It’s like that song Big Yellow Taxi by Counting Crows with the famous lyrics “Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.” Sometimes you really do not realize what you have in life until it is taken away from you.
This has just happened to me with my experience in Madrid. “Semana Santa,” or holy week, ends today as Easter culminates a ten-day holiday in Spain. During this time I spent a few days in the United Kingdom, Madrid, and Rome, all with family that was my first time away from my new home since arriving to Spain at the end of January.
As my last post indicates, my life immediately prior to Semana Santa was not anything to be excited about. I had been hospitalized with tonsillitis and placed on absolute bed-rest for more than a week; this was certainly not part of my plan for studying abroad in Madrid. Days started to blend together as I sat around watching television or doing homework while knowing that my friends were out in the city experiencing all that Madrid had to offer. Needless to say, when the day for my flight to the United Kingdom finally arrived I was very ready for a break from Madrid.
Four days later, very much refreshed and rejuvenated, my parents and I boarded a flight back to Madrid so I could show them my new stomping grounds before heading off to Rome for Easter weekend. It was during this short return trip to Madrid that I realized how much I had already fallen in love with the city I currently call home.
My family and I stayed in a hotel in the Puerta del Sol, the busiest center of Madrid for tourists. During our short visit I took my family to as many big-name sites as I could think of. We toured the Palacio Real (Spain’s royal palace), ate lunch at Botin (the oldest restaurant in the world), and we meandered and shopped our way through the Plaza Mayor and the Plaza de España (two giant plazas in the center of Madrid). We did not visit the Prado museum; my family and I lack an appreciation for art that we probably should have developed, but this gave us more time to visit little shops and boutiques while stopping for various plates of paella (a traditional Spanish dish that has rice mixed with vegetables, chicken, and seafood) and chocolate y churros (a plate of pastries that get dipped into a thick form of hot chocolate) along the way.
Reacquainting myself with the famous sights and sounds (and tastes!) of Madrid was certainly fantastic, but what really made me feel at home were all of the little things I had already come to take for granted during the semester. To start, I feel like my communication skills were heightened just by removing myself from being engrossed in the Spanish language for just a few short days. During the return I felt the Spanish language and mannerisms flowing out of me with ease, and, for the first time, I could actually feel myself struggling having to switch into English to talk to my family. I finally felt that talking with Spaniards was coming naturally rather than being obviously strained and forced.
Furthermore, the night of the Spain vs. France World Cup Qualifier soccer match I stayed down in the hotel restaurant without my family trying to complete some homework while watching the game. This, obviously, turned into only watching the game and no actual work, but it was a great experience. All of the strangers compiled in that restaurant for those ninety minutes began to act as one: screaming and yelling at the referees and the French players while cheering and high-fiving when Spain went up one to zero and eventually went on to win the match. I was totally immersed in the experience, as there is nothing like a soccer match in Europe that can create communities and enemies out of complete strangers. I was yelling “falta” (Spanish for foul) at the television along with the others and went crazy when the official did not award a penalty kick for Spain when a Spanish player was tackled in the French penalty area. That evening I felt, at least a little bit, like a Madrileño and remembered why I first fell in love with the Spanish people and their culture.
Finally, when I went back to my host family’s house to switch out my suitcase, even though I was there for less than thirty minutes, I really felt like a member of the family. My youngest host brother, Dario, was enthralled with my new, European-style haircut, and my host father, Pablo, talked with me in the kitchen about my family and our travels. As I was leaving to go back to the hotel he gave me a pat on the back and wished me safe travels and a good holiday with my family. It may seem really trivial, but I do not remember a pat on the back that meant so much to me. It was our first interaction like this, and signaled to me that I had earned my keep in the house and was a welcome member of the family (bringing home chocolates from my travel probably never hurts this situation). It was one of those moments I will carry with me forever after heading back to the States.
As I’m writing this very nostalgic post I’m only getting more and more excited for my return to Madrid. I’m finally healthy again, and with more than half of the semester still to go, I’m ready to take on the city from the true perspective of a Madrileño. I cannot wait to see what memories I am able to make over the remaining months of my travels!
