Song lyrics:
I'm so bored, and I hate Spain.
All I want is to leave this place and never return again.
" "
" "
(Written to a punk rock melody by fellow abroad students and me, November, 2001)
After a month and a half of the same streets, the same classes, the same local dress and attitude, I was ready to return home. I missed the States, my girlfriend, my family, and the comforts of the predictable life that I had grown into. The result of such saddened longing and frustrations was the song above (though the rest of the lyrics have since been forgotten in the foggy archives of my mind).
In looking back, I was playing the sour grape. After all, what an amazing opportunity: study abroad; four days on, three days off; a historical city; brilliant peers and teachers; and so many other highlights to a vibrant city and country. And my classes: Spanish Cinema; Spanish Language; and Introduction to Photography. Our teachers were from our home state of (northern) California, and my peers were from a triad of community/junior colleges in NorCal.
Oh, and add to this: Tasty food; authentic and caring people; beautiful and lovely ladies; ....
I guess my reaction was valid, given my rookie status as international traveler.
Fast forward a decade and a year.
Our entrance to the Sandstone city was nothing short of awe-striking. My mom "uh'd and aw'd" as we both reveled in the brilliant vista of two cathedrals pressed on green hills and blue sky background. There are few views as pleasing and surreal as this one, and the second entrance to the city was almost as good as the first.
I was instantly thrown back into reminiscence zone as the feelings and memories poured out of me. How wonderful it is to have the opportunity to return to a city that previously housed my high hopes, painful insecurities, an opening up to wonder of the world, and the whole gamut of emotions and experiences. These memories, formerly stunted or forgotten, now reappeared in a flash.
I remembered spending time with Heather, my good friend from California. We'd walk through the whole city, discovering bars, restaurants, and parks. All the while, flirting, subtly, with one another. That takes me to the other girl that I feel for: the girl at Mandala Restaurant; a vibrantly creative take on tapas and other Spanish fare. Was the ravishingly lovely short-haired Salamancan beauty still there?! I though to myself, almost overtaken with childlike curiosity.
And, the school! Was it still thriving as it had been when my thirty-something mates and myself had attended it?! I'll also never forget that other Spanish beauty: Emma; the secretary from the most exalted reaches of the sky. All this made me ponder. Why is it that I wasn't single during those long, emotional, lustful, and world-/mind-expanding sixty days?? And rather, opting to stay the course with my controlling, insecure, cute, and equally-whipped Chicana girlfriend way back in little Lake Tahoe, CA. Wow! Sometimes we live and don't make the proper choice! And, sometimes we continue on for many years without waking up to the possibilities that are out there... I learned my lesson. Period.
So what is beautiful about this city, in particular? Well, I rediscovered all of this while my mom and I meandered our way to the city center in the company of a lovely University of Salamanca student named Francesca. She sparked up the conversation immediately after we all set foot on solid ground at the Salamanca bus station.
"Where are you from?" She inquired.
"From California."
"Cool! I've always heard amazing things about California." She affirmed as her eyes dazzled in excitement.
"Where are you from?" I asked.
"From the outskirts of London. Stevenage; do you know it?
I respond, "Yes, I've seen the football team play on T.V...."
Wow! she exclaimed. "Very few people know it! I'm impressed!"
She went on to say, "I miss it. I'm actually returning from there after a week's trip stay with my family."
...
I knew that my mom and I had run into a "good egg," and that my mom's initiation to Salamanca was going to be a complete one given our giddy Londoner guide.
Francesca, my mom, and I walked our way up into the old part of the city where the real action is. Like most cities that have a concentric shape/configuration (read: European style), the old city is markedly contained within the outstretching in all directions of the new city. As we walked, I was amazed by the way in which Salamanca had expanded in the eleven years hiatus I had taken. I would say, upon view and guess, that the city is 10-15% larger than it had been when I was an abroad student there. Though it was significant, the growth of buildings, one could still bike around the city in two or three hours.
We headed straight for the Plaza Mayor, while wasting no time. Little time was wasted in terms of talking as well. Our little Francesca could chat it up three kilometers-a-minute, to be sure! She was wickedly intelligent, insightful, and sweet. If she were a few years older, she would've been a prime candidate for yours truly!
The road that led to the Plaza Mayor was an enticing one: cobblestone walking streets; sandstone buildings in typical European design (two stories - store/business on the ground level; residence on the top); memorable signs all done in traditional Castilla y Leon style; and attractive/well-dressed pedestrians and standbys.
I could feel the excitement of seeing the Plaza build up as memories shot back through my mind of all of the experiences that I had held onto for so long: meeting my peers below the Plaza's clock; eating tapas and drinking beer in the many eateries; sitting on the interspersed stone benches watching the passersby; etc.
I gave my mom warning of the sight to behold just steps ahead. Entering this Plaza is like entering the Coliseum on fight day, seeing the first glance of the baseball diamond at the World Series, or hearing the first note at a Yanni concert! Upps...What?! Did he really?? ... Maybe not that last one. Moving on...
And there it was: the contrast between blue sky above the buildings and earthy sand color of the structures; three-storied square shape; nucleus of the city; open and alive businesses and walkspaces. How wonderful it was to return to the most important and beautiful site of the city. Hoards of people the world over come for this very reason. It was Cultural City of Europe in 2002, the years before I was there; and, for good reason.
We headed off to other parts of the city that draw attention for much the same rationale that the Plaza attracts so much traffic.
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