Andalucian Nice

Hiking in Nerja this past weekend

(These photos of hiking have no relation to the blogpost, just wanted to share them)

Manolo, our new BFF (story at end of blog post)

Forewarning: Fellow Barcelona friends, don't be offended by this post.

As most of you may know, I am absolutely in love with Barcelona. I have never learned more about myself, the world around me or the nature of people outside of my amazing six months there. I love the woman I stayed with, Eva, who took care of me as her own daughter as well as her extended Catalan family who took me in as their own. I´m still in regular contact wih her and plan to visit soon for a long weekend to stay with her. Barcelona is one of my favorite cities in the entire world. However, Andalucia (the region of Spain I am now living in) has something that Barcelona and Catalunya don´t-- overtly friendly, open and caring people.

I have never met a population of friendlier people. Now those of you from Minnesota may argue that the "Minnesota Nice" may take the crown for the friendliest population, and you may be right. I know I must take into consideration that I am an outsider here rather than a native, which I´m sure taints my view on the subject, but the people here are unbelievable. I have never been taken in so quickly to a population as one of their own or felt that I could walk down the street and know for a fact that 75 percent of the people would willingly and happily go out of there way to walk me to the nearest bank if I needed to find an ATM, while inviting me to dinner with their family that night in the same conversation.

As you may have guessed if you have read my previous posts, I´m extremely content at my school. Aside from the respect the other teachers give me and the excitement I see in the children´s faces when I walk into the room and they yell, "Teacher MacKenzie", in their little Spanish accents, I feel like I have 10 mothers here. The women teachers are constantly sitting by me on the couch, rubbing my back (normal cultural interaction here between women) while asking if everything is going OK for me here. They are constantly making sure I know where everything is, drawing maps, sharing recipes, making sure that I´m eating well (several of them have told me that I need to eat more although anyone who saw my first month binge on Spanish food would beg to differ), including me in all of their conversations and going out of their ways to welcome me and ask me about my general welfare with sincerity in their faces.

I am scared to have conversations with them about food at this point because I know that they will have a bag or "tupper" of it waiting for me the next day at school. Don't get me wrong, I love the food here, but I have run out of ways to say thank you. It's so kind. The first example that I have for you regards Veronica, a younger teacher here I ride home with every Wednesday. One day we talked about Spanish raisins, a vocabulary word I was unfamiliar with. The short conversation describing this fruit in Spanish was quite interesting. The next Monday I showed up for work she had a bag for me she said she had her Dad pick up for her when he went to the market. Why was this woman concerned about sharing Spanish raisins with me? I´m not sure, but it meant a lot. I also privately tutor one of the teacher´s children. When she came to pick them up at my apartment last week, she had just purchased a traditional Andalucian dessert from the bakery across the street for me. Unneccesary of course, but once again, means so much. The list goes on and on. After a conversation with the woman teacher that the rest of the teachers have told me is crazy, I am expecting a tupper full of fried pig brains which she insists that she makes the best. She says when I eat them I will have no idea they are brains. The jury is still out on that one.

I also can't explain how thankful I am that these people have included me in their lives. In fact, the director of my school told me the other day that he would like me to come to his house for Christmas to spend the holiday with his son and his woman. It's funny because they say "mi mujer" which literally translates to "my woman". I am going to say his woman instead of his wife because, well, it's just a lot more fun. Or today for example I was walking down the hall when Angel, an extremely kind male teacher at my school, sprinted down the hall to make sure that I knew I was invited to his birthday party on Friday and that he wouldn't take no for an answer. I have also received invitations for future trips to hike, ski and surf. I just can't believe how open they are. It's so much different from the Catalans I experienced.

Now I know that the people I was previously speaking about are all teachers, my colleagues that trust me because they know me personally. However, the same is true for people on the streets. The man at the fruteria (fresh vegetable and fruit market) that I went to tonight insisted on showing me and explaining me how to cook a specific bean I chose. The funniest time I experienced this desire to go out of their way to be friendly was when Liz, Courtney and I went on our roadtrip. We were lost in our rental car driving around the ancient part of Jerez that literally has streets a car can barely fit into and that I swear even a lab rat could not find their way through. We had a map out and were driving when a man on the street in Spanish yelled, "They're lost, let's help them" and ran over to our car. OK, so we might be 3 American girls in a car, but still, I just can't believe it. The truth is that I don't normally use maps or even have any idea where I'm going because my favorite part about finding something here is going to up to a random person on the street and asking them where the best ____________ is. By doing this I get an opinion from a local who knows the area best, an opinion or recommendation for something else in the area as well which always comes with the first directions and recommendation, and a genuine smile and feeling of care from a human being that has absolutely no idea who I am.

I'm sure after reading the above paragraphs you are barely holding attention to this blog as I am now realizing has become extremely long. However, I have one more story to share on the subject so far. When Courtney, Liz and I went to Ronda, we bumbled into a tapas bar where we ended up spending about 6 hours. It was packed full of people from the neighborhood and we quickly became best friends with all of them. Manolo, a 82 year-old-man who danced and performed his personal rendition of "Papa Americano" always made sure our wine glasses were full the entire time, with many of the glasses being on him. He and I almost got into a socio-political argument in Spanish regarding the regions of Spain, but he was just so open and friendly. During the conversation I of course was defending Catalunya. However he had some valid points regarding the people in the different regions and their overall character. He was genuinely interested in hearing about America and sharing his culture and personality.There is no room for stuffiness in Andalucia.

Well I hope my random stories about kind people here were interesting enough. If not, during my private lessons yesterday I taught three kindergartners how to say numbers in English using a stuffed cow in front of my face. I of course had a cow voice and everything I said was in Spanish except for the numbers, because they don't speak any English. If the image in your head of me using a cow voice in Spanish with a stuffed cow in front of my face sitting at table made for 5-year-olds isn't interesting enough, I just don't know what more I have for you.

Miss all of you. I really do think of you often.

xoxo

Kenzie Shea