My Epic Return

I know you've all been on the edge of your seats waiting to hear updates on my last post back in September... and I am finally ready to write it!

So as you know, I was having a bit of a mental block on what I was doing with myself those past few months.  I have a great job. Amazing friends and family. New apartment.  New life, in some ways.... I just had a few unanswered questions that I needed to ask myself and work out the answers.

And I can say that I have found those answers....

The main and most important question:
Do I regret moving back to Chicago
(or maybe better said: Do I regret leaving Spain)?

I got on a plane destination Madrid on October 17th.  The entire trip was spent fidgeting in my seat, trying unsuccessfully to nap and daydreaming of the adventures to that await while dreading the decisions I might have to make.

I knew my first few hours were going to be a whirlwind....

I was stopping in Madrid for a total of 4 hours to drop of my suitcases as my friend Melissa's work and get back on a plane to Barcelona for Michelle's wedding extravaganza.  In that time, I lost my new leather jacket, spent an hour trying to buy a cheap phone (because the worker didn't know how to issue one to a non-citizen), missed my train so paid a taxi 40 euros to bring me to Barajas Airport, somehow found the lost leather jacket and argued with security for not letting me bring my duty free items on the plane. 

Now I was starting to remember the inefficiency of the Spanish system :)

But I made it to Barcelona and spent an amazing weekend celebrating the union of one of my very best friends to her amazing now-husband and acting as her Maid of Honor.  (Which will be a blog in itself).

Days later I made my way back to Madrid to start the real reunion.  I had to get my wits about me as many things have changed in the capital this past year or so... including the public transport system, tourist passes, on-going strikes/ protests and comings of old friends/ colleagues. Not to mention transitioning back into the Castellano accent.

I had a tight itinerary pretty well mapped out in the weeks preceding my departure.  My days were filled with touristy things like trips to my favorite museos and parks, luncheons with friends and ex-clients and relaxing ME-time which mostly meant shopping.  However, once 6 in the 'afternoon' rolled around, I was running from restaurant to bar to house dinners to parties.  By the end, I needed a vacation from my vacation!

I spent my nights cozied up with my dear friend Melissa and her demon-spawn of a cat.  (I joke, I joke....kinda!)  She gave me a spare key to her apartment and was able to come and go as I pleased.  Thank you Mely for being an amazing hostess that week!

Of course, I made the trek to Toledo and spent the afternoon in all the old places.  Reliving some of the moments that truly changed my life.  I visited my university, ate lunch at my favorite restaurant, stocked up on some souvenirs and finished it off with a 'clara con limon' at my favorite bar.  All in all an amazing and necessary trip. Never underestimate the power of nostalgia!

I'll share some of my highlights as well:

My friend Steph, who moved back to the States the year before I did and now lives in Wisconsin, was also visiting because of the wedding.  So we planned a dual reunion outing with her friends and old mutual colleagues at a local bar.  It was like neither of us had left.  We caught up on the small things (though most everything is already on facebook that anyone would need to know) and told stories of past shenanigans and fun times.  We shared raciones of tortillas de patata, salchichas, queso de cabra and lots LOTS of beer.  It was nothing crazy; just a group of adults, mostly ex-pats remembering different days.  It was a highlight because it showed me that even after being away a year, I could still fit in and connect to that important part of my life.

I came to tears twice on this trip... once was watching Michelle get married.  The other was the night I had dinner with my favorite little student, Ali and her family. 
I spoke of them in previous blogs.  I never liked teaching children... but a class had come up a few blocks from where I was living and it fit perfectly into my schedule; so I figured, why not? She was a little less than 3 when started classes.  Her baby sister was a few months old.  We went to the park, played flash cards and drew with crayons.  It was tough but I enjoyed every minute of it.   When I left Spain, saying goodbye to her was one of the hardest things I had to do.  I remember distinctly that she was being distant during our last goodbye.  Typically she held onto my leg as I walked out the door.  Her father Damian said, "I don't think she realizes this is the last time she'll see you for a long while."  To which Raquel, his wife and Ali's mother replied, "No.  I think she understands very well and that's why she doesn't want to say anything."  I cried the entire walk home that night.
So when they agreed to see me and invited me over for dinner, I had my reservations.  Would Ali even remember me? How would I feel seeing her again after more than a year?  As Raquel buzzed me into their complex and I climbed the stairs to their apartment, I heard what sounded like cattle and a cat going crazy.  Then I made out voices and realized that it was Ali jumping up and down and heard Damian, her father, laughing and saying, "Yes Ali... Brittany is coming! Brittany is coming!"  As soon as I knocked on the door I heard loud shrieks and even more laughter and was greeted by the biggest smiles I could have imagined! We spent the next 2 hours playing and cooking dinner.  I got caught up with Damian and Raquel who had become good friends over the past 2 and a half years.  I asked if they found a new teacher to replace me.  They said they tried 2 others but no one that really connected with Ali like I had.  And I gawked at how big Ali and her then baby sister Alba had gotten over that year.  It was an incredible night.  Leaving once again was very difficult and I she,d a few tears saying goodbye but happier tears when Ali said to me, "I see you soon, Bri-nee!"
I knew at that moment that I would see her again and she would remember me because I did have an impact on her life. 

I could go on for paragraphs and paragraphs about all the things I got to do.... but the point of this blog was to answer that question that had been plaguing my subconscious for months. 

Do I regret leaving Spain?

My answer is No.  I love Spain and the life I led with every ounce of my soul.  I made memories and experienced things that people can only dream of.  And that's because I lived a dream.  It was my life, but I knew that I would come back to the States one day.  Do I wish I had more time there... yes. There are things that I miss every day about my old life but there are things here in Chicago that I wouldn't trade for anything.  Going back helped me remember the small things that I disliked about life abroad and the reasons why I missed home so much.  This trip helped me realize that spending a few days there would be sufficient to get my fix.

But in the end, probably the most remarkable thing about this whole journey and the feeling that I was dreadind to discover was that I was happy to be going back to the States.  Getting on the plane, I didn't feel extreme sadness for leaving Madrid and my old life; I was looking forward to getting back home and telling everyone about the amazing vacation I had.  And that is how I discovered my place on this earth.  My life is in Chicago and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Cheers!