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Home for Christmas

Home for Christmas and back to Spain

The rest of the trip went as smooth as peanut butter and we found smiles in each others company. By the time the seventh day had arrived I began to beg the God of Time to slow down. But soon Antonio’s departure date came and we had to say our goodbyes. I wanted to keep going for maybe we both could run away from all our problems, his work my no work, we could live on love and that would be romantic. However I guess being in the Andes Mountains with a boy that loves you had the aura of romantic even if it only lasted nine days.

Now we had come to a point in our relationship, what to do next. We had to take it to the next level because there was no way we could continue long distance for too long after the L-bomb had been dropped. Since he had had a stable job with a stable income he invited me back to Spain. Since I had already lived in Madrid before and knew the ropes and perceived I could make money thus a move back to Spain sounded like a plan. However I was approaching the red in my bank account and comprehended that I couldn’t move back to Spain without a short stop in St. Louis for a few months to build up my bank account. So that was our plan I would move back to Spain sometime in the next six months after I had some money in my savings account.

After I gave him a kiss at the Santiago bus terminal I threw my bag below the bus and began to reflect for the next 23 hours on the way back to Buenos Aires. Now it was my turn to risk being burned by moving back to Spain not for food, not for a trip, not for school but for a guy. He would be the sole reason for my return. Trying to live by the soundtrack of my life, Beyonce's song “Independent Woman” had been my theme, could I really be Miss Dependent. I had been extremely self-supporting when I moved to Spain, never settling for a man, putting myself and my desires first. Could I really give up my autonomous lifestyle for a guy? But then again isn't this what I had always wanted.

I got back to Buenos Aires a day before my final. Staying at Ashley’s place for five days I had two days to study for my Spanish final. I studied until I only saw Spanish words and passed the final by the skin of my teeth. A few days later I said goodbye to the South America and Argentina, the land American must have looked like before hotels and gas stations popped up every five miles. I was going to miss the charm of South America of the cowboys, vast endless land, the untamed mountains, and the sea. It was a gigantic country with tropical vegetation in the North bordering Brazil and domineering glaciers in the South, the sea to the east and the mountains to the West, it had something for everybody.

It was hard to go back to the States due to the weather. I had grown to enjoy summer which had slowly approached that year. The shock of going from 90 degrees to 23 degrees does a number on your body. But I made it home safe and sound for Christmas. I decided to keep Antonio’s trip private because I didn’t want a judgmental panel brought to Christmas dinner and I decided to keep my decision to move back to Spain for Antonio also a secret from my friends because I didn’t want to feel judgment from any of them. Failing by yourself you only have one person to pick up but failing with friends and family you have A LOT of explaining to do.

I was able to slip right into my old work situation, the same before I had left for Spain the first time. I was substitute teaching during the day and waitressing at night. Living at ma and pap’s place I was able to save the enough money that I wanted for Spain in only three months. I had been very fortunate with this situation. Then before I knew it I was back on the flight headed for Madrid Spain. I was returning for one reason only, love. I wanted to see finally what love was all about.

Originally I had told Antonio that I would only stay at his place for one month until I got my feet on the ground because being a wholesome Midwest gal I didn’t want to live with my significant other until I was married. I could hear the record of my Mom’s voice on repeat, “If you live with him before marriage why would he ever want to marry you?” I wasn’t searching for a diamond in this return trip to Spain, honestly I was searching for love, for the feeling and for the knowledge because I had never been in a committed relationship before and I wanted to understand its operations.

I made sure Antonio understood day one that this living arrangement was provisional. Previously, I had connected with my old flat mate that I had lived with my first year in Spain and was thinking I might move in with her again or I might just start looking for a place closer to the center. Besides Antonio and I were sharing a room the size of a hallway where I slept in his single bed and he slept on a mattress that laid on the floor. Antonio had another roommate, Jose, who at the time also had a guest, his brother, staying at their house but in the owner’s bedroom who only came into town once a year.

Thankfully I had only brought my clothes that I considered most wearable; I had managed to put all my items in one shelf in the closet. Trying not to step on people's toes in a three bedroom, two bathrooms, one narrow kitchen and one living room was a little difficult. I didn't pay rent the first month and neither did Jose's brother therefore I didn't feel as guilty living off Antonio since other people in the house were doing the same.

Moving back one week before April I decided I knew how to look for English classes however since my rent was cheap and I had saved Euros from the last time working in Spain that maybe I now could afford to take more intensive Spanish courses. I already knew where good cheap classes where located and not having to teach to survive I could afford to take a Spanish course and have ample amount of time to study during the day. Antonio agreed and thought the plan was a good idea. I told him that I am a person who constantly needs to be improving myself and I would be extremely disappointed in myself if I had lived abroad for a few years and wasn’t fluent in Spanish.

