Una familia nueva

Every time I travel I feel like I'm in search of something. Some form of self discovery, an answer to some question, a discovery of who I am or what I'm supposed to do. It's always a challenge. Being somewhere strange with people you aren't used to speaking a language you don't know. Here in Spain things are pretty "western" so I honestly don't think I can call it culture shock. I've no doubt experienced culture shock so I know how it feels. 

This feeling it isn't quite as julting. I think it's just the feeling of knowing you're learning something, without knowing what you're learning yet. Those little moments of self discovery often come from realizing the things I miss most. 

I made a list yesterday and sent it to my mom, the things that make me happiest. I ignored things I do often, the things people want me to say, the common stereotypical happy things. I listed the things that if I could plan a perfect day would be included. Maybe that's what I'm learning here, maybe it's learning to be more comfortable in my own skin. 

Either way, the challenge hasn't been to fit in here with the spaniards. Missing home maybe, and my Americans, maybe, but finding spaniards to take me in has been the opposite of a challenge. 

I dare say this family has brought me to be part of their family more than any other host family I've stayed with. I can't say they are my favorite because, well because Jenica, but man these people are up there on my list. 

Yesterday we took a "walk" that lasted 5 hours, included 2 stops for cañas and 1 for dinner. We walked and talked and walked and ate and drank and walked and stopped when we ran into more family or friends. 

Everywhere we go my host mother Angelita, is so beyond proud to introduce me and tell them that I understand Spanish "perfectamente" followed by me being completely lost in their rapid highly accented conversations. She spanks my butt when I do something she's proud of, she cuddles up next to me on the couch to Facebook stalk all my best friends from home, she does my laundry, makes me food, is insanely protective of people such as my host brother trying to get me to try meat when were out at restuarants. She buys me fruit even though she doesn't like it, she tells me I'm boring and makes fun of me but defends me to everyone else that I work too hard when I'm home in the states and this is my chance to relax. She's patient with my Spanish and is so sweet trying to learn some English and oh man let me tell you we've shed many tears laughing so hard over her attempted pronunciation of the work plate which sounds much more like plaís. She let's me throw out the food I don't really want and feeds me more of what I do like. She offers me everything I need and even replaces more toilet paper rolls in the bathroom before I even run out. She helps with my homework and takes me to get churros for breakfast before a long day of travel. We talk about everything under the sun.

My host brother makes fun of me every chance he can get just like the brother I never had. My host brother in law makes smart comments to try and confuse me, saying funny things with a straight face, and anyone learning a foreign language will tell you the hardest thing to understand in a foreign language is humor. My host sister in law is sweet and caring towards me, hesitant to confuse me and yet so bold in her ways. My host sister is an unbelievable amount of kind and patient towards me, protective and funny. Emma just turned 6-months-old and has the most beautiful big brown eyes, spits up a lot, and knows how to cry when she needs to. And man Irene, I think I could leave it at, I'm planning on smuggling her back to the states with me in my suitcase. Her cubby checks, her big practically toothless smile, her baby pout, the face she makes when she eats food she doesn't like for the first time, like gazpacho, when she curls her lips and wrinkles her nose and looks at her mom is sadness of how could you feed me something so awful, when she claps, waves good bye, give you a kiss when you ask her to, when she walks around the streets of Toledo holding my hands, when she tried fried calamari with me for the first time, her dresses, her shoes, her little tears when she wakes up grumpy. 

I can't leave these people, I love them, and I just wish my Spanish was better so I could just feel like one of them.

To a few cousins yesterday I think Angelita was telling them that she hopes that if I ever come back to Spain that I will feel I have a family here. She makes my soul happy. 

While everyone else in my group hangs out I hang out with my family, and they all say you spend too much time with them tell them you need to see your friends, but in the end I'm so happy to spend time with my family. 

Maybe my lesson from Spain is family, maybe it's no more complicated than that:... family. I think I'd be okay with that.

Today I went to a park near my house to read, a tour group stopped right next to the bench I was laying on to talk for 15 minutes and a woman asked if she could sit. It was uncomfortable as five other women smushed onto the bench I was on but, the woman next to me looked at me and told me I was pretty/cute, then thanked me for letting her sit. Spain isn't all that bad I guess.