Always Gold to Me.

I try really hard to do everything the parents ask me to do with their children. But when it is just the kids and I for a time, I sometimes go behind their backs and let them pick out any outfit they want to. I quickly become the girl of the hour. Wednesday I had them to myself almost the entire day. Before we went out to the carnival I let them choose their outfits. After all, this was probably the last time I would be able to do so. M of course chose her Athletic jersey. L was in red head to toe, even put her red checkered shorts on underneath the skirt. J was giving her tips throughout the choosing process as he smartly put on his best matching shorts, shoes and cardigan. Were they a little goofy looking? Maybe. Would their parents be dissatisfied with it? Most likely. Was I proud to go out with them as if they were mine? Absolutely. They looked wonderful to me and always would.

My 'Holiday in Spain' Recap.

Moving across the world with 200dollars to my name was probably not the smartest thing for a 20year old girl to do. But I did it. I did it without knowing the people I would spend the next 5 months with. I did it without knowing more than a basic college level Spanish. I did it anticipating eating tacos and rice. I did it thinking I would be surround by people dressed in white and red who liked to play the guitar, dance, and run from bulls.

The first morning in Spain I woke up, jet lagged, to children running around on a creaky wood floor and the bright April sub shining harshly through my un-shaded window. I felt like crying. It was an otherworldly feeling. As if this must be a dream. Questioning in my head over and over again why I thought this was a good idea. Thinking to myself there is no way I can make it through these next 5 months.

1 month later there was no question as to whether or not my life as real. I had made some friends in the church. I had gotten used to the schedule of things. I had used the 200 dollars I had on film and lenses. I realized that caring for children is really, really hard. I was humbled. So humbled. For one, I was treated like the dirt of the earth by these children for the most part. 2, I was so separated no matter how hard I tried from everyone around me because of this language barrier. I was enjoying the experience though one day at a time, and happy about it.

2 months in and I am keeping up a good blog with my funny experiences with these children. They still drive me crazy, but we have good moments. My life is like a sitcom. I have made friends outside of church who speak English and have traveled with them. I relate my life to that of Hemingway in The Sun Also Rises. The life of going to bars, drinking slow, talking, really talking. And spending the rest of the night bar hopping, drinking and enjoying the company of others.

3 months later I finally feel good. The kids and I are close, are comfortable. I realize that I love them, woah, I really do. I laugh and have fun with the parents too. I feel good with the language, enough to have a conversation with someone. I am saying goodbye to these friends I naively hope I’ll see again. It’s an odd feeling, being such good friend with someone for such a short time, each knowing it’s not bound to last. I take my first big trip and experience a lot. I get to fiesta. I have my first day of being a little “homesick”. I realize that I really am getting fatter.

I’m at month 4. Getting comfortable-again to a new town and people. Beach bums and English class. Dietas and daily walks to the lighthouse. I have planned 3 trips: Sevilla, Dusseldorf, and Rome. I’m now at the point where my dreams are haunted by visions of home. Some good, some not good at all. In the beginning I would randomly get hit by the realization that this is my new life, and it’s almost unreal that I’m here. Those thoughts eventually went away. Now they have returned but with a different take. All that I’ve experienced…it’s unreal. It’s unreal that in 4 ½ weeks I will be home and thrown into the college life with people who most likely won’t care where I’ve been and what I’ve done. It’s unreal that I am feeling anxious, so anxious about it all. I have fiesta’d a lot. I have seen a lot. I have had great conversations with people I will never, ever see again. I need to leave here with no regrets, with makes me even more anxious. But I need to take it one day at a time. Enjoy each one. Make people happy, serve them. Be happy. Make a difference. Know, Conocer, this place, the people, the family. Take pictures, Do it all.

