It’s Monday a few minutes after noon, 72 degrees and sunny, and I’m lying outside on my (Airbnb 3/3) rooftop terrace—sunbathing in the middle of September. I am using a bit of a wonky stomach and a stuffy nose as an excuse to take (at least half of) today off from the seven-day bender that is San Mateo, to stay horizontal as long as possible and, of course, to get another post out into the inter-webs for you!
So much can happen in just one week.
I know they say that’s how it goes. But it’s true, at least here, at least now! Days feel as full as entire weekends, stuffed like Thanksgiving feasts; I am walking 10-11 miles back and forth every day; the summer freckles on my nose are multiplying from spending my hours mostly in the sun, double-checking my Apple Maps and wondering whether maybe this shadeless cafe will serve me some tap water, when normally by this time in September they’ve already begun fading into hibernation till June.
Day one, we unloaded our 9 suitcases, found burgers for dinner, went to test out the nightlife (there is a Route 66 themed bar, and I feel old there). Saturday, I honestly don’t remember. Sunday, Mass, tried the bus, went for a hike, sampled 100 Montaditos (prominent fast food chain in Spain that serves 100 different tiny sandwiches). Then it was grocery shopping, setting up apartment tours, saying yes!!! to our dream apartment, finding another Airbnb since we cannot move in until late September, preparing my introduction presentation for my first days of school, giving said introduction presentation 12 times in 2 days, having some children raise their hands and say, “I love you!” (*melts*), moving our luggage 1 mile uphill to our new Airbnb (with the terrace), settling in there, BOOM, San Mateo. Was that a grammatically correct sentence? Not worth checking. Thoughts flying. Moving on.
I may be constantly fatigued and somewhat sick (or was it just all of the screaming on Saturday??), but still, I am so happy. This town, these people, their little quirks and traditions. It is so easy to fall in love + continue falling in love with everything about this place. I find myself muttering, how did we get so lucky? And mutters of agreement from those surrounding me sing right back.
I’ve been trying to pierce exactly what’s causing my heart to soar at random points throughout the day (it’s almost like sudden panic attacks, but…sudden heart bursts?), besides the one very specific view of the River Ebro from above that one traffic circle with all of the motorcycles that you have to cross when you’re walking toward the Park from one certain street in Casco Antiguo (it is more than lovely).
Some of the ingredients to this mysterious heart-soar recipe are as follows:
The tai chi in the Park I see at 8:30 AM. Also, neon running outfits being a thing. Everyone wears lots of neutrals on the street, but activewear here is like LET ME SHOW YOU BLINDING COLOR
The kindness of my landlords Jesús and Lucía, who told us they are our Spanish tíos
The teachers serving me birthday tortilla & garnacha in the break room during recess while showing me need-to-know San Mateo songs & dances
The invitation to coffee with the profes while I was still sipping aforementioned garnacha (accepted) (how did we accomplish both eating activities in 30 minutes?)
A child tearing up when she did not earn a star sticker for raising her hand to try to identify Oklahoma on a map (I proceeded to give her and entire 1st grade class star stickers to avoid meltdown)
Already understanding that the Cathedral’s two spires will guide me right home
Lunch costing me 3€ or under
Entire families out strolling at 23:00 & later (also: finally learning military time)
Successfully having 100+ Spanish students yell “Go Irish!!!” in unison during my introduction presentations
Fulbright birthday parties (everyone was born in September and April?!)
Gelato being a very popular pastime
The lack of people working on laptops in cafes or checking their watches, ever. Just not a thing. Or, that’s what I am gathering.
I’ll keep recording more nuances/ingredients as they’re identified. But I think the heart-soar is also coming from the way we are learning about how we should deal with our baggage.
I’ll speak just for myself here, but I suppose this might ring true for others in my group. I was proud to tell friends and family that I was only bringing one large suitcase, one carry-on rolling suitcase, and a backpack abroad. Then I was upset and embarrassed to ultimately check another (2nd) large suitcase because I simply wasn’t going to be able to change my lifestyle habits & become a minimalist that week while also holding on to my love of jeans and thick sweaters. This created some self-loathing and tension between myself and myself about being “that girl” with all of the baggage. Bam, diving right into others’ opinions of me before I meet a single one of them! Bam, dipping my toes into worry about every minute detail of travel logistics, language incompetence, cultural adjustment, socializing, finding a routine, wondering if I myself will prevent myself from becoming more laid back this year; the list goes on. I pride myself on being excellent at rolling with the big punches. But, strangely, my resilience tends to plummet with the little punches, like an extra suitcase, a lost photo, or loud chewers. Those are the kinds of thing that really get me.
It seemed that self-awareness spiraled into doubt and worry in the few days before I left. And this sort of baggage weighs much, much more than one extra suitcase. It is heavy and exhausting to lug around negative opinions of yourself and your capabilities. This sort of baggage has no roller wheels, so it has to be carried on your shoulders. It’s bulky and awkward and metal. I didn’t want to bring it. And I surely didn’t want to pay for it.
I credit the people here in Spain, though, for teaching me rapidly how to let that baggage go. Sure, maybe I brought it with me, but I didn’t have to keep it. In just over a week I have seen that, just as quickly as you fill that sort of bag, you can empty it out into the street with a laugh. You can say no pasa nada, how they do, and send the random text to grab dinner with a new trio of friends. You can send an email to the language school to take those language gaps head on. You can straight up tell people que “Necesito practicar mi español, ¡porfa!” and watch them graciously switch back to slow and steady Spanish for you. You can siesta, or mentally book an entire afternoon to eat sunflower seeds with the shells on, or you can literally schedule an alarm to go off every day to remember to wander.
You can also, less metaphorically, realize that the entire extra suitcase you begrudgingly brought can be thrown away at the end of the year or simply sent home with Mom in the Spring (hello, Mom). You can understand that, just as no one seems to be staring at you more than anybody else in the street, thank goodness, no one really cares that you had to bring the extra suitcase. Life’s too short and full for that. (Also, an extra suitcase paired with many steps means more muscles. Right?) Once I got out of my own head a little and into those cobblestone streets, I realized just how easy it is to love all the little punches/mishaps and let my only baggage be my curious wonder at this place, for now. That sort of baggage weighs only as much as the Fanny pack you need for San Mateo.
¡Viva!!!!
P.S. Pardon any extreme grammatical mishaps. I wrote this on my phone in the sun on the terrace.
Sending Extreme Amounts of Love & Garnacha,
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