A Spanish graduation goes a little something like this

My seniors graduated on Thursday May 16.  The weird thing was that, although it had the finality and pomp and circumstance of an American high school graduation, the kids still came to school after the date for an occasional review session, make-up exam, or the school party in June! So basically, I got all emotional for nothing.

I showed up on Thursday evening and sat by myself on the right side of the auditorium.  I didn't want to take up seats in the middle for the parents, and I sure as heck wasn't going to sit on the left with the other teachers.  One of the juniors (who should have been graduating with this year's class) was passing out graduation programs, and she came over and told me, "Niki! You look so alone! Me and my friend are coming to sit with you!" She helped me through the ceremony because most of it was a mass, and I had no idea when to sit, stand, or kiss people.  The two us sat there like babies crying.  After the ceremony, we all took pictures in the auditorium and then went down to the cafeteria to eat and take more pictures.  I met a lot of parents, siblings, and family members, and soon enough the kids started asking me to come with them to the dinner they had organized at a restaurant downtown.  I really didn't want to bring the "awkward teacher" mood to their big night out, so I declined.  One of the girls got down on her knees in the middle of the cafeteria, begging me to come, so I finally said I would come to the "night out" portion.  I would meet them at 11-ish at the bar where we would be celebrating.

We all headed over to the train station.  I found out about a lot of relationships...and a lot of information about their sexual orientations that I really didn't need to know.  We took the train ride together and I held my ground about the "no dinner" thing.  I went home, changed into more appropriate "going out" clothes that I would never be caught dead in with the teachers at my school, and headed to the Campamento metro stop.  I was texting one of the girls to make sure I was in the right place, and then I saw one senior boy waiting at the metro with his girlfriend.  The three of us waited about 20 minutes before hearing the rest of the gaggle coming up the stairs, and we proceeded to do the slow clap as they had all shown up 25 minutes late.

We headed to the bar.  They had reserved the whole downstairs area and I actually had to show my ID.  The kids who were under 18 had their hands stamped, but it was just for appearance's sake.  Everyone was drinking, dancing, taking pictures, drunkenly telling me how great my class was, and singing at me every time I tried to sit down.  They all made their way outside by about 3:30 for some reason.  I don't know why, but the party almost always makes its way to the street in Madrid.  It's so safe here, so I never feel weird sitting outside at such a late hour.  Before I knew it, I was doing damage control, picking up shoes, reuniting people with lost friends, and just worrying about their safety in general.  I turned around at one point, and a group of the boys were smoking cigars, people were setting off firecrackers, and cops were slowly driving towards us. I knew I would have to find a cab home soon because I wasn't going to pull an all-nighter with them.  I hadn't seen a cab since we all met up at the metro stop, but I couldn't figure out how to get back to said metro stop, so when I saw a cab dropping someone off at a nearby apartment, I ran into the street with one of my girls and flagged it down like a crazy person.  Once I realized it was coming for me, I did my happy dance in the street. I had given so many hugs and kisses that day, I'm sure I somehow said goodbye to all 50 of them at some point. 

Throughout the night, some of the kids had been checking in on me, asking me how I was doing.  I remember telling one of the girls, "I'm not sure if this is the best night of my life....or the worst" because it all seemed so crazy at the time.  I would never have been able to do what I had done if I were living in the U.S.  I also would never have had this experience if I had stayed put in elementary school.  After some careful thought and consideration, the final verdict is that it was the best night I've had in Madrid in the past 3 years.  I wouldn't have changed a thing.   

A most Spanish day

A few weeks ago (Sat. June 1 to be exact) I had a full 24 hours that really sums up what it's like living in Spain (in my experience, at least).

at the beginning of our hike

Janette and I woke up early to go meet our friend Deseree at the bus station.  We took an extremely long bus ride to a pueblo called Manzanares el Real.  Because of the traffic, our bus got in late and we missed the shuttle bus that takes you from Manzanares to the entrance of the national park. We got a map from the tourist office, and some food from the supermarket, and began what we thought would be a 45 minute walk to the beautiful oasis of La Pedriza.  After 45 minutes, we arrived at a gravel parking lot. We thought, "Hey, this must be the national park entrance!" Nope. We approached a 40-something-year old tan gentleman with a walkie-talkie, named Manolo. He told us we were at the beginning of the road that takes 45 minutes to get to the park.  He was super nice, telling us to watch out for snakes and put on sunscreen, and Janette tried to give away her crappy chicharron, but he wouldn't accept.  After about an hour more of hiking, we knew we were in the park, but we stopped at a little chiringuito restaurant to ask for directions to La Pedriza.  They told us we were another HOUR away.  After even more hiking, we decided to ask a couple passing by on the hiking path how to get back down to the place where the shuttle bus would pick us up.  They didn't know, but they called over an elderly couple who told us to cross the river to our left and head back down the mountain. Okay.  Clearly, I thought, we would find the most shallow part of the river to cross over before committing to anything. Nope! There went Deseree like a spider monkey crossing the river and almost dying in the process. I got halfway across before a group of young Spanish guys were nice enough to hold out a big tree branch for me to clamber my way up the river bank like a buffoon.  We spent over an hour trying to find the bus stop (Janette even peeing in the woods because it took too long), ran into a herd of bulls migrating through the forest, and finally decided to jokingly stick out our thumbs to an elderly couple getting into their car in one of the random parking lots.  The old man rolled down his window, asked if we needed help, and the next thing I knew, we were three lost girls getting a ride all the way back to Manzanares with a lovely older couple from Valladolid. AND WE DIDN'T DIE!

part of the 1st floor at Kapital

We were home from the hike by 7 or 8pm, and I had to jump in the shower and get ready for a night out.  I headed over to a joint birthday/housewarming party where I was thankfully the only English speaker.  I had a great time with all the guys there.  It was definitely a no-frills, no messy drunk girls, kind of thing.  After a while, everyone started talking about going out to a discoteca (which always happens at every Spanish party even if they say it's going to be just a house party).  The group majority voted on Kapital, the 7-story discoteca downtown that is full of tourists, 18 year olds, and study abroad students.  I thought it would be horrible, but we got a booth and 2 bottles and were seated on one of the balconies and actually had a great time.  We got there around 4:30am and left around 6:30am.  We did get to go down to the main dance floor right before closing, thank god.  For me, that's the whole point of going to a club.  I could care less about being VIP and having space.  I want to dance down on the floor with all the other penniless suckers. We left and had the typical drawn out, slightly drunk, standing-on-the-sidewalk-and-blocking-everyone-else kind of conversation.  IT. WAS. GREAT. The boys inexplicably showed up out of nowhere with a pizza and most of them turned out to be the complement giving, hugging and kissing type, which doesn't hurt when you're saying goodbye to them at 7am outside the metro station and you feel gross and sweaty.

That, to me, embodies my Spanish experience thus far.  I attempted to do a cute, while also active, day trip with some friends, got lost, experienced a lot of kindness from strangers, went to a party where I met some new people, danced until 6:30am, and was in bed by 8am on Sunday...as it should be, right?