Tag Archives: Chicago

Say Hello to my Mother: Guest Post

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Before I let my mother take the reins, I’d just like to say that I hounded her to do this, and she finally obliged. She wants to be crazy rich and famous, so naturally that means she’ll get her start on Y Mucho Más. You may not realize this, but I’m, like, totally famous. (NOT.)

Here’s Donna. (You may also wish to read this entry, because she’s great.)

Funny how it seems like just yesterday we drove to Chicago to take Kaley to O’Hare airport for her first international flight. She was studying abroad in Toledo, Spain, for the spring semester of her junior year in college. She was so excited. I was jealous but happy for her. I loved the thought of going to Europe and living and studying in another culture. My friends and fellow parents often comment on how it seems that just one generation made the difference in the popular trend of traveling abroad. When I was growing up, it was rare for anyone unmarried or below the age of thirty (old enough to pay for an expensive trip on their own) to study abroad or even travel to another country.

As we said our goodbyes, Kaley never looked back. Her dad and I (especially her dad) had a few tears. I knew I was going to miss my daughter and she too would miss us. She was ready to go and experience the world. I was ready too, because I hoped she would learn to appreciate home.

Kaley made friends quickly, but in some of her early phone calls, she expressed her feelings of loneliness. Once we made definite plans for her father and I to travel to Spain during her “spring break,” she had something to look forward to and quickly acclimated herself to Spanish living. Our Skype discussions were filled with tales of travel and late night escapades. She told us that Spaniards ate dinner late and stayed out late. We found out it was definitely true on our first visit to Spain.

We flew to Spain during Holy Week (the week before Easter). We had the best tour guide, one named Kaley. I bragged that she was so good at Spanish and I insisted she was fluent. She adamantly argued with me that she was not, but two years when later we went back to Spain … she agreed with me that she was indeed fluent in Spanish.

In the late spring of her senior year of college, Kaley accepted an internship with a mission-based group in Salamanca, Spain. She was ready to return to Spain and live for the entire year. In early September we again drove her to Chicago with a one-way flight to Spain. She had insisted she wasn’t coming home for Christmas, as it was too expensive. By the time December rolled around, she had changed her mind and booked a ticket to be with her family during the holidays. We didn’t object too much.

In late September during one of our Skype visits, Kaley informed me that she “accidentally” flirted with a guy. She stated, “I don’t know what to do about it.” She wasn’t supposed to be dating anyone during the internship, per the rules of her workplace. I thought she sounded genuinely concerned that she broke the rules. However, she later was rather pleased that she had broken the rule. In a few short weeks she called to say she was dating this awesome, cute Spanish guy. She was swooning over the phone. As I am a mom, I quickly warned her that dating someone from another country could become very complicated. I think she reverted back to being a teenager at that moment. She exclaimed, ”Oh Mom, that is silly, it is just the same as dating someone in the US.” My response was to quietly say a prayer, as I had always done as I watched her grow up. I asked God to bless whatever was in His will and please don’t break my little girl’s heart. God must have had Mario in His plan because two years later he’s stuck around.

Still here, two years later.

Kaley has spent about two years off and on in Spain. There have been ups and downs. She has been homesick, she has spent more time in the Madrid airport than anyone should have to, and she’s learned to live without the things she loves here in the States. She has been taken into and loved by a wonderful Spanish man and his family. She has learned to cook delicious Spanish food. She has traveled to many places in Europe and learned to appreciate the wonderful history and culture of Spain and the rest of Europe.

This culture includes cheese. Lots of cheese.

As I contemplate the future, I know that Kaley is in good hands. She loves her Spanish family and cannot say enough good things about them. I feel good when I know Kaley has “parents” in Spain. Jesús and Pepita worry about her when I’m not there to do it [Kaley: and cook for me too!]. When she is not in Spain, she misses them like she would miss her family if she were away from them. I want to thank Kaley for bringing Mario into our family. It wouldn’t be the same without him. We feel like we have gained a son as well as a new country.

(Sorry so blurry.)

L-R: Mario, Jesús (Mario’s dad), Randy (my dad), Pepita (Mario’s mom), Carol (my grandma), Donna (my mom), Richard (my grandpa), me

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The Worst Part of Traveling is Traveling

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I like traveling. I also hate it.

Now, before you write me off as completely crazy (I take it for granted you already regard me as slightly), let me explain.

I like traveling. I like this part:

You know, doing something you’ve only seen in movies. For me, this involved, yes, getting my picture taken inside a red phone booth. Forgive me, I lose all fear of being a cliched traveler when confronted by such things. Mario is fascinated by other sorts of things. See:

Yes, yellow school buses. For us, they are ubiquitous and not particularly noteworthy. For him, they are were something he had only seen in movies.

Also, this:

You know, finding myself in places I had only seen in photos. The Arc de Triomphe, the glass pyramid at the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, La Sagrada Familia, Parc Guell, etc.

I love learning new languages, eating new foods, soaking up the culture. My mom experienced a fried calamari sandwich in Madrid. I’ve eaten steak tartare in France, jamón serrano in Spain, and super fresh prawns in Lisbon.

You may be thinking, Um, Kaley, it really seems as though you do like traveling. All of it. What gives? 

What gives, my friend? I’ll tell you what gives: I hate the part in which I actually have to get from place. I don’t particularly love buses, airpots, and impatient tourists waiting in long lines. I could deal without Ryan Air’s famous “customer service.” I really don’t care for jet lag.

(Side note: this graphic is so true!)

In about a week (October 25th, to be exact), Mario will be packing his bags into a car, then a bus, and finally a plane to cross the Atlantic. Once he has done all that, he’ll arrive 8 hours later, only to pack his bags into yet another vehicle and drive 3 more hours. He’ll finally arrive at my house, something like 18 hours after he started. And he’s lucky. It’s a direct flight.

