Very early Friday morning, I said “Adios” to my hostel (goodbye bunk bed and my 9 other roommates) and began my journey to Seville, where I would be meeting my host family at the airport. I use the word journey quite literally, because as far as airport and airplane experiences go, it felt like quite the trip. I have flown by myself several times before (i.e, a few days ago) but I had never entered and departed from an international airport alone. I was somewhat (not really) familiar with Barcelona’s El Prat airport, so I thought it was going to be an easy experience, but I was kind of wrong. It might’ve been the fact that it was 5 am and I was running on maybe 10 hours of sleep combined in the past 4 days, but it was just a very disorienting experience. I had trouble checking into my flight and got a lot of disapproving looks from the airline employees for the fact that I had two suitcases and didn’t prepay them. I didn’t know I was supposed to. And then going through security was kind of stressful because I don’t speak that much Spanish yet. Several people at points were speaking to me directly and I had no clue what they were saying. In retrospect it was fine but still felt stressful at the time. After finally getting through security I had about 2 hours to kill before my flight. One thing I did not like at the airport was how they do not display which gate your flight is at until 20 minutes before the flight boards. I knew which terminal I was supposed to go to, but I had no idea where in the terminal to be until last minute. I don’t know if that is a normal airport thing, but I had never seen that in the few airports I have been in previously. And then when the gate was announced, everyone in that flight would wait in a wicked long line that would snake through the terminal to board, rather than in America where they usually call you by boarding group. Also, the flight was crowded, I had the middle seat and there was an (adorable) crying baby behind me. All these things I admit are very small, not important issues but together, plus me being anxious about meeting my host family just felt monumental at the time.
After that was over (thank goodness) I gathered my luggage at the Seville airport and went out to meet my host family in the terminal. There to greet me was my host mother, Marta and my two host sisters, Cristina (11) and Elena (8). I had been under the impression that we would be going straight to their house (my home too, I guess for the year) in Aljaraque, Huelva but found out that instead we would be going to my host father’s parent’s house in Fuenteheridos, Huelva until Sunday. They had been staying there since earlier in the week, in preparation for a regional religious/ cultural festival that would be happening this weekend. It was called: “Romeria de Nuestra Senora de los Angeles”, which can be described as a religious pilgrimage. We would be going to that all day on Saturday, but on Friday, they just showed me the spot that it was going to take place at. After that, we headed my host father’s parent’s house (going to call them Abuelo and Abuela in this) for lunch. Fuenteheridos is a very small village with all white old stone building and narrow cobble stone streets. It is so quiet and beautiful. Their house was beautiful too. It is a very traditional Spanish home with stone floors and a patioed garden. The view from the house looks over the entire town and surrounding mountains. I would love to live here. Even though it is a huge house, it was packed full of people. Many members of their extended family are also staying here for the festival, about 12 of us all together. So, my host parents kindly booked me a hotel room in this cute old fashioned hotel next door so I wouldn’t have to share a room with the many kids that are here. After spending 3 nights in a crowded hostel, I am so grateful for the single room.
If I could summarize my experience so far with this family, it would be how hospitable they are. Every single one of them has made me so welcome and included. Some of them speak some English, but a lot of them only speak Spanish (the grandparents don’t speak any English at all). They all seem very interested in who I am and why exactly I am here, and they have been so helpful with assisting my Spanish. I must’ve asked how to say the same words over and over again, but they don’t seem to mind (I hope). The kids especially have been very helpful in translating some things for me, and I have been helping them already with their English (I mean, in a few days I am technically going to be one of their teachers at school). They all have been so nice so far and I can’t wait to spend more time with them. I now have “familia” not just in Aljaraque but in Huelva, Seville and Fuenteheridos!
On to the festival!
Annually, Fuenteheridos and the surrounding villages celebrate “Romeria de Nuestra Se ora de los Ángeles” (Pe a de Arias Montano). Everyone dresses up in traditional Spanish outfits (traje de flamenco), and meets in the village square with their horses and carriages. Then, everyone in the villages in a parade like fashion either ride or walk the 5km up the mountain to the sanctuary. Everyone packs food and drinks and they make frequent stops along the way (expect a blog post in the future about my new love for Spanish food). There is music playing, people singing and the energy in the air is contagious. Most of my host family were dressed up in the traditional clothes, but they gave me some flowers to wear in my hair and the village pendant to wear around my neck (every village in the festival has their own unique color and pendant. Ours was red and white). The walk to the sanctuary took about two hours, but it wasn’t too tiring since we were going very slow and this morning was unseasonably cool, which I was totally fine with. I mainly walked with Cristina, Elena and their cousin Paloma, and all 3 girls gave me quite the Spanish lesson. I have honestly learned more Spanish in past 24 hours than I have in the past few months studying the language. Once we got to the place where the festival was at, it made a lot more sense what we were going to be doing. Each village had their own area in this picnic ground area on the side of the mountain, looking out to all the surrounding villages. That is where they would set up their tables, chairs and blankets and have a huge potluck meal. There were vendors selling food and souvenirs, and music playing. It kind of felt like a fair but without the rides and shows. In the center of it all was this old historical looking chapel/ sanctuary. Outside it, each village had a decorated alter of sorts that was presented in a procession. My host family tried to explain it and its meaning and religious connotation, but I only understood a little bit. It was very cool though to watch. As each alter would come by, carried by several men, parents with young children and babies would try to put their baby on it, which I found out was some sort of blessing for the baby and it was a tradition to do so for every babies first time at this festival.
After a long day of eating, walking around and trying to understand the Spanish around me, I ended up leaving the festival a bit early with Abuelo and Abuela, who were heading back to the house because they were tired. My favorite Spanish phrase the past few days has been, “estoy muy cansada”, which means, “I am very tired”. My host family has been very kind in understanding that this is all somewhat overwhelming for me and that I am still getting use to Spanish time. While I didn’t expect to experience a traditional Spanish festival/holiday right away, I am so glad I was able to. It was an awesome and truly enjoyable experience.
Jordan's ESL Adventure 