My final week in Europe has been a whirlwind.
I finished my finals Wednesday afternoon and headed out to lunch courtesy of the school with the professors and Isabele (secretary) and Arturo (headmaster). We went for paella (a traditional Spanish meal with rice and usually seafood). We laughed a lot and they scolded us for not eating everything and taught the others how to eat snail- I drew the line there.
Then that evening Hannah and I had talked about going out to eat at a nice restaurant. So we decided to invite everybody. It ended up being all 5 of us from school, Erick and Hernán, Juan, Rebecca, Hannah and Leo. We ate pizza and spoke a mix of Spanish and English and just generally enjoyed each others' company.
Afterwards, those of us who could hung out a little longer and planned our dance party for Friday. I got home at 3. And then slept until 3 the next day. It had been a busy/low sleep previous few weeks. But yikes.
Thursday I think I just sort of hung out and packed. Nothing super special. Oh except our two friends, Erick and Hernán are brothers and both are fairly insecure but they display it in different ways. It's something I'd noticed but hadn't felt like it was my place to say anything. Erick speaks a good amount of English. Hernán doesn't. So Thursday night I was texting with Hernán and he said something about being ugly in some picture. Then a little later said he couldn't dance. Neither of which are true. So I kind of preached at him in Spanish about self worth and how it needs to come from God and not people and that it doesn't matter what people think and all that good stuff. And I think he genuinely understood and appreciated it. That was incredible because those are the conversations I want to be having. Ones that mean something. And I was able to encourage my friend in his language and it made sense. Yay Spanish!
Friday night then was my last supper with my dear family. We had pizza and we all crowded in the tiny kitchen and laughed as Monica shared her dreams of owning a pet monkey and raccoon (among other things) when she's a widow. And we talked about last names and how Spanish people have a gazillion and I have 1.
Later Rachel, Erick, Hernán, Dessa, Juan and I went out dancing. This was something we'd talked about doing all semester. It finally happened the last night. We met up and went to the first place. They had live music. Rachel and I had been there a few times before and usually love it because it's mostly Berklee students who play. This time it was a Spanish band. It was still fun and Rachel and I had a fun time trying to dance like Spanish people. We can't.
Side note: Juan is Columbian and Erick and Hernán are Bolivian. They all have dancing in their blood.
Side side note: Spanish dancing starts with footwork and everything else follows. I don't know how to move my feet. Thus Spanish dancing is a hilarious struggle. Mejor con un pareja.
So we went from there to another place with American music, and back to the first place to chill a bit. Then we walked Dessa home and said goodbye *sad face*.
But then this was my favorite, outside of the hilarious/wonderful moments that I can't describe, Juan had been playing music from his phone and I think some Sam Smith song came on. And for whatever reason the 5 of us who were left walked back toward the city with our arms linked and sang along with what was playing. I swear it could have been straight out of a movie.
Hernán and my's relationship Friday was totally different than it had been previously too after our conversation the night before. We had been mostly acquaintances until the last few weeks and then that last night it was a whole other level. I wish that could have happened sooner. It sucks to have to leave after only just getting close. But it was a beautiful night full of memories to look back on.
Saturday I made sure all my stuff was in order and got all ready to go. I gave Begoña my letter and we cried. Because goodbyes suck. Even with the promise of seeing each other again. She and Sofia walked me most of the way to the train and then with more tears hugs, we parted ways.
I didn't know my goodbyes would be as hard as they were. But it was beautiful-- the pain and the tears-- because that means the time was well spent and the people well loved and that is worth grieving. But it's also worth celebrating. I love Spain and Spanish and all the people I met there. Valencia will forever have a piece of my heart.