I’ve mentioned on occasion that I wouldn’t mind teleportation being invented. Any day now.

Seriously.

Reasons (Never) to Date a Foreigner

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  1. Visa
    Visa issues. Being together gets a lot more complicated. Unless, of course, you’re both members of the EU. If so, whoop dee doo for you. (I hate you.) Someone either has to get a work visa (difficult), a student visa (not so difficult, but expensive), or a marriage visa (big time commitment; hope you don’t have problems with that). Last year, I worked as a Conversation & Language Assistant, which allowed me to be there legally, but this year I’m back in the good old US of A, and trying to find some way to get him over here without resorting to packing him in my suitcase with plenty of food and beverages so they’ll just never know.
  2. Stupid questions. Perhaps I’m impatient, but we’re normal people too, and just because my boyfriend is from another country doesn’t make us any more interesting. However, people don’t tend to agree with me and love to ask the same questions over and over, “When is he coming over?” “Why isn’t he here?” “What language do you two speak when you’re together?” “Does he like America?” “Does he speak English?” “Does he like spicy food? He must love burritos, right?” Uuuuuuuugh.

  3. Airplanes[Source]
    Planes and airports. Back in the day (okay, like four years ago), plane travel was exciting because, well, I rarely had to do it. Nowadays, I feel like I’m on a plane or waiting in an airport every other month. I hate airports and planes. I would not hate it so much if I had lots of money and rode in first class, but alas, that is not the case. If you’ve ever ridden coach, you know what I’m talking about: 8 hours on a plane with your elbows brushing your overly talkative neighbor is just not my cup of tea. I’ve taken the same Madrid-Chicago flight so many times I start repeating this phrase in my sleep: “Tea? ¿Té? Coffee? ¿Café?” and can tell you the breakfast menu by heart (croissant sandwich, cup of fruit, Kit Kat bar, orange juice).
Now that I’ve told you the bad things, here are the good ones.
  1. Sexy/cute accents. Totally superficial, but totally true. I love the Spanish accent and Mario, although fluent and with a rather impressive accent, still slips into his (what we call) Espainish accent from time to time and I love it. I find his English to be adorable, especially when he slips up. I hope he doesn’t find it patronizing, but when he uses double negatives it’s cute. (However, native speakers + double negatives = ew.) And when he speaks Spanish, oh my. Sexy as hell…
  2. Culture
    Introducing them to your culture. It’s really fun to show off all the fun things about American culture: barbecues, baseball, fireworks, nature, family, and friends. I love introducing Mario to what it’s really like to live in the States. Some of it is like the movies (yellow school buses), but some of it isn’t (cheerleaders always being stuck up snobs).
  3. Learning a new language. As I’ve written before, learning a new language is difficult, so why not try it with a real live personal dictionary?
  4. People think your life is exciting. Not that my life is boring, but it’s really a very normal(ish) life. But people tend to think it’s very intriguing. Can’t say I mind that.
  5. Two
    Two cultures. You will always have two different cultures, two different languages in which to express yourself. I sometimes struggle to find the right English word, something I never foresaw happening. If you choose to have children, you can raise them bicultural and bilingual, a prospect I find very exciting and potentially jealousy-inducing (what I wouldn’t give to be truly bilingual!).

Fun with Amtrak

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I firmly believe that, in Europe at least, trains are the best, most comfortable way to travel. Sure, for long distances they take longer than planes, but once you factor in the travel to and from the airport, the waiting, the security, the baggage carousel – well, it adds up. On a train, you arrive ten minutes early, get on, and go. There’s hardly ever any delays. The seats are also bigger. I’m almost 5’11″, and it’s nice to have a bit of room to stretch out.

In Spain, the major line is Renfe. There are the typical trains, which aren’ts slow, but certainly aren’t bullet trains. However, my absolute favorite way to travel is the Ave. The word ave in Spanish means bird. These trains go up to 186 mph. On the line from Madrid to Seville (in southern Spain, a journey of several hours), the line guarantees arrival within five (!!) minutes of the advertised time and offers a full refund if it is delayed beyond that time window. But only 0.16% have this happen to them! As you can see, they are quite reliable.

I had never ridden on the Amtrak from my hometown to Chicago before last year, when I went to pick up the boyfriend at O’Hare airport. The morning train was uneventful and we arrived early. There is no real station here, just a place where the train stops briefly to pick up any passengers that might be waiting there at 6:50am, the only time the train comes. Union Station in Chicago, however, is another story. I think madhouse would be an appropriate way to describe it. People are absolutely everywhere. There is a line to get on the train starting around 20 minutes before the scheduled departure. All of this chaos contributes to a general sentiment of stress and haste. I too felt the need to line up, even if it was entirely unnecessary.

On my first trip, we weren’t delayed, but once we left, we actually stopped and went backward. I kid you not. You may not find this crazy, but in Europe, they do. Their system is so well planned that things like that just do not happen. The second trip was similar, but our train was delayed ~30 minutes. After leaving, we stopped several times to wait for who knows what. We arrived home two hours late. This is not unusual. Unfortunately. I suppose we are so used to delays in travel (with airplanes and the like) that not many complain. But once you go Europen rail, you can hardly go back.

I guess it’s a good thing I’ll be heading across the pond in a few weeks. Yes, my visa came! I am very excited, more so because Mario is here, learning the American way of life: drinking milkshakes, eating hamburgers, and experiencing everything humidity has to offer him (i.e., bucketloads of sweat). September 7th—goodbye Amtrak, hello Ave!