Day 29: A ride on a moto makes everything better

Ever since that afternoon serenade in the park with the little man framed in lush green tree branches quietly sitting on a bench with his guitar, playing "Tears from Heaven," I've known what I've needed to do: Remain open to serendipitous opportunity at all times. And every time a little chunk of serendipitous opportunity serenely floats to me from above, I smile and before I can even ask if this can even get any crazier, he gives me his silly monkey face back and says, "Oh... *giggle* Just wait!"

I spent my Monday morning at school completely and utterly pissed off. Last night put me in a mood that was not just about to falter until some serious damage control was underway. I went to Cristina, my CIEE director, to chat about things with her (despite an opinion I valued that insinuated that doing so would show a great deal of immaturity on my part -- it took a small amount of resolve to listen to myself on this one and say, "Hey! The fact that you're making yourself heard is something to be entirely proud of. It's okay to do it in any way that you feel most comfortable." Special thanks to Martin for giving me that lesson back when I was 17...).

Cristina is just the sweetest lady you've ever met and despite the whole distraught harangue being in Spanish, she listened carefully and understood me very well. She opined that it seemed that everything was most likely a big misunderstanding and that I should not worry nor stress myself out about it. That she would call to talk things over for me and I would have to speak for myself, as well, later that afternoon, but that expressing myself so well was exactly what I needed to do to quickly get things resolved and back to their normal state of happiness and tranquility. <3

And she was right. When I got home mi madre came into my room to talk things over with me after having received the call from Cristina and although I cannot express how tricky delicate, emotional and potentially confrontational conversations are in a foreign language, I can express that a resolution to such a conversation seems to universally be a sweet little hug. Hee hee.

I was given extra chocolate from the chocolate stash (we Americans swear every Spanish family has a secret Chocolate stash in their home) and we all watched Entre Fantasmas while eating left over Sukiyaki together followed by the typical infusion (tea). Tranquility and normalcy restored! Phew - that wasn't SO hard.

An hour later and I was all showered and ready to leave for my meeting with the director of the Masters Program here at Franklin Institute at the Universidad de Alcala. I was running a bit late, so when mi padre knocked on my door and asked if I wouldn't like a ride to my meeting, I was delighted. He smiled and added (translated loosely), "And by ride, I mean a ride on the back of my motorcycle. Might wanna change your clothes - a dress isn't gonna work."

Jesus' moto is so cute! Riding on the back of a moto with freshly showered hair is even better, 'cause it's all dry by the time you get to your destination - haha.

May I just say that the thrill of riding on the back of a little moto around a quaint European town is incomparable to any feeling I have ever experienced. There's only one way I can express the feeling (omit the blatant flirtatious part with the cute young boy - that's extraneous to the story... I was riding around town with mi padre for goodness sakes). I've used this analogy once before in regards to just how I feel here in Europe, but prepare yourselves:

Yes. You just watched that. And yes, watching that adorable clip of Hilary Duff made you feel what I was feeling way better than any paragraph I could possibly come up with on the matter. Hell yes. Thank you, "Lizzie McGuire Movie."

Anywhoozle... the entire purpose in beginning my blog as I did lies in the following few paragraphs:

My meeting with Iulia, the director of my Master's program, went splendidly. Before this meeting I hardly knew a thing about the program, except that it was mostly free and generally sounded too good to be true.


A few weeks back I'd emailed Cristina, innocently enough, asking if she had any ideas of how I could remain in Spain for awhile. She wrote write back and informed me of an interesting opportunity that had just opened up; a girl who was supposed to be in the Masters program that begins this September had at the last minute withdrawn and a spot had suddenly opened up. If I were to get my rear in gear and fill out paperwork like a mofo, I could have a shot at the spot.

Cue me looking up at the sky and being like, "Really, Conor? This is absurd." and receiving a sly wink in response.

Today's meeting was about what exactly the program consists of: I get to choose from three programs (I'm choosing Master's of Bilingual and Multicultural Education); classes will be taught both online and at the Universidad of Alcala; I will be an intern / TA in a public school in Madrid and will work between 18-24 hours per week in the classroom with young children learning English; I will be paid monthly for the internship and will have my tuition waived thanks to a scholarship provided by the Universidad; the program is only one academic year long and I will thus have earned my bachelor's degree and a master's degree all within four years (w.t.h?); I will need to get my rear in gear to complete the paperwork and apply for my visa ASAP.

Cue me looking up at the sky and being like, "Are you for real?" and receiving a barely audible, "Oh, this is just your starting point here. You won't even BELIEVE where this is all heading..." from a serious little red-headed hippie.

My home for the next year?

A few months ago I was sitting my my bright room in my Barbie Mansion Castle stalking people from high school on my Android, marveling at the fact that a surprising number of them had gotten exactly where they wanted to get when we were in French class sketching out our dreams instead of paying attention to verb conjugations. And now? It's starting to seem like I'm one of them. Part of me is starting to feel undeserving, like maybe I should slow down and be a little freaked out... Like riding this wave at full force is gonna land me beached like some over-zealous orca. But then, the other part of me remembers this one line from the novel, "The Mermaid Chair" that stuck with me for years:

"I could even feel how perishable

all my moments really were,

how all my life they had come to me

begging to be lived,

to be cherished even,

and the impassive way I’d treated them."

And this is exactly what I am experiencing. I looked at my blog today and wondered how have I had so much to write about each day? I could have never kept even my own interest had I decided to embark on this project/journey in Madison. But the thing is, moments really are perishable and here they are begging to be lived with such unwavering resolve that I have no choice but to cherish them!

I haven't opened my personal Bible of Sanguinity until just a few seconds ago, and going over all of the things I began underlining December 2009 and seeing how things have turned out since then is awe-inspiring. I opened the book for one particular quote beginning on page 222:

"For it means that everything that is going to happen to you in the future is, likewise, for your own good.
This radically alters your idea about future change. You no longer have to fear it. And by not fearing it you take control of it, because you now feel free to take the actions and decisions that are most desirous, rather than always opting for those that are most cautious.
It is desire that ignites the engine of creation, not caution. Never, never caution. Always, always desire.
Look to see what you most desire in your life, then ride that feeling all the way to creation."

And so, as per usual, my Bible of Sanguinity answers my own doubt; I'm all in.

XOXO

Jet-set Cupcake