At once I was happy about my decision to return. Madrid had been my first love of city, a city hidden from tourism by its locations and the popularity of Barcelona on the coast. It was where the real Spaniards lived with their cafes con leches, their Spanish style of architecture and feeling of alive. People everywhere in the streets, talking, laughing and shouting, Madrid had become my city.

Moreover the first month living with Antonio, I got to him pretty quickly. When I first started dating Antonio I found that he was slightly selfish and had tendency of being machismo. In our first two weeks of dating, Antonio took me to his soccer match where I thought his team had a lower level than in the Missouri. I didn't like his style of playing and thought he hogged the ball too much and cared only if he scored not if his team scored. I thought that his playing on the soccer field would transcend to his personal life and I wasn't thrilled about being with a selfish man. I had pegged the relationship as “over” even before I had left Spain because I wasn't that into him. In spite of that I soon saw a different side to Antonio as soon as we continued talking while I was in the States and his visit to Argentina. As soon as I moved in with Antonio I began to see him in a different light. He wasn't selfish at all; he shared his room, his closet and his food with me. Any thing that was his I could now use as though it were mine. I saw how organized he was as a person. Unlike myself he thought everything had its place where his shoes were placed in the closet, all put in shoeboxes with labels, and medicine was labeled in a different box and clothes were pressed, folded and put back in the same spot where they had been retrieved.

Also I got to know a more personal side of him. The third week after I had arrived to Spain I went with him to his hometown Salamanca to see the city, to meet his friends and maybe to meet his parents since they were going to be out of town the whole weekend. The first thing I noticed while freely entering his parents’ home was the enlarged picture of him hanging on the wall. Antonio was around nine years old, wearing this grandpa like Kelly green jacket that buttoned up the middle and kaki colored slacks. He was playing chess against an old man who was standing up and in the background of the picture you could see loads of other people in a circle playing against the same old man. The picture made me smile because I was able to see another side of him that I had never seen before. He had never shown of this nerdy but intellectual side of him before. But I guess that is what you do in relationships, you learn about the other person and all their quirkiness.

I met Antonio's parents before leaving for Madrid on Sunday. His Mother was affectionate and his Father was generous. They both spoke Spanish a little too fast for me and my Spanish was maybe an Intermediate level then; hence I was a little embarrassed at the time to speak with them since I didn't understand much. His father was from a small town outside Granada in Andalusia, quite possibly the hardest Spanish accent to understand. I just kept nodding my head, smiling and said "si si si" anytime someone asked me a question. Nevertheless we communicated through gestures and the feeling of amiability was conveyed.

It was probably the third time I had ever met my boyfriend’s parents. In High School I had met several times the parents’ of my boyfriends but that was High School and I doubt their parents even knew that we were dating because in High School everyone is always together, guys and girls. Except there had been that one time in college were I met my boyfriend’s father. We sat down to eat a nice big piece of meat for lunch. During the whole conversation everyone kept asking me how I liked the meat and I said, of course that it was good. Then after I was finished they asked me if I had like the way Bambi tasted. “What” I replied taken a little off guarded in an already awkward situation.

“We killed that last week” My at the time boyfriend’s father said with a large Southern draw.
. “Thanks” I said as I smile with disgust.

However meeting Antonio’s parents was different. Even though we couldn’t speak the same language I had like them as people and as a family. It felt nice that he wanted me to know his life that he wanted to let me in. Likewise I had just moved from the States to be with him but I questioned myself if I would have been as welcoming if the roles were reversed.
I got back into my groove taking Spanish classes and making decent acquaintances from my classes. Antonio and I were getting to know each other and how we worked with doing the dishes, cleaning the house and the laundry. I saw how committed to this relationship he was and I mitigated my anxiety.

After two months I thought I had greatly improved my Spanish therefore I wanted to look for a job where I could use my Spanish outside the classroom and my home. Antonio helped me translate my CV from English to Spanish and we went out one day looking for waitressing jobs together. I have never been timid in English but it is a different situation when I was speaking in Spanish. I still didn't understand a lot at that time but I figured I could waitress some to make money because all you need is a body to wait tables and in Spain you don't work off tips thus it didn't matter if my Spanish wasn't very good. Consequently I still didn't have my paper situation taken care of. Antonio being a true Spaniard believed that white lies never hurt anybody told my future prospect employers that I didn't have my papers yet; however we were getting married in two months. I didn't like playing around with the idea that we were getting married because matrimony scared me a lot and I wasn't going to get married just for papers. That went against my principals. But Antonio informed me that here in Spain that is how business is done and lying a little is not hurting them just helping you. I figured since he was doing the talking that there was no harm to me since I couldn't tell a lie.