3 weeks left. I have lots of goals and plans, ways to make sure I have no regrets when I leave. I have to make the most of it. I still have moments where I swear this has all been a dream. I’m terrified of waking up. It’s surreal that it happened, is happening, and in just 3 weeks I’ll be doing the same thing I have for 3 years, in the same place, with many of the same people as if it never happened. It's true, tengo ganas para estar en mi país, but just as well it makes me anxious and I can’t believe it’s almost over. I know I’ll wish I was back real soon after arriving. I know these will go by soon because of my travels (Bilbao fiestas, Germany, Rome), which heightens my anxiety. But mom told me it’s all in my mind, and can control that anxiety, stress or whatever. And it’s true. I really want to make the very most out of the rest of my time here. I’m grateful for it. I will miss everything about it. The kids…oh man… Here it goes…

2 Weeks left. I am very very happy. Happy with how far I've come, what I've experienced, the progress I've made, what awaits me back home. My heart is what some people call, very full. Midnight I am sitting on the edge of the world thinking... What an odd thing to do, to let a random girl into your home and take care of your children, sleep in your house, eat your food, and be with you all the time. And what a strange thing for a 21 year old girl to do. Travel across the world and live with people you have never met, can hardly communicate with, agree to be part of their family through thick and thin. We are strange people. What an experience. I can’t believe its almost over. I was very sad. Yes I want to go home, yes I want to see my friends, family. I want to do things I haven’t done, eat things I haven’t eaten, watch movies I’ve missed in these last 5 months. But knowing that I might not ever see this place, these people, or experience anything like this again is a really hard feeling. Whoa…2 weeks.

The journey back home. I have 3 breakdowns today. #1, I finally take a breath and sit down in my seat on the plane leaving Bilbao. I just about missed that flight. I look out the window as we are taking off and see the beautiful misty rolling hills I've called home these last 5 months. I can't bear thinking I might not see this again. #2 Rushing in the Charles de Gaulle airport from my arrival place to the departure. I have my passport and ticket checked. I step onto the plane and hear a thick southern accent, "hello!". As I walk down the isle to seat 36B I hear nothing but English and top 40 radio songs. It really hits me. This is it. I drop my stuff off at my seat and walk briskly to the airplane Bathroom. I switch the door to occupied and burst out in hard tears. #3 Whilst watching the 2nd movie on my 9 hour flight a little boy says to his future-self "I guess you never know if the last time you see sometime will be the last time you ever see them." Oh brooottthhher. Nobody look at me. 

Being back. I think the strangest thing of all is not that my home and things in it surprise me, as they are much different from Spain, but the fact that everything is so... normal. Nothing has changed here. It is as if I never left. And that is the scariest thought of all. I am happy to be back. But there are parts of me that are all unsettled still. I am changed. And I'm happy that Spain could be the one to do it.

That Awful Goodbye.

Last night was my last night with the family. We had a little fiesta at the house with the kids, made American cookies, got out the balloon table cover, blew up some balloons, put on some 'Suavemente'. Then for "la ulutima cena" the parents thought it would be a good idea to eat American food. So we went to the McDonald's in the mall. (of course) Got a bunch of dollar menu things for the kids. They hated it. Except M. It was hilarious. Hilarious! The kids hated McDonald's. Oh what a great last night.

This morning I watched TV with the kids on the pullout bed. I made tortilla de patata with Joseba. He taught me. Then we made natilla. Then played with the kids, made videos, took pictures. Then we went downstairs to meet Joseba with the fruganeta /multivan. Took a couple pictures. Gave kisses to each of the kids and iciar and joseba a big hug and kisses. As they were getting in the van I couldn't help it and I started crying. I never cry. Last time I cried really hard was days before I bought my ticket to Spain 8 months ago. And when you cry you can't just cry a little. It's either a little glisten to your eyes or crying. And I was crying. Embarrassed. Iciar was too. I got in and gave the kids each big hugs as tears were running down my face. They looked confused, they were worried. Leire told me I have tears. They were good hugs. I told them I was happy. And thanks all of them. The parents were trying to hurry so they wouldn't start crying. It was all a blur. The kind of thing where you aren't thinking, just feeling and doing. I didn't know if i'd cry or not. But when I realized I might not ever see these 3 crazy, wild, horrible and wonderful children again, it just came out. How can 5 months go so quickly when it seems like just yesterday we got in that same van from the airport. Suddenly it didn't matter that people were seeing me cry (no one see's me cry). When I went in for those hugs they were worried and confused (never seen me cry before) but they knew it was serious. Joseba gave me another hug and said "te queremos mucho" As the door was shutting I could see the kids through the dark tinted windows waving at me unsuredly, but lovingly. I saw the silhouettes blowing me kisses, I did the same. I waited till the drove around the corner and immediately turned around and went straight to the house. The tears, the ugly tears kept coming. 

