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Published: October 12th 2005
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After a painful two hour bus ride (painful because I had zero sleep the night before and couldn't sleep on the bus possibly due to excitement, or the loud laughter of the kids in the back of the bus watching Dave Chapelle... in the seat behind me and to the back end) and a quick stop at some little "truck stop" town, we were greeted by the Rio Tormes and sight of the Catedral Nueve y Vieja. "Ooo"s and "Aah"s filled the bus. Pointer fingers seemed to be strangly drawn to different sights, buildings, and people. I felt the urge to bust out of the doors and run off the bus. 'Finally! Our destination!' The bus took us through a few cobble-stone streets before pulling off to the side of one where we were to meet our new families. As the bus slowed, a group of 60 & 70 somethings appeared. I heard someone say that these were our families. I repeated it to others and before you knew it, people were calling "dibs" on the white-haired senors and senoras. Our tour guide soon crushed our hopes of these being our families by saying that they were actually below the street
Bus ride to Salamanca 1
"truck stop" town buildings waiting for us. We watched our fantasy parents get onto the bus ahead of us, feeling like puppies being passed at a pet store window. Everyone was strong, no one cried 😊 and all off the bus to meet our new families. A cloud of confusion hovered above us. No one knew where to go, what to do, our fantasy families were now gone, and we were all orphans. After sifting through piles of luggage which were tossed out from under the bus, we slowly were corraled into a lower section of the street. There, our families awaited, watching the Americans as they struggled down a flight of about ten steps with their overpacked, enormous suitcases. I laughed too, as I had two backpacks and strided down the steps with ease. As some fought their way down the stairs, one step at a time, a voice from the crowd on the lower level yelled, "There's a ramp over there!" which caused some of us to laugh even harder. It was a sight to remember. *And, for those of you reading this who plan to travel... DO NOT BRING A SUITCASE!!! YOU WILL KILL YOURSELF TRYING TO MOVE YOUR THINGS. PACK
Bus ride to Salamanca 2
\"truck stop\" town buildings LIGHT! DON'T NEED 5 PAIRS OF SHOES AND YOUR WHOLE ROOM! Had to add that. The parting of our group was difficult yet exciting. The farrago of Americans and Spaniards were like being caught in the undertow. The group was a constant swirl of suitcases, backpacks, Americans, and Spaniards whirling around three people who were trying to calm the tide and seperate the pack into their new groups.A name was called, then two more, and this was the meeting of adoptee and adopted. A picture was taken of the new family, and the group was slowly divided as each walked away to their new home. Cristina was our new mom. She didn't speak much English and said that this was going to difficult, as we spoke little to no Spanish. We walked about a block or two with her, expecting every turn and stop to be our house, but only leading to the estacion de autobus. She said that we didn't have to pay for this ride. There was only one couple that got on the bus with us. Maybe at this time of day was not a busy time for the route. There was no way of knowing as
we had no way of asking her why the bus was so empty. We said next to nothing to our homestay mom for most of the ride. Occasionally we would attempt to ask a question with the broken sentences that we thought we knew, only to be answered with words we didn't know. It was almost better to say nothing to avoid confusion. Each time she would talk or respond, Denise and I would look to each other as if the other had the translation accross their forhead. Cristina pushed the alert button to let the conductor know that we wanted to exit. A group of school girls waited at the stop and got on as we got off. Denise had trouble with her maletas. They must have weighed 40-50 pounds. Cristina was nice enough to help her carry her things. As we walked towards the apartmento I couldn't help but take notice to all of the architecture and the age of our surroundings. Buildings shapes were accentuated with marble and stone statues or sculptures and stone vases. Balconies made of iron extended beyond edificio de apartmentos. The main streets were made of black asphalt and smaller side streets paved
with cobble-stone. Our apartmento was on the corner of a main street, Avenida de Mirat, and in front of the Plaza de Espana which was a rotary in an intersection that circled around a statue of a man on a horse. And this was our view. Our view from our iron railed balcony. The sounds of the street were our music. We quickly unpacked our things into the armoires provided for us. The room was well equipped with two beds, two armoires, two desks, two bed stands, two of everything. I took the bed closest to the balcony. I unpacked within five to ten minutes, as I brought little with me. And at this point, I had worn the same two pairs of pants at least three times each, the same shirts twice, and had to hand wash some clothes at the Madrid hotel so I would have something to wear. We, at some point, were to receive laundry service, but did not know how to ask in espanol. (As I write this two days after our arrival, we still don't know.) After unpacking, Cristina showed us the dining area, where she had left a prepared meal for us. We
Bus ride to Salamanca 5
Jake and Ben provided in-flight entertainment were shocked to see the amount of food on the table. Fat slices of pork, a large pan of mashed potatoes garnished with flakes of basil and slices of red bell peppers, a tomato slice salad with olive oil, loaves of bread, water, orange juice, and a basket of pan. And I thought I was going to starve. We quickly washed our hands and got started. It had been at least five hours since our last meal. Meals here are different than at home. Breakfast is a small meal consisting of a piece of toast or a croissant or muffin, some juice or water, maybe milk, and that's usually about it. It's not like in America where breakfast should be the most important meal of the day. Lunch, or almuerzo, is the main meal. There are usually two courses to it. A starter, like a pasta dish or salad, and then meat. Here the meats used most frequently are tuna and pork. Dinner, or cena, is a lighter meal. Soup and a meat. But in between, I try to eat as much as possible. The meals are never large. I haven't really become full and have always been hungry. Our
first meal, that lunch we had, did offer me enough food to feel comfortable and fall into a food coma. And a food coma at lunchtime was okay because the siesta lasted for another two hours, which means two hours of nap. This food coma was the first bit of really good sleep that I had this entire trip, aside from the massive hangover and alcohol induced 12 hour nap in Madrid. I was happy. Happy to be "home". Happy to have a home cooked meal. Happy to settle in to our home for the next two months. The evening brought more excitement with the introduction of our school and the Plaza Mayor. I remembered seeing the Plaza in books, on Salamanca websites, but never had I seen it like this. In the flesh, so to speak. I could actually touch it and see it with my own eyes. There is so much energy flowing in and out of the ally ways that lead to and from the Plaza that you feel an overwhelming sense of contentment when you are inside of it. People are happy, relaxed. They are eating, shopping, sitting on the ground as if at a park
First view of the town 2
About to cross the bridge. talking, holding each other, and embracing the life that fills the Plaza.
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Kelli
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Lavanderia
Laundry is "lavanderia." :) And Grandma was worried about your belching! Oh my. Plaza Mayor is so beautiful! Love your postings, Sister! Stay safe...