Chapter Twenty Nine: Smiles

Some things stay the same all around the world when communicating in another language. In my early years of studying Spanish, I found that adding sound effects such as imitating a race car brought about more vibrant and interesting conversations. Gestures too typically help get the point across like rubbing your stomach to emphasize hunger even though it can  sometimes be confused with the game of "pat your head and rub your tummy". My personal opinion, though, is that you can never go wrong with a pure and simple smile. 

It is clear when a smile is sincere and when it is not. And when you encounter a true sincere smile away from home and away from your known world, it is a moment to treasure for a lifetime. So this year moving away from my protected shield of Wisconsin and venturing into Spain has taught me to truly pay attention to the smiles that I have been granted with. These smiles have encouraged me and have made me hang on a little tighter for a little bit longer. 

As my time in Spain is drawing to an end and I become more and more aware of my departure, I would like to give thanks to some moments that I cherish and that I always will due to the smiles that I was given in moments that I needed them most. 

Take for example the first couple I met in Spain on the airplane and later in the Madrid bus station who offered me not only their phone number but their kindness and hospitality to meet for coffee several afternoons during my first week in the country. 


Or imagine me arriving to my town alone in the small bus station waiting to be picked up by a fellow teacher from my school. Worried and doubtful, I will never forget Silvia's voice from behind me as she asked if my name was Hannah. Her smile and confidence found a place in my dear heart as she became not just my mentor at the school but a close friend as well.


What about when I met my current roommate Guadalupe and we began our first "official" English class by sharing and practicing swearwords. It was quite the class on vocabulary and pronunciation, let me tell you. Take also for example when she invited me to her family's house and her nieces kept peeking around the corner to grin at the weird americana in the room. 


And what about my first few SKYPE chats with my family and friends back in the states? Or how about when I met up with my other American girlfriends in Europe for the first time and only realize together that we had all truly made it back to Europe for a second time? Or the man in the German airport reassuring me that I was going in the right direction on the metro and then to tell me all about German culture of Christmas? And I cannot ever forget the smile of relief as Christina saw me get off the train to spend Christmas with her. Nor can I forget the joy and determination on the girls' faces with whom I walked the Camino de Santiago with as I arrived to the city and they were sprawled on the benches with their sleeping bags after a night bus. How could I ever forget conversing first with the Austrians in English and then in Spanish with the Spaniards over good food and wine along the Camino? 

The answer is: I cannot forget. Nor will I ever forget. These moments are painted forever in my memory. The bright and cheerful smiles have brought me far and all I need to do is choose one of them to re-energize my spirit and body. And although this is my last week in my school and there will be fewer smiles and more tears as the hard truth sets in as I leave, I will never forget the times spent here in this warm and friendly country. A smile is after all a treasure. And a treasure is never to be forgotten.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Good Story

Who doesn't like a good story from time to time? As children or as adults, we all love to occasionally sit around the campfire to listen to old tales from the past. Such was so when yesterday I took a field trip with my first graders to listen to a northern Spanish legend about El hombre pez, or rather yet, The Fish Man. 

The local legend from the town of Lierganes tells of a young man from the north who had rough scaly skin similar to that of a fish and found comfort while swimming. However, he disappeared one night after swimming to later be found five years later by fishermen in the southern seas of the country. Brought back to his home town, the young man barely spoke and sometimes went days without eating. He eventually disappeared yet again but never was found after. Thus it left the town of Lierganes a legend to be continued on through the centuries over meals, campfires even perhaps, or in a small museum filled with thirty some students. 
 
The mystery of where the man went and how and why he disappeared captured the students' attention as well as mine. What could have happened? Stories that end with a cliff hanger like that always leave me hanging on the thought of what happened next. Did he really live in the sea for the rest of his life? No one, I suppose, will ever truly know. 

The fact stands still though that I am a bit bothered of not knowing for certain of the ending. But then again, when looking at my own life story, I suppose I never have a true ending either. Even with my time running up in Spain, it has been a good story so far. Like the fish man whose story appeared to end with jumping back into the sea, neither will my story end with me crossing the sea back home. Because good stories appear to end just when they are about to begin. I suppose the fish man and I have something in common. We're both in search of a new life. New adventures. New beginnings. But we are not in search of endings.

 

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Spring is Here

It seems to me that most cultures have a saying around this time of year that expresses the rain. (In Spanish, "Por abril, aguas mil.") Since April is well-know for rain, it doesn't surprise me in the least that the past couple of weeks have had nothing but "showers" and "heavy rains" and "strong winds" in the forecast. Having taken in many hits from Mother Nature over the weeks, I decided to take the opportunity to explore this past weekend what is typically southern "sunny" Spain and to also visit Madrid for a day.

I set off last weekend first for Merida to see the old roman ruins. The ruins had been weathered down by both wind and of course rain. So as an after thought, it should not have surprised me further yet that the rain would follow me to the south for that weekend as well. However, southern rains versus northern rains, I have noticed to be quite different. In the north, the rain never ceases to stop not for a second. And if it does, you still need to be on your toes and be ready to grab your umbrella when the clouds open up again. Because the clouds always do. In the south, though, I arrived to rainy weather and assumed the whole day would be ruined. But it wasn't. It would rain, stop, and the sun would come out to warm everything up. I would have a good hour and two in between rain showers in order to see the sights and stretch my legs. In those moments of sun in between showers, I had my first taste of spring. Wet grass, dripping leaves, warm earth, and my personal favorite, the fragrant flowers. Whether I was exploring the tops of the roman fortresses in Merida or strolling in the Parque del Retiro of Madrid, I never wanted to stop breathing in everything around me. Grass. Leaves. Earth. But most especially the flowers.
 
Although the season gives me allergies and although the season tempts me with the end of the school year, spring has always been and always will be my favorite season.