I have a lot to be happy about this week J I got an A in my class! I was so worried that this class would kill my GPA (yes, I’m still concerned with grades, don’t really know why, but I am). I guess I’m learning more Spanish than I think like I am. I’ve been here a month now, I’ve finished one intensive class, and I feel like I’m getting my city legs. Finally.
On Tuesday I went to the Colon Theater for a guided tour. It’s a truly marvelous place. Gorgeous, inspiring, and powerful. It was built in the late 1800s, in honor of Christopher Columbus’s 400th anniversary of discovering the Americas (they call him Colon here). But it took them an extra 20 years to finish. It was well worth the wait. They imported most of the marble from Europe, and used only the best material. Back then, theater and art were elevated to a higher status of daily life. That’s why you have to climb stairs to get to the theater, to leave the woes of daily life behind, and rise to the occasion for the sake of art. I really like that philosophy. There were several marble statues, but one in particular was damaged in the passage from Europe. Instead of replacing the two marble fingers that were knocked off, they left the statue as is. They said it would damage the integrity of the statue since it was all carved out of a single piece of marble.
Inside of the theater, the acoustics were amazing. It’s rated 3rd in the world. It made me really want to transport my Shomber choir from high school here to sing. But we sang “Wagon Wheel” instead. Which was just as powerful. The song reminds me of home, but it also connects me to here. There’s something about music that truly defies all boundaries and speaks straight to your heart. If you don’t know it, you should:
And I got my package! After a week-long drawn-out process, I got my birthday package from home. I seriously have the best family ever. It was still a complicated adventure, taking the subway to the post office, waiting in the first line to pay, waiting in the second line for my number to be called, going through a creepy back door to the back room, waiting in line again, struggling to communicate, and following misguided directions… the postman finally handed me my package. It was nice to finally touch something that had been out of my grasp for so long. I waited to open the package until my mom could talk on Skype, and I’m glad I did. Inside was lots of granola bars, almonds, nutella, and mini-eggs! Not to mention light up balloons, highlighters, an adapter, and the best alien tee-shirt. I feel very loved, and blessed to have such an amazing and thoughtful family.
My host mom is sad when I tell her I’ve been studying, and rolls her eyes when I say class is hard every day. She wants me to go out more and experience the city. I want to too, but when I’m in the same “beginning” class as some people who have taken 2-3 years of Spanish before (and I’ve had none!), it’s hard to keep up. Even after taking the test, I still feel like I’m 2 steps behind. But I do really enjoy class and learning the language. We even have old school chalkboards in my classroom! How crazy is that?
Speaking of crazy, why on earth to objects have a gender? Who assigns masculinity and femininity? Why is the sun a man, but the house is a woman? And how am I supposed to memorize a gender for every new word I learn?
Don’t know if I mentioned this before, but the elevator to my apartment is really cool. You have to open and close the doors yourself. One of the first days I tried to open it a bit too soon and I had to step up to get out. Yeah, freaky.
Everywhere I look there’s something new. There is no way I could possible capture it all—with words or pictures. There’s just too much. I’ve been here a month and still see more and more on my way to class every day. There’s a women in the apartment complex facing mine that stands in her window (I don’t think she as a balcony, or at least she prefers to just hang her head outside), everyday for several hours. Maybe she sees a lot more than I do.
I watch people on the streets and I wonder how they can be happy here, especially the little kids and the old people. I feel bad for the kids who grow up in surrounded by people and traffic, who know only noise and pollution, who hold onto their mom’s hand for dear life during rush hour on the subway. I watch the young moms struggle with strollers on the broken street tiles, tying to avoid rolling through the dog poop. And I see the older people, hobbling down the streets with canes or in wheel chairs, making slow and painful progress. It takes me 30 minutes to walk to class, and I have a pretty quick pace. I can’t imagine living in the city and not being able to use my own mobility to get around.
I look at these people, thinking what kind of life is this, and then I see them. I see that they have made their own piece of happiness in this big world. They laugh with their friends, hug and kiss their family, drink coffee on street corners and drink water out of tiny glasses. They watch movies and read newspapers, go jogging and soak in the sun. So what if it involves sirens, smog, and horrid humidity. It’s their life. And for now, it’s mine too.
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