Screw You BREAKFAST GOODS!

Alas, I am alone again, counting down the days until I go to Madrid and whittling away the hours by doing a whole ton of homework. But, since my family has left me once more, I return to the Spain I know. The apartment, the squeaky bed, the awkward exchanges between my señora and myself, the fried food.

I guess the return of family made things easier, hell it made stuff FUN! I was tourguide, translator, and all of it was paid for by someone else! I didnt even clean that much, really. I was no personal slave, trust me. It was a gift to have people who love me and know me back in my life. But, after waiving goodbye to my last visitor, I fought to keep tears from falling down my face. Suddenly, I was alone again, on Gran Via again, with way to many bags and not enough hands, I stumbled onto a bus filled with people who stared at me, and with no one to talk to, I took notice of the glares. At the moment, I was a bag lady, carrying all my supplies of the week back home to Calle Morena, and I felt even more homeless. I knew where I was going, but coming back to the house, the apartment where I have been living for the past two months felt almost as strange as my first night in the place, almost worse because all the excitement was gone.

I guess the reminder of family, of love, was almost a cruel tease. A bit of delicious dessert that is immediately taken away from you, as the tiny flavor still lingers in your mouth. You try to savor it, but it turns into the empty flavor of your mouth before you know it. Here I am, craving home, and I return to the reality that is my life, the normality of my Spanish life. I wake up, at 7.45, get dressed, eat breakfast of cafe con leche and little magdelenas (cupcakes, butter and muffin blending into one unsatisfyingly sweet morning), I walk to class, I sit in composition, I sit in culture, I get another cafe con leche, I return to school, do my emailing and blogging, and then I go to literature, sit for two hours, walk home again for lunch, eat with my señor and penelope, their daughter, take a nap, wake up, walk back to school, use the internet, return home, do homework-read-watch tv with my señora, and go to bed, only to start the day again (sometimes i have art history in the afternoon, or I tutor, I those days I stay at school for lunch). But my life has become routine here, and the change of it took me out of my comfort zone and into a more comfortable one.

This morning, as I sat with my coffee and those damn magdalenas, I realized something. I hate them. I cannot eat them anymore. I do not want to eat them anymore. They are not good for me, they leave me still hungry after I do, and they filled me with the guilt of highly fattening carbohydrates (a war I have been battling, and losing, all my life). They represent Spain to me, right now. I understand them, have developed a method of eating them, know exactly what to expect and how many calories are in each one (about 139). I know them, I get it, but it is not what I want and not what I need. Its how I feel, I understand Spain just enought. Not like an anthropologist studying the culture, but like an outside observer savoring the difference. I see it now, I understand it, but because I am not here for the long run, not willing to accept that magdalenas will be my breakfast forever, I see no need in eating them anymore. They just make me fat. I get it, I see what is different, I see what I am here, I see it, but I will never understand, never grow accustomed to it, especially knowing that I am still going to return.

Clearly, I have begun to grow bitter. But do not get me wrong, it is just one of those mornings, on of those days where I am ready to return, for my GRAND RETURN HOME. But I am still here, still stuffing bready butter in my mouth.


I am sorry for such an angry post, I guess it came out rougher than I meant. I love Spain, do not get me wrong, but today, it is just one of those days, where, thoughts of coming home fill my head and heart wit dizzying joy.

Alas, I have a month, and then who knows when I will return to Spain? It is a country that will always have a piece of my soul, a country that will always represent my time of learning and independance, a country that has taught me not only a language, but life in a way I had never seen. Spain is beautiful, but today, well, I would rather be in Buffalo Grove, chilling with family, going with friends to IHOP. Yes. Sometimes, I must admit, those little mundane things becomes my most vivid dreams.