That's it. Just like that. A goodbye. I cried really hard from the creaky elevator back to J's room. As I sit down my mind is searching for some sort of comfort.

Now I'm sitting inside this empty house, the faint smell of tortilla with American cookies we made. The balloon birthday table cover still set. Balloons hiding behind the couch. A plate with the lunch they just made all ready for me in the kitchen, and my large overstuffed bags neatly stacked in my miniature room I've called home for the last 5 months. What an end. What an end to a most unbelievable 5 months. 

I still am terrified to wake up and this all be a dream.

 I am grateful for the kids and the love that I was able to gain for them. And let me tell you, It was gained. Slowly. Progressively. But that's the best and strongest kind of love, right? Love that is learned? I am grateful that as I leave them, leave this place, I feel nothing but joy and love for my time here. I have been so happy these last weeks. Not for going home (Although I had joy for it), but just for where I was in my life. I am so blessed. I hope and pray that I never forget them and this experience. I look forward to the day I see them again, my Spain family.

Family.

I just went out with Iciar and Joseba. A walk through the town. Got back at 12:15am. It was great. The kids are at their grandmas and so I was free and they invited me out. They referred to me as their oldest daughter. We walked and got ice-cream. Joseba told the guy 2 scoops for me while he got 1. He’s “supposed” to be helping me with my diet… Iciar met up with us and we walked to the plaza. Talked about the food I need to learn before I leave and the cookies and American meal I need to make. We get tp the plaza and there is a mini carnival that has been out there. I take some pics. Joseba takes me to the churreria where I admit I love them. Of course he offers them to me. Nooo. Pobre Erica, Iciar says. He’s trying to make me fat! Or he’s testing me in which I am definitely failing. But we decided we would get them tomorrow. (I had churros with them my 2^nd day here). We talked along the port and went to the club and sat on the deck. Beautiful. Nice Beatles cover songs playing. It was so nice just to be with them. I felt so comfortable. We looked at photos on the phone and talked about things. My family, theirs, the kids. It was all so…idk…. “family like.” And there I was sitting on the edge of the coast in beautiful weather looking out at hints of waves and clouds and recalling how far we’ve/I’ve come. Thinking how much I would miss them. As in icier and joseba, not just the kids. Thikning how they might fell-this experience for them. And how much they have done for me. I started getting emotional. In my head. Then I started thinking how strange it was that it was almost over. No way. It really is was an other-worldly feeling. Like surely this must all be a dream. Half thinking I might wake up right then and there. A part of me wanted to say what I was thinking. But I stopped myself. Not wanting to ruin the night with awkward Spanish explaining and possible tears. They have been very good to me. What an odd thing to do, to let a random girl into your home and take care of your children, sleep in your house, eat your food, and be with you all the time. And what a strange thing for a 21 year old girl to do. Travel across the world and live with people you have never met, can hardly communicate with, agree to be part of their family through thick and thin. We are strange people. What an experience. I can’t believe its almost over. I was very sad. Yes I want t go home, yes I want to see my friends, family. I want to do things I haven’t done, eat things I haven’t eaten, watch movies I’ve missed in these last 5 months. But knowing that I might not ever see this place, these people, or experience anything like this again is a really hard feeling

Nicknames and Things

THINGS:

“Aqui, no puedes adelgazar” (Here you can’t lose wait.) You said it grandma.  – Amuma Julita.

“Lo que no te mata, endordada.” – You’re right there Spain.

They call me dormilora. Cause when I have the chance to sleep, I do.

