home.

Dia del Libro

When I went to Barcelona, our walking tour guide briefly mentioned Saint George's Day in Cataluña, where couples exchange roses and books. Although Madrid doesn't partake in this tradition, every 23rd of April Spain celebrates World Book Day, a day commemorating literature. Despite its status as an international holiday, I've never actually heard of it. The teachers arranged an amigo invisible (secret pal) type book exchange, but I was surprised to find that the celebration extended beyond simply buying a book for a co-worker.

Yesterday I essentially worked from 9:15 to 10:00, after which I watched the 5th graders perform skits for the other classes. After a half-hour recess, I walked into my classroom and discovered that they would be covering short stories--in Spanish. At 12:30, the teachers ducked into the library for pastries and the book exchange. My amigo invisible--who still unfortunately remains a mystery--gave me a copy of short stories from a well-known Spanish author.

I'm always impressed with how Spaniards manage to make a big deal of even the smallest celebrations. There was so much energy and excitement over the the book exchange, and afterward the teachers went to the local bar for a drink. We're not in Kansas anymore.

In short, I basically did no work, received a brand new book, got to drink a few beers on my lunch break, and left work almost two hours early--all in the name of literature. Go books!

Strawberry Fields Forever

I mentioned earlier that I was eagerly awaiting warmer weather. Well, with the flip of a switch I've traded my wool coat for a pair of sunglasses because SPRING HAS ARRIVED. On Saturday we were graced with the most glorious weather. I hardly knew how to react to being warm, after spending six months bundled under layers. Álvaro and I took advantage of the weather and ate sandwiches in Retiro Park and walked around the city center. Madrid is a different animal when the sun comes out. The streets are suddenly packed with people who, like myself, want to enjoy the brief interim before the summer heat sets in. We finally caved and bought some table and chairs to put out on our terrace, so now we can enjoy a view of the city while we have dinner.

Even Álvaro, who is normally more inclined to spend his weekend at home (to be fair, between work and school the guy doesn't get much downtime), suggested we take a day trip to Aranjuez. Aranjuez is a city at the southernmost tip of the Comunidad de Madrid (Madrid community? Madrid province? State of Madrid?). It is most well-known for its royal palace, sprawling gardens, and strawberries. Two years ago I watched an episode of Made in Spain, where José Andrés takes a train to Aranjuez and eats the tiniest strawberries, which are apparently too delicate to be shipped elsewhere. Since then, I've wanted to go there myself and try some.

Álvaro didn't exactly share my excitement, but he was a good sport while I pouted and said, "No, not those big strawberries. They have to be the little ones." My parents used to call me Veruca Salt. I can't imagine why.

In all seriousness, Aranjuez was a relaxing day trip. It's not as visually stunning as Toledo or Segovia, but the large royal gardens offer the opportunity to spend a day enjoying the sunshine without needing to actually do much. We walked, we ate bocadillos, we took photos.

In front of the palace.

The royal palace

Fresones con nata -- Large strawberries with cream

In the garden

And yes, I did get those strawberries.

Sweet victory. Tastes like wild strawberry.

Anniversary

Celebrating an anniversary is a personal affair between two people, and writing about it on the internet only serves to brag to strangers that your relationship hasn't failed yet. Congratulations, you want a medal or something? That said, it's my blog, and I can do what I want. Nyah nyah.

So today marks Álvaro and my two year anniversary. That's two years longer than I thought we'd have together. I don't mean to sound cynical, but we had met at the tail end of my study abroad adventure. I was leaving Spain on the first of May, and in that time I would be spending a week in Italy. All in all, that left just two weeks of actual physical time together, not including class and work. Although I had already started forming a plan to come back to Spain, I wasn't expecting a relative stranger to wait a year and a half for me. I figured we'd enjoy a brief but pleasant two weeks together and go our separate ways. That didn't stop me from tearing up when my plane landed on American soil. 

The first of many photos

That summer, our Skype conversations became a daily occurance. My parents and friends were, at this point, well aware of my long-distance friend. Eventually, he started dropping hints about visiting the states, and he bought a plane ticket. Thankfully, my parents reacted well (I think) to the news that my friend? would be staying at our house for a month. That trip solidified our relationship status, we spent the next year and a half in a long-distance dance. I flew back to Madrid the following January to meet the parents, and he came to California twice after (once in February, and then again in August).

