September 9, 1995

Las Meninas

"If and when I have children, they aren't going on any trips anywhere until they can prove to me that they will appreciate it." 

The letter on the 9th was written on a bus ride from Madrid to Sevilla, where I was to spend the academic year.  It summarized the events of the day before.  On September 8th (Twenty years ago yesterday), I went to the Prado museum for the second time in my life.  The first time had been with my mom in 1988.   If you go to the Louvre, you see the Mona Lisa.  If you go to Milan, you see the Last Supper. If you go to the Prado, you go for Las Meninas.

Anyone who ever studied abroad in Spain has seen Las Meninas.  We do a unit on it in Spanish 3. When I was thirteen, I thought it was neat you could see the King and Queen in the mirror.  When I was twenty it was cool he painted himself painting a picture.  Now that I'm forty I can't believe the kid had to interrupt her parents while they were trying to get a picture painted.   It's also an example of how life with children, even royal children, is pure chaos.

I did comment that I wasn't old enough to appreciate the museum in '88 and wrote that  "if and when I have children, they aren't going on any trips anywhere until they can prove to me that they will appreciate it."

My twenty year old self did not know the personalities of three kids she would have one day.  Staying home isn't really our thing.  If we go somewhere, we see and do all we can see and do.  Maybe not the fanciest art museum yet, but some day.

At some point during the previous day I had also received my permanent rooming assignment. It was on a little slip of paper that I kept in a scrapbook probably until the Pittsburgh move.   I was going to live in a residencia for girls with a family ( a mother with three children- more on them as the year progresses) and my roommate was the 25 year old.  25!!!! Twenty five?  She was so old. She had already gone to college once and was getting a second degree.  Who does that?

And I was threatening children not even born yet.

September 7, 1995

The flight movie was Casper.  Whose idea was that?  Obviously, I slept through the entire thing.  Customs and immigration was easy.  We took a bus to the hotel and were warned by Jan, the program director, that petty theft was common in a big city and to please be careful as we wandered around.

 I wrote that "the girl who sat next to me on the plane is really easy to talk to.  I hope that doesn't change."  Her name was Kysa.   We sat on the bus together and agreed to be roommates as others were frantically deciding who would match up with who.

After we settled, we left the hotel to explore Madrid. We were only going to be there two days and this was the capital.  I had gone before at age thirteen, but my mother did all the talking then.  According to my letter, "we ended up exchanging money, talking to other Americans, and going to the Reina Sofia museum, which was free with the International Student ID ."

I spent a lot of time looking at the Dalis and the Picassos. Seeing the actual Guernica is much more impressive than any poster print you hang on a wall.   That day was also my first venture into the Corte Inglés for notebook paper to write home on.  The paper wasn't lined the same way college ruled was, to this day I don't know if I wrote on it the right way or not.

We started our orientation sessions that night.  I went to a bar and spoke Spanish with locals who thought, "My Ecuadorian accent was cute." (I had to shed that right away)

 My first day in Spain!

Reflection:
Even without a smartphone telling me where to go, I wasn't afraid to wander around Madrid and look for what I needed.  I found the department store, exchanged my money, and added a museum to the list that wasn't on our fixed itinerary. I'd already noticed the simple difference in notebook paper.  The only thing we did wrong was wander around during siesta.  After a month I would not be going anywhere after 1:00 or before 3:00.  It was creepier to me than walking home at night.   I even felt it this past summer when my colleagues and I were looking for coffee around two in the afternoon.

I still have a way of finding what needs to be done and doing it. I can explore a city with three children hanging on me.  It started twenty years ago today in Madrid.

September 6, 1995

From the letter:

"Nobody is an ax murderer, although there do appear to be a plethera of sorority sisters that might grate on my nerves."

 Earlier in the day, my mom actually let a class go early so she could take me to the Greensboro airport.  My sister drove.  Before I left my sister pulled me aside. "Page, everything you have ever wanted has worked out for you.  That won't change now."  She made me cry.

I flew up with two others on the program. Natalie and Andrew. Andrew's parents were actually friends of my grandparents from their wildlife conventions.  Good lord my grandparents know everybody. We found the gate in Newark, New Jersey.  Ugh who would live in the north on purpose?

There were thirty of us in all spending a junior year abroad.  23 girls and 7 boys.   Our assistant director, Carolina, checked our names off on a clipboard.  Jen was from Bates, and I'd never heard of that school.

And that was letter one.

Reflection:

• Twenty years later I have flown in and out of Newark three more times.  Most recently chaperoning a group of teens as they go out to discover Spain themselves.
• When I took my sons to preschool in Madison, CT, I met a lovely woman wearing a Bates hat.  I happily told her all about my friend from my junior year abroad in Spain. 
• I was having coffee with a friend yesterday on her porch.  We saw a hawk swoop down for a dove and fly off.  I thought of my grandfather and his wildlife work.  Reading about Andrew in today's letter made that even more special. Maybe I'll go to a wildlife summit myself one day. 
• My sister is right.  Things work out for me.  She still makes me cry. 
• As for my mom, being a parent changes the way you teach.  For her to cancel a class was unheard of before she had children in college.  I myself never took late homework until I found Frances' math worksheet completely done, but under her bed. 

A regifted year in Sevilla

Tonight at dinner I told Kenneth I could find God in anything.   When we are watching Once Upon a Time, walking a sunflower maze, or washing a car together and probably just moving the dirt around, God is there.

Of course he had to challenge this.

"The Terminator?"

I had an answer.

"Mothers have hidden strength they don't know is there., and NOTHING terminates them."

I won. :0)

Everything can be a gift from God.

I haven't blogged in a while.  As my children have gotten older I respect their privacy.   I also went to graduate school and getting a masters degree was a high priority, it didn't leave a lot of time for creativity.  But I have had a yearning to write something  other than a lesson plan.

 God doesn't just gift.  Sometimes, God "Re-gifts".    Twenty years ago today, I left for a year in Sevilla, Spain.  I have every letter I ever wrote home.  Dated. In order. Under my bed.   In the age of tweets, blogs, emails, Facebook posts, and texts, I have letters.   A collection of letters is a gift from God.


I'm going to go through those letters and reflect on the time I was there. I'm going to see some old friends and places.  I might actually be able to connect some of it to things going on in my life right now.  I don't think I can do it every day and if I do it might be a long post or a short one-  or just a quote.  We will see.

Thank you God.