return to spain

Well, I’m back. I spent a wonderful Christmas with my family at home, and it was far too short, of course. Doesn’t everything always rush by too fast? I have a feeling these next 4.5 months in Spain are going to go by like a flash as well. As I got off the plane in Palma, I have to admit that I only felt a dull stupor after traveling for 23 hours straight and knowing that I still had another 1.5 hours on the bus ahead of me, but I really am excited to be back. I’ve got a lot of things to work on now that I’m back—making friends, exploring the island, learning how to be a better teacher, practicing Spanish, getting the gumption to practice Mallorquín. Etc.

I got back to my apartment in Santanyí on Saturday, January 15^th, at about 2pm. I promptly went to bed, and woke up about 7pm to head to the festivities: Jan. 15^th is the day of Sant Antoni, which is one of the biggest festivals here in Santanyí. Sant Antoni (Saint Antonio) apparently is the patron saint of animals, so people celebrate his day by eating LOTS of meat. There was one huge bonfire just off the main square of town, with several bonfire-grills set up all around the square. The city hall sold plates of raw meat that you dropped on the grills and let sizzle over the flames. It was wonderful. Sofia, my roommate, also prepared marinated chicken kabobs and we brought along several bottles of wine and had a glorious time. There were people also doing traditional dances in the main square, and it reminded me SO MUCH of Mr. Stringfield’s contra dancing that I couldn’t help but be happy and homesick all at the same time! It was wonderful to watch. There were two or three large circles of people spinning and clicking castanets, and in each circle there were one or two people who really knew what they were doing. The rest of the people dancing watched them to follow the fancy footwork, and it seemed like everyone had a good time.

A little later, Sofia’s nephew, George/Jorge (I can’t quite figure out what he prefers to be called—his name in Bulgarian is something similar, but it isn’t George or Jorge, so I’m not sure if I’m hearing correctly when his parents call him "George" in one breath and "Jorge" in the next) and I went to Cala Figuera, a nearby town on the coast, to see the festivities there. George/Jorge introduced me to his friends and although we were going to stay for MAXIMUM one hour, we ended up staying out until about 1:30am. It was fabulous! I’m so glad that I got a great introduction to life back in Santanyí—I had a wonderful, emotional few days staying with my dad’s family near Seattle before leaving the States, and if I had come back to Spain to an empty apartment and an empty weekend, I would have probably slept until the cows came home.

As it is, I still have slept almost the entire day. I hate jet lag! Going back to the US is one thing, because I magically gain back all the time I’ve lost, but coming over to Europe, I feel like I’m always struggling to catch up to where I should be, but with my internal clock protesting all the way. I didn’t fall asleep until 7am this morning. Gripe, gripe. Ah, well—at least I can stream Comedy Central shows from Spain. There’s nothing like 4 straight hours of the Colbert Report in the wee hours of the morning.

Anyways, I’m back! I still want to write about 1) my family’s visit to Spain in December and 2) my wonderful time at home and with my grandparents. It’s back to work for me tomorrow, so I’m going to start thinking of lesson plans. Or maybe I’ll just watch some more Comedy Central.