Álvaro's first time in California

Here we are, two years later, living under the same roof. Hopefully this is only the beginning. Happy anniversary, Álvarito. Te quiero.

The Bright Side

Always look on the bright side of life

I've been in a funk. Don't get me wrong, I am still enjoying my time in Spain, but I find myself grumbling about work, about the weather, about the slightest inconvenciences (You mean I have to work a full four days instead of three? Ugh). I think this six-month winter is the culprit. I enjoy the cold and the change in temperature, but it's been gloomy since October. It rained constantly during the month of March, and I'm ready for sunny skies. This time two years ago I was sporting light sweaters and spending my free time in the park. Now, I'm still bundled under layers of wool while I look out my window and the ceaseless downpour. Maybe I should build an ark.

Whoops, there I go complaining in a post that supposed to be positive. Lately, I've been trying to combat my sour mood by reminding myself that good things are coming.

The Weather
I've admittedly become obsessed with the weather forecast as of late. I'm constantly hunting for the promise of sunny skies. I am ready for spring. Spain is a different country when the weather warms up. The winter hibernation ends. People flock to terraces to drink beer in the warm afternoon. Parks are filled with bikes, children playing, picnics, and overly-affectionate couples. I look around and everything is turning green. Flowers are blooming in the overgrown grass. I am finally starting to shed my winter coat, and this weekend promises sunshine and warm air. When the weather is nice, I can stroll around the city without worrying about ducking into some bar for shelter. Not to mention, my tiny apartment has a disproportionatly large terrace which is ideal for hanging out and enjoying a glass of wine. Fellow auxiliares, be prepared for an invite.

More of this, please

Travel

Ok, so I haven't actually got any big trips planned, and with the rising airline prices and lack of summer employment, it looks like I won't be going very far this year. BUT, I do have some pending trips up my sleeve. Álvaro and I bought a Groupon for a hotel and wine-tasting in La Rioja (Spain's "wine country"), and all that's left is to book the hotel. I'm really looking forward to exploring more of this country.

Also, in June I'll be making a second trip to Barcelona. After such a good experience with the high-speed trains, I realized that a day trip was actually possible. So, with my parents, we'll have a good twelve hours to explore the most interesting parts of the city. No luggage, no hotels. Just hop on the train and back.Which brings me to my next point....

My parents are visiting!!!!

Frankly, this subject could use some more exclamation points. I've actually been sitting on this piece of news since January. They'll be staying for two weeks, arrving in late May when the weather should be at its best (there I go with the weather again). Unfortunately, I'll still have to work but we'll have the afternoons and three-day weekends to spend together. My parents have never been to Europe, so I'm particularly proud that I've given them the excuse to come abroad. I can't wait to show them around. Also, they'll get to meet Álvaro's parents, which should be interesting, given that they don't speak Spanish (and his parents don't speak much English). Still, I haven't seen them since early September and I couldn't be happier.

Interim

Semana Santa is over, and it's back to work. Since I've slacked in regards to posting, I've figured that now would be a good time to update on the little things that have happened between La Granja and Barcelona. Adjusting to a new country hinges on forming a routine. For the first six months, life was constantly changing. Álvaro and I were furnishing the apartment, and every other week I was battling a new ailment. I barely had time to meet new people, and consequently it was a rough few months.

I can't say I feel completely settled, but I've since adapted to life in Spain. Some of it I attribute to pure luck. This year, they've opened both a library and a gym less than five minutes from my apartment. I now fill in the awkward two hour lunch break with Spanish-language books, and I try to dedicate at least an hour after work to go to the gym. It's a good excuse to get out of the house and feel like I've accomplished something that day.

I've also started to find cafés, bars, and restaurants which have become my "go-to" spots on the weekends. Almost all are in the Malasaña neighborhood of Madrid (known for being young and trendy), and all attract American expats. I enjoy Spanish culture, but after spending almost eight months here I find comfort in more Americanized specialties: craft beer, brunch, latte art--all of which are a bit out of the range of "typical" Spanish cuisine.

On a more interesting note, I also witnessed a gas line explode on my street in early March. I had a birds-eye view from my terrace before deciding that I should probably evacuate the building, at which point the power was shut off, making it a moot point to hang around in a dark apartment.

So that's about it, I suppose. Have some photos.

Gas line explosion

I test my mediocre art skills on my 2nd graders

Finally found good beer in Spain