Out for a stroll

There I was. In Spain. Studying abroad. Fulling my dream. A dream I had harbored, nurtured,coddled even, for six years. I had worked as a grocery store cashier, greenhouse assistant and museum interpreter --  in full period costume nonetheless -- to pay for this dream.


Then why was I in my room with the door shut and tears in my eyes? 


I felt lonely. I had opted to live in a Spanish home-stay without other American students. I was picturing me, madre, padre y unos niños. Instead, I was living with an elderly lady and her live-in housekeeper, which was ok don't get me wrong but it wasn't a family. No one to show me around. No kids to play with and learn from. (Kids are the best language teachers, I've found.) 


There were just 6 of us in my study abroad program. Myself and 5 other girls, who all - from the get-go - adopted a disdainful attitude toward me.Truly. This still puzzles me.


Anyway, there I was sitting in my new Spanish room on a Saturday afternoon. We ate lunch at 2, and I'm sure I took the customary siesta. Gotta love a socially acceptable afternoon nap. My body, apparently, was acclimating to the Spanish lifestyle before my mind.


After consulting a trusty street map. I decided to go out. Get some fresh air. Observe life in Madrid. I saw a big green splotch on the map and set my course thataway. Why not? I've always loved a good park. El Parque de Buen Retiro, this one was called. In English, the Park of Pleasant Retreat. With that name it had to be decent, right?


Families, puppets, bubbles, soccer players, lovers, churro stands. Walk farther. Hear distant drumming. Go with the flow. A pond with row boats. A grand monument. Stop and stare for a moment because this is Spain. It's probably old. And important.

I am here finally. I found the people and a window into their culture. As I walk along the edge of the pond, I see a tarot card reader, artists next to watercolors, a portable marionette stage. A violinist played a Josh Grobin song that reminded me, achingly, of my grandmother, who I knew would have been so proud of me. I put a euro in his hat. The memory associated with the song was worth so much more to me.

On the other side of the monument there were drum circles and people juggling and kids running around. I couldn't help smiling and smiling. I felt so connected, so happy I was experiencing this, so thankful.

I gained more than a bright afternoon in the park. I learned that the moment when I'm feeling at my lowest and loneliest, that's the time to go out and join the world. It's having with or without me; I only need to open my door and let myself be a part of it.

Oh, what a Saturday in the Park, Spanish -- not Chicago -- style, this time.