My nicknames: Eríca. Kika. Eri (Eddy). Culo gordo. Tetas gordas. Dormilora. Comidora. Wapa.

What they taught me in Spanish class: Adios!

What it really is. “Vale, venga, hasta luego, agur!”

….That could have made my word-count-conversations sooo much easier.

I don’t and will not ever understand why at 1-2 in the morning when I am bed trying to sleep, I have to put my earplugs in to drown out the sounds of the children loudly playing outside. Whaaaa??

The day when I decide to put my baby blanket it the basket for the maid to wash. And later in the day when Joseba is taking dry clothes off the rack I swipe it and he says, "that's yours?"....ohhhh que beruenza".

It’s been a surprisingly very humbling experience. You feel very very small when you realize how big the world is. But overall it’s been a crazy adventure.

Gathering Peas.

(3 weeks left, agh!)

 Whilst telling the kids a goodnight story I get to the end where the character Shakira, a hardworking farm girl, enters a music competition where she wins singing/dancing to Waka waka, and the kids of course where dancing all around and happy. Well Leire decides to jump on top of Jon who is lying down. They are both little but it was clear Jon was hurting, a think it took his breath away for a moment. He cries. So after talking him through some slow and steady breaths I get the frozen peas to make him feel better. The kids see those peas often, it comforts them I guess. So for the next 15 or so minutes Jon lies there with the peas on his ribs and I sing nighttime songs like Raindrops on roses. Well at some point Jon rolls over to look or talk to Maia and I hear something that resembles the sounds of falling marbles. Or maybe falling peas. Yes, somehow the bag opened up and the peas fell onto Maia's bed and through the cracks on the wood floor. The light was off but I knew what happened. I tell everyone to freeze and I turn on the light and see a giant pile of small green peas next to Maia. The kids look at it and break into laughter. It was a fairly easy clean up but when I looked through the crack and saw a whole other pile on the ground. Great. So the kids insist on going under and getting them. It's a tight fit and I don't want anything to get moldy under there so at 1220am I let them cogerlos. I hear laughter, head bonking, I see random peas flying out from under, and then about every 4 minutes one of them comes out to give me a handful of peas. I am lying on the bed as both the children and I are laughing out loud. One of those my life is a sitcom moments again, it's been a while. So many minutes  later I am on my hands and knees talking through things with the kids and trying to convince them that putting frozen peas in the pants was a bad idea, and then I hear the parents come in. They look at me strange and look even stranger when they come in and see 3 empty beds and hear muffled uncontrollable laughter. They get a kick out of the situation. Eventually all the peas (so far as I know) are out and the kids are finally in bed. It made me laugh a lot. I like these funny moments with the kids.

Sevilla and Coming Home.

SEVILLA WAS INCREDBILE! Everything I thought Spain was before I came here. (Yes I am inferring Bilbao/Leketio are hardly what I imagined, I’m very aware of my ignorance on the country before). The white with yellow lines houses, flat roofs. People playing the Spanish guitar everywhere, everyone using beautiful fans because it’s bloody hott. Men with dark hair, very often slicked back. Everything about the look, the people. I loved it. We saw Alcazar Palace; The Cathedral (3^rd largest in the world) – we climbed to the top; Parasol, “Mushrooms”; ate Paella; Saw a flamenco museum and show; ate sushi; Saw the Macarena – gorgeous!; A little bit of some roman ruins “italica”; and a Bull ring tour; and watched the Athletic vs Bêtes game where we almost won. We stayed at Audrey and Jimmy Wilkins gorgeous Spanish home. They were amazing hosts/tour guides. Fed us good food and took us out. Their kids are so cute and fun.   

Back from Sevilla: When the kids get home I hear from the doorway "erriiicaaa!!" It's L. She looks at me and runs into my arms for a big hug. Oh my gosh I want to cry. This hasn't happened since the 2nd day I got here.

Later in English class I brought up that I'm almost going home. I have 21 days left. I said I was sad. Then everyone else did too. Then they all came over and hugged me. What a great a day!!!! Throughout the class they kept saying how much they liked the class and me. We were learning about what we liked to do.