Goodnight, Sweetheart, Goodnight
I have a confession to make.
I've been contemplating writing this post for a couple of days now. You know, a general goodbye to Spain, ruminating upon all the things I've learned, reminiscing all the fun I've had, reminding Blogger that I still exist.
"This might be the last time you walk down the Gran Via," I said to myself.
Myself shot back. "So what?"
"Might be the last time you ever have morcilla." "So what?"
"Might be the last time you ever see the Palacio Real." "So what?"
If it's to be the end of churros con chocolate, it's also the end of diesel fumes, constant construction, being the target of xenophobia and constant disorganization. It's the end of cheating Spanish schoolmates (not mine, others'), a ridiculously awful educational system, and outdated technology. It's the end of sharing an apartment. It's the end of stepping in dog pee every other night. The End.
This morning, I had an 8am, just like every Friday (oh man, it's the end of that too). I showed up because I had to turn in the (22pageahahahah) paper. I sat and took notes, realizing it was the last day of having Magdalena as a professor (anyone good enough to make me go to a Thursday/Friday 8am EVERY WEEK deserves a Nobel Prize). At 9, I got my stuff together and started getting up, but Conchi stopped me. (Conchi is my friend. She is also a nun. This is very cool.)
"Since it's your last day, we all...well, ok, all of us, not just all the people who showed up for class today - wanted to get you something so you would remember your time here."
Wrapped inside a plastic bag was a book. Not a book - THE book, the only book we were told to buy the entire time we were here and therefore the only book I kept bumming off people because I was too cheap to buy it. Spanish Art for Foreigners. The book.
I got teary.
There are no more "so what"s.