Madrid and San Miguel Veteran Nikki Gordy Discusses Faith, Cobblestones, and Crema de Aguacate
In this, my second summer in a Spanish-speaking country outside of the U.S., I’ve come to the conclusion that living abroad is a faith-building exercise.
You have faith that you will not forget to pack anything vital, and that the stores where you are going will carry the vital things you will undoubtedly forget to pack.
You have faith that the map to your hostel is correct. That you will know it when you see it.
You have faith that between broken Spanish, overpronounced Enlish, and a repertoire of hand gestures you will be able to order food, find the bathroom, return greetings, obtain correct change.
You have faith that your stomach will flourish in its new environment of chili peppers, salsas, frijoles, and mole sauce. When it doesn’t, you have faith that Mexican Pepto Bismol works as well as the American version.
You have faith that each step you take on the jagged colonial cobblestone streets will not result in you falling and breaking your weak gringa ankles.
You have faith that all destinations can be found by starting out in the jardin, the city square, and marching on bravely from there.
You have faith in your ability to hail a cab. Budget pesos. Taste a cold avocado and tequila soup and not gag – a delicacy.
You have faith that you are here for a purpose. That you have something to learn. That you are learning it. You wake up each day and eat a granola bar for breakfast and step past the bright blue door of your hostel and set your feet on the treacherous cobblestone in the chilly morning air and think to yourself, It is good for me to be here.