Chapter Three: Strength

The Midwest: my home; my family. There is something to say about this area in the United States. Growing up in this region, I never felt like I could never do something because of my gender. Never was I told, "Hannah, don't do that. That's not for girls." Rather, I grew up with farm sets dreaming of becoming a cowgirl and having my own ranch. I wore my cowgirl boots everyday no matter what outfit I had on. My dreams were set and coming from a stubborn Scottish family, there was little that could change my mind about anything.

I obviously did not become a cowgirl. Society did have an effect on me after all. It taught me that sometimes you need to be reasonable and sensible about life. So instead of building a home on the range, I decided to broaden my horizons even more by studying another language and seeing the world. Both times that I have now been to Spain, I am ever more impressed with the land and more especially with the people. The first time, I could not get over the pride the people have for their homeland. Today, as I mingle through everything that has happened these past four weeks in this country, it is now the strength that these women have in northern Spain that impresses me.

The North. If you have only visited Madrid or the southern region of Andalusia where the "well-famous" beaches lie, well, forgive my frankness, but you have not experienced nor lived this culture. In fact, you would not have even tasted it. If you want to understand the strength the people have here, especially the women, you need to go to the north. It is here where the rains come and stay for much of the year. It is here where the mountainous terrain lies. It is here where character is built and strength resides.

Coming from an encouraging family and region, I thought myself a confident young woman when arriving to this region. After all, how many girls grow up wearing cowgirl boots every single day and dream of cleaning up horse manure for a career? Thinking that my region made me strong, I indeed do sometimes find myself shy in front of these women here. Their directness with topics. Their eagerness for life. Their openness for friendships. Their strength for each day. It awes and inspires me constantly. Even more so when you set out for a three-hour hike in the mountains with these women and wind up staying out for seven hours instead.

My God, what a day. I tell you again. What a day. After reaching the summit and beginning our descent, the women I went hiking with decided to take another route down. That's all fine and well except when taking that path, I did not realize at the time that we would be spiraling back down. Spiraling down the mountainside is very deceiving. Very. Deceiving. After the first hour, I could not understand why we were not making any ground. I kept thinking, "But my God, when are we going to get back?"

You may be thinking, no biggie, seven hours walking, that's not too bad. Well, maybe you forgot where I am from. THE MIDWEST. We do not have mountains in the Midwest. We have "hills" in case you forgot. I typically don't walk up, down, up, down each day back home in Wisconsin. So by the end when my socks and sneakers were soaked with sweat, my legs full of lactic acid, and my head screaming for a pillow, I admit that I lied a little when the lady next to me asked if I was tired. "Oh, just a little. I'm sure I'll sleep well tonight nonetheless," I told her innocently. While in the meantime every muscle and bone in my body ached and pleaded to be laid down on my bed.

Was it foolish to lie like that? Probably. In fact, most definitely. But it is this strength of theirs that inspires me so. Not just their physical strength but their mental and spiritual strength as well. So even though I am thousands of miles away from my Midwestern home, family, and strength that I once grew up with, I am now that much closer to a strength that perhaps I have always searched for and have now found within these people.

Chapter Two: Similarities not Differences

Cell phone, check. Lodging, check. Bank account, check. Now what? After orientation in the capital of this northern region on Tuesday, we were all told that due to an overload of administrative work we would not start our classes until Monday. Originally we were to start this past Wednesday. But as the saying here goes, no pasa nada. Pretty much, no big deal.

So instead of designing lesson plans this week, I have settled other matters such as starting my lengthy process to get a foreign identity number (NIE, as known in Spanish). I have also begun private English lessons. So far I am working with a teenage boy who was absolutely amazed when I showed him pictures of the Great Lakes. He was like, espera, (wait), hay playas en Wisconsin? (there are beaches in Wisconsin?) You have to understand that from their point of view here in Spain, the only "playas" are found on the coast and never inland like they can be in the U.S.A. I have also been working with a lady who teaches what we would call "high school" level science such as biology. Her level of English is amazing and what she truly wants is to practice conversation and improve her vocabulary in the subject area of science. Spain has several exploratory bilingual programs for the primary levels (which is what I will be doing). However, they are also enforcing the idea to teach the language in other subject areas for a few hours each week such as in mathematics, science, physical education, you name it. The hard part about it is that this lady has spent years teaching the subject in the native language and not the target language of English. So that is where I come in. Outside of class, we talk for an hour, though it seems to fly by so quickly. We both have a passion for teaching and it shows when we find ourselves talking about the philosophy of teaching second languages.

This, however, has only taken up part of my time here in Castro Urdiales. The other part has been what I would like to call "Carpe diem." Enjoy the moment. Live life to the fullest. I refuse to carry a map in this town. It is, after all, my town now. Carrying a map would just be senseless. So I have been learning as I go. Wandering through the streets. Running along the pier. Lounging in the park. But most importantly, enjoying a drink at the end of the day with the other Spaniards I have met here. I know it sounds weird. And trust me, our typical schedule in the U.S. sounds even weirder to them. But these people literally know what it means to interact with one another. And they use every last moment in their day to do so. They always meet up towards 9:00 at their bar and talk until 10 or 10:30. Afterwards, each individual takes off towards home for dinner. That's right. They would not have eaten dinner yet. That's for latter. Again, they need to use every last second to talk to one another.

But even with these differences, there are so many similarities. Just yesterday I went to a salon with some other girls (no, I did not get my nails done.) But we all sat there talking. Talking about what? Everything and anything. If you are not a girl and you are reading this, I apologize for your lack of understanding. You see, women have the tendency to talk and talk and then talk some more. Then driving back from the salon, we sang to American music. Walking on Sunshine. Dancing Queen. Miss American Pie. Being the only Yankee in the car (by the way, that has sort of become some sort of title for me here) I could not help but see the whole situation at first as being a little silly. But then again, I had to realize that this would be exactly what I'd be doing in the states right now. Singing off beat and enjoying the company of those around me.

So even though people may look at this country and disagree with its way of life, I am embracing it. Even with the differences, the similarity of connecting between people and forming friendships will always stay the same wherever you go. This, too, includes sitting in the backseat of a car trying to translate the entire song of Miss American Pie. A much harder task than you would think.