Finally after dropping off my CV in ten places down in the city one guy wanted an interview with me at a Tapas place. I went in the next day and we did the whole interview in Spanish. I didn’t understand every word but I understood that this guy had contacted his manager about my paper situation and said the boss wouldn’t hire me until I got my papers and when we got married he would be happy to give me a job.

Another restaurant that we went in we talked to the owner right away. He told us the same thing because for him it was too big of a liability if something happened to me during the shift and he didn’t want to take that risk when he had other Spanish citizens applying for the job.
I knew I could have gotten a job at an Irish pub but those restaurants stay open until 3:00 in the morning and they are stuffed with smoke. I had moved to Spain to be with Antonio and I didn’t want to work nights and never see him because he worked days.

I was becoming more frustrated by the application. Teaching English there had been such a need because Spanish people could not do the job of a native therefore companies were willing to hire people illegally however in the restaurant sector it was not the same because you had to speak Spanish they could take Spanish people or other foreigners from the EU or illegal immigrants from Bolivia because they were fluent in Spanish unlike myself. I now found that the applicant pool for severs was much bigger and my status was less qualified. Now I was competing with illegal Mexicans, Ecuadorians and Brazilians and they all had a better chance then the American.

I began to get frustrated with my situation. By mid May almost two months had passed since arriving to Spain and I had only one interview and no luck with hopes to work in Spanish. I became bored and agitated with my living situation. I had decided against the move out of Antonio’s apartment because I looked at my living situation through an economical eye (and a lover’s eye). If I wanted to continue learning Spanish and spend time looking for a decent job waitressing than I couldn’t move out, I just couldn’t afford it. And I had moved back to a country that I thought I wouldn’t have returned to except for vacation and here I was less than one year later running around the city like a bull that had lost his way to the plaza.

With summer approaching I decided to deter waitressing until September (since nobody works in August in Europe anyway) and I would teach at summer camps for the months of July and August. I spoke to another American girl from my Spanish class who told me about several camps in Spain and Italy and they were hiring. I quickly applied for the jobs, one in Italy and one in Spain. With the Spanish camp I got hired pretty quickly due to my interview and they had positions they needed filled. I would be working at a camp about an hour outside Madrid where I would live there during the week and I could take the bus back to Madrid on the weekend. It was a perfect job because I needed to work. I needed to earn money. Antonio and I were in love, but we definitely did not have marriage love to support me and I was an independent woman who needed some dough.

By the time June rolled around I was ready to work. Two months off work was too much. I went back to Sexy English to see if I could substitute some classes until the end of the year. I talked to the owner about South America and he gave me a big hug and said it was good to have me back in Madrid. The management had changed a lot at Sexy English and I only recognized a few office workers and one teacher, but I was happy to start filling in for some classes and making a little cash on the side.

They had hired a new Director of Studies, one who is the mediator between the teachers and the companies. She wanted to give me an interview and a grammar test before I started but the owner said that wouldn't be necessary and I was a very reliable teacher. People in management position at Sexy English who were lower on the totem pole had moved to higher places. It is amazing to see the turn over rate in nine months.

I also found another company CCC English looking for a teacher until the end of June. I quickly jumped on that opportunity. I liked the owner and how he ran his business. CCC English paid much better than Sexy English and also gave contracts for the year. The owner, Dwight had been an English teacher before in Madrid and knew how much of a struggle it was to run around the city all day from class to class with out any security.

“We let our English teachers pick where they want to teach their classes because some English teachers live on one side of town and they could spend an hour traveling to one class where another English teacher might only spend ten minutes to travel to a class. Therefore we arrange the classes by where the teachers' live and let the teachers pick their classes and everyone is happy and we can pay more.” Dwight said as I struggled to understand his rural Welsh accent.

It had sounded like an Einstein plan to me because what any English teacher abroad who doesn't work at a school hates is the travelling. The travel will kill you by slowly tiring out you back due to the heavy bag, then weakening your legs due to the fast past walking, torturing your brain with late buses and ill treatment of your nose due to the overcrowded trains that have a very potent OB smell, first thing in the morning.

I learned a lot about myself those first three months moving back to pleasureful Madrid. I could only work so long without a job, I needed to feel Independent, and work made me feel meaningful despite meaningless work. Antonio and I grew a lot closer after three months and I felt as though I had made the right decision, but can you make a bad decision when your heart is involved ?-(of course you can).

Posted by mmac18 on 2009-11-02 16:14:17 | Rating: