Just Got Back from the Pillowcase Store

Hello! I realize that it's been a few weeks since my last post. I called my grandparents for a good long chat this week, and my grandfather mentioned he wasn't getting post notifications for my blog. He asked me to help him re-subscribe to the blog or confirm that he was subscribed. *Gulp, small chuckle.* "Well, you're definitely subscribed... I just haven't sat down for more than a few minutes for any projects other than planning how to teach seven-year-olds the pronunciation of feelings vocabulary and finding the most direct route to get myself home from private tutoring sessions before the sun runs out of battery (...and hitting San Sebastián for a weekend, but shhh). That is the truth.

Calle Portales, late afternoon: pillowcase store is the red La Roja sign. Cathedral is straight ahead.

But I have lots and lots of thoughts scribbled down in a Reminders list, and some fresh names and numbers, and, at long last, a change or two of pillowcases. So, look, here I am!

The biggest update since my last post, I suppose, is that we've moved into our permanent (relatively speaking, of course, since we'll only be here until the end of June) apartment. I absolutely love it. It lacks an oven, a dishwasher, and a dryer, but we are absolutely making do. Light furnishes nearly every corner of its white walls. The tiles in my bedroom are from the 1910s. Jesús and Lucia, our landlords, told us that the vast majority of everything inside has been salvaged from the street and re-imagined (see: the old grandfather clock painted school bus yellow to match the futon that's now being used as storage). In Cheryl's room hang three decorative plates with cat portraits. The futon pillows are woven dog portraits in the same style as the cat plates. We have exposed beams, Edison bulbs, and a full-length mirror (shoutout to the girls who requested that one for checking their outfits before heading out...¡muchas gracias!) It's fantastic.

Besides the whimsical interior, we're situated just ten seconds from the co-cathedral, the Concatedral de Santa Maria de la Redonda. This means we hear bells a few times an hour, and choir practice certain evenings, plus the teenagers who bustle around in the plaza (basically, the cathedral's front yard) weekend nights for a few hours before they finally waltz on into the discos around 1-2AM. My walk home takes me down at least a bit of Calle Portales, a main touristy street that takes you right by the Cathedral. It's lined with cafés, heladerías, boutiques and quite a few tourists. It's fantastic.

Coming off of my second full week of school and finally settling into our place, I've been trying to reflect on adjustment and adaptation, but I can't stop thinking instead about the quirks of Spain. I mentioned this before, but sunflower seeds are everywhere! Yesterday, I passed llaollao on Calle Portales (the fro-yo place) and saw an entire group eating fro-yo topped with Nutella or caramel and sunflower seeds with the shells on! I actually laughed out loud at how strange this seemed. A few days before, I'd seen multiple couples strolling down the street sharing a bag of sunflower seeds between them. The man was collecting all of their shells in his left hand. That, my friends, is true romance.

Sunset turning onto C/ Bretón

But, another one: specialty stores. Yesterday, Emily and Cheryl and I took a trip to the mall (which is actually quite nice) for some household goods. I found some things at a department store, like basic sheets, but ended up going to a separate store that pretty much exclusively sells nicer towel sets, matching sheet sets, and pillowcases afterwards because they had cases for body pillows, which is what my bed came with. The lady there was very pleasant and patient in helping me help her understand just how long of a pillow my bed actually has. On my way back, I also stumbled upon a shop that sells all of the extravagant organic and all-natural food/beauty/household products you'd find in Whole Foods or Sprouts anywhere in the U.S., and almost cried of joy, because the supermarkets here do not carry any of them (i.e.: almond butter and non-sketchy multivitamins). Today, I've got to find an ironing board, so I need to go to the ironing board store. And, I snapped my watch strap yesterday, so I also need to find a specific specialty store that sells Apple Watch products. Again, laughing.

The pillowcase store

Okay, I'm exaggerating just a bit on some of those, but I think the quirk thing is hilarious. And maybe that laugh is okay. Maybe it's one small slice of the process of adjustment? Friends, this experience is indeed fantastic, but it's also far less glamorous in the crevice between every single letter in that word. Getting back from a weekend in San Sebastián and planning all of my lessons on a Sunday evening to go to bed at 2AM before a long Monday ahead was stressful. Watching my friends have vastly different experiences depending on their school schedules is an empath's emotional rollercoaster. We are walking miles and miles daily in bright sun to extra classes so we can have some money for things besides the essentials, with flat shoes that are already worn out. Sometimes we've forgotten about lunch and, believe me, felt the consequences later when we're still two miles from home. I am still figuring out unspoken expectations and how best to communicate with each teacher. I want to remember all of the things I have learned through school and TESOL courses, any many days I end up with ten long notes to myself about how I could have improved lesson X, Y, Z. I already have struggled to stay in touch with friends who have long work hours and busy social lives on top of the seven hour time difference without feeling as if I am coming across as annoyingly regimented about scheduling times to talk.

But still I am truly feeling grounded and, yes, contenta aquí, as many ask me when we first meet. I may still be tweaking that heart-happy recipe, but I have figured out my formula for steadiness in change. It's just three pieces: (1) connection, (2) knowing and laughing at the process, and (3) faith.

• Connection: It's me apunto (Count me in!) and joining clubs I might never have joined in the U.S...Beer Runners meets on Wednesday evenings for a good run, a little language exchange, and then a pilgrimage to a bar to rehydrate with, you know, beers. Riojababel is an intercambio group of young people doing all sorts of things in Logroño that rents out a bar Thursdays and Fridays for a multi-language exchange before absolutely raging until 6:00AM+ (one can tap out whenever they please. I am not built for nights that long). Grabbing coffees and talking walks together just because sometimes adding even more buttery croissant layers of change into your day-to-day makes the other parts feel...normal.

Beer Runners post-run eats

• Knowing and laughing: Because any long-term change is a process. A bobbing one. It can be miserable if you take it + yourself too seriously. For example, if I walk into 2nd grade and the kids are running in ballistic circles around the room and I utterly fail to get them in line for most of the lesson, well, I laugh over my sugary coffee machine coffee, decide I will poll some other teachers, and admit that I have nine months to figure it out.

• Faith: Because despite point #1, "Connection," seeking out familiarity and building consistency in certain areas of my life is also very healthy. Surely it has not been effortless and convenient to schedule these past weekends around finding a Mass time I can get to, but I cannot describe to you the incredible feeling of walking into a nave and knowing exactly what is going to happen for the next hour. To be silenced and called to keep myself in line when, in certain moments, all of the strange new things sound like a screeching subway rattling closer and closer into my eardrums. Even so, it's not about myself feeling comforted. This is the first time in my life I have understood how faith is not something I can brute force. It is merely a gift. Man, am I undeserving, but guau, am I thankful.

So, after considering those three cards I've just dealt you, I've decided I do hope to formally make this blog into my side project. I am still solidifying details, but you can expect this to mean that on top of these sporadic here-are-all-my-thoughts-dumped-onto-the-keyboard posts, you will see posts specifically dedicated to visits to historic places of faith in Logroño or other Spanish cities, framed by the recounting of my experience enjoying a typical food and a conversation with a local who can tell me all about said food + place of faith. Alimentos para el alma. Something so very small, but still so very important to me, and hopefully to some of you out there, too. As some know, that was the original name of this blog. So, look, there you have it again: sometimes we know ourselves far better than we let ourselves believe.

Here's to this thing we've already begun & to all of its growth to come.

Sending a WhatsApp heart reaction emoji from Logroño,

Ellie

Homemade worksheet for 1st grade (they don’t write or read yet)