Now, I knew going into it that Hermana Soto's room for me had to bed but that they had a blowup mattress. It turns out that the place isn't hers, though; in fact, it belongs to the poor invalid woman she cares for, a frail thing that is confined to a bed or a wheelchair, staring out the window and scratching here knee all day. The viejita (as Hrma Soto calls her) can't hear and says something like, "Oye," every once in a while. As I sat in the same room as her, I could smell that familiar smell, that one particular to old people in diapers, too weak to do much more than breathe. It reminded me of old folks' homes I've been to, and of when my grandparents were dying. I looked around the room and saw old pictures of what this woman looked like, and I wondered who she once was, picturing her more lively and chattery, like the younger old Spaniard women I've observed here.
The place itself was small, old and run-down, meager to say the least. And yet Hrma Soto was still willing to take me in. On top of all that, I found out that she only recently found out she has breast cancer and that much of her family is poor, still in South America or barely getting by in the States. I had planned to just stay with her, but once I arrived, I just couldn't feel settled, contemplating how I could find another place. I even considered how much it'd cost to stay in a hostel for the entire time (but that wouldn't be as good for learning Spanish). Thankfully, as soon as I opened my email, I saw some messages from one of my professors, telling me that I should contact a woman named Teresa, someone he taught on his mission years ago. Wonderful!
I eventually made it out of the house to finally eat and get money on my phone to call Teresa. While out, I ended up wandering, wandering, wandering, until I ended up at the Plaza Mayor. I'm not gonna lie, I was a bit disappointed; I expected something fancier and grander. Just outside of it was a market that reminded me of Pike's Place in Seattle! While in the vicinity, an Argentinean couple asked me where we were on their tourist map, but I couldn't tell them because I was still on the hunt for a map myself! They invited me to join them, which I eventually decided to do. Together, we found the Catedral de la Almudena and the Palacio Real!
After that bit of sightseeing, I was finally able to charge my phone and call Teresa. She invited me over to scope it out before making a decision. Some metro stops and five flights of stairs later, she greeted me at her door. She welcomed me in and I was delighted to see her place was in much better condition, and I just felt good about it. In short, I decided to stay with her.
Back at Hrma Soto's place, I sheepishly told her I was going someplace else. I felt like a heel after what they'd done for me, even to the extent of manually pumping up the mattress and putting sheets on it, but I did write her a note and leave her some money. She tried to return it, even putting her hands on her hips and giving me defiant look with that small, short frame of hers, but I copied her and insisted she keep it. While there, I met a set of sister missionaries (one of which is from WA and knows my cousin), who were there to teach Karen, a girl who also lives with Hrma Soto and the viejita. They were all so sweet to me, and the sisters even insisted on helping carry my stuff to the metro!
On day 66, Wednesday, I planned to go to the temple to make a reservation for later and then go to the Biblioteca Nacional to see original 17th century texts for my thesis. The night before, I looked up something related to the temple in my scriptures, and that morning I decided to wear a skirt to go in to make the reserva. On my way there on the metro, I had the thought, "What if I end up doing baptisms for the dead today? Would I have time? Would I do it?" The next thing I knew, I saw a couple that looked suspiciously like an LDS American couple dressed up in Sunday clothes. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw their missionary name tags! They showed me the way to the temple, and it turns out that they are the senior couple in charge of the institute and YSA activities here!
Check out what I found:
As soon as I saw it, something in me came to life, something I hadn't realized was missing. I used to think the Madrid temple was...not to my taste, but I quickly realized that its designs reflect the history and culture of the region, complete with patterns reminiscent of ones I saw in Granada and Sevilla. Beautiful! Oh, how good it felt to be there! I walked in, asked for a reservation, and the old man behind the desk motioned for me to go at that very moment! Hmm, good thing I happened to think to bring my recommend, that I was in a skirt already, and that the possibility had already crossed my mind--oh yeah, and that I've lived such that I feel good about going in!
Once in the baptistry area, I found that the main group of youth was from Portugal and that there were a few people from France and a few others from the States. My week in Portugal proved helpful in understanding the temple president's Portunol message, and I loved that I was in a room that, as he described it, was a mini Tower of Babel, filled with languages I recognized. I would love to be a temple worker in such a place. Maybe one day when I'm old a gray. :)
Some time later, I made it to the Biblioteca Nacional, got my new carne to enter, came back to my new place, and was received by Teresa, who immediately threw a plate of food together for me. I had been planning on going to institute, but along the way I kept thinking, "What if I don't go? I'm not actually going. What if Teresa offers me dinner? I don't want to offend her by rejecting it to hurry off to institute." You can guess what happened.
Hmm, it seems that Heavenly Father prepared me for each step of the way with little thoughts along the way. He tends to do that. :D
Ariel,
ReplyDeleteI just love your descriptions! It is like being there with you.