Before I get into the meat of this blog post, here are a few life updates:
- I attended my first ¡Extran Hero! event! This particular event was described by its founder, Mike Young (former Fulbrighter), as a "a creative fundraising initiative to support the victims and families affected by Hurricane Sandy." You can read about the event (and see pictures!) here. I would also highly recommended checking out Mike's blog, ¡Extran Hero!. It's a very clever blog of comics that he uses to recount his adventures in Spain.
- Today was a Huelga General, which meant that "everyone" in the country was going on strike. After a big hype, I ended up still going to school for all but one of my classes (unfortunately, it wasn't the 8:20 class... fortunately, it was my last class), though my classes had shrunk from 30 students to 10 or fewer. In addition, conversation today with my teachers and roommate taught me a few things:
- Few think that shutting the city down for a day will help much. Many didn't participate in the strike.
- What you see on TV only consists of the most dramatic events. (Yes, I should have known this earlier...). Though I was nervous to head out of my apartment for fear of cars/trash bins being lit on fire like I saw on TV when the Huelga General occurred during study abroad, life continued on as normal. I didn't even notice any businesses closed in my neighborhood. Apparently most businesses stay open and close only if the strikers come and chant outside. Once the strikers leave, however, they reopen.
- The fact that my phone wasn't working had nothing to do with the Huelga. This was discovered after six 14 year-old boys examined it for 10 minutes at the beginning of history class.
- The Newsies makes a wonderful sound track to strike days. "And world will know!"
- This past weekend was my first truly relaxing, normal weekend. I graded papers (ohhhh, so many papers... and a lesson on plagiarism is definitely in order...) at a café, made a trip to Ikea (yes, again...) with Napala for a few odds and ends, baked pumpkin bread, drank tea and ate tea cookies, went to Bikhram (the Spanish was an interesting twist), and made up a dance class from the previous holiday weekend. Genial.
My attempt at fried cod. Quite scrumptious if I say so myself.
Pumpkin bread with walnuts and chips of left-over Swiss chocolate, topped with cream cheese frosting. Can you believe that this sat on my kitchen counter for 3 days (with a note saying it was to share) without a single roommate venturing into this deliciousness?
Napala's and my first adventure into the tea cookies from the pastelería between us.
Alright, now onto the main topic of this blog post.
Even in a city as big as Madrid (which, if... I mean when... you come visit me, you will realize is actually a quite manageable size), it is easy to feel at home. But why does grocery shopping feel like so welcoming? How does a visit to the bank remind me of a coffee date with an old friend? Easy... these places all have people. And they know me. So this afternoon, I would like to take some time to recognize the people whose smiles make me feel like I belong in Madrid.
Jorge. I went to update my bank account with my NIE number on Monday and I was greated by Jorge, the same banker who opened my account, went out of his way to help me get my ATM card a few days later, and helped me take out the money for my fianza and first month's rent. As I approached his desk, he promptly asked me how classes were going, remembering exactly what school I was teaching at. Since I had not seen Jorge in almost two months, I was quite impressed. Quality customer service, La Caixa.
Photocopy man. Always wanting to practice his English numbers and wish me a good day, he makes photocopies less of a chore. Also, I am beyond thankful that he has never complained that I bring in documents that I need photocopies for the next period.
Bread man. He knows that I'll come in on Monday evenings to buy cookies or some other baked good for my house church. He always greats me with a smile and even let me try the typical baked good of this time of year for free the other day. Wahoo!
Cheese girl. She is gradually learning that giving me half of what is left will not work. When I remind her that it is only for me, she is much more reasonable with the amount of cheese she expects me to ingest. Plus, this past week I even got some recipe suggestions for the pate that I bought. Parfait! (Perfect in French... I've got that one down.)
Dancers. As I explained in one of my last study abroad blog posts, every dance class is an odd sort of family. You spend so much time seeing each others' successes and failures that you can't help but feel some sort of solidarity. I still only know a few names, but the smiles and nods of approval are enough to make me feel like I belong.
Pablo. Even in a big city, you run into your students outside of school. So was the instance with Pablo, one of my students who I turned into after buying my Airport supplement at the Metro machine. The whole time I was overwhelmed with the odd sensation that I was being stared at, which made me realize: change cities, change countries; it doesn't matter... the students are still astounded when they realize that you don't live at school.
House church. I believe Ephesians 2:19-22 says it all.
"Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow
citizens with God's people and members of God's household, built on
the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself
as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined
together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him
you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives
by his Spirit." (Emphasis mine.)
"What is the city but the people?"
- William Shakeskpeare
Much love to all of the people in the other cities that feel like home,
Amber
