This morning I tried something completely different which I had never done before: a real, pure boxing class with gloves and all. I had always felt intimated by these classes because the people are more or less real boxers, not just the kickboxing sort that I've known before. But as I get older, I realize more and more how important it is to throw ourselves into things that make us nervous. If we don't, our days may become mundane, and most important of all, we may miss out on the greatest possibilities.
I was invited to the boxing class by a new friend who I have become very close with just over the last few weeks. Just as I have in generally every aspect of living in Spain, I felt very welcomed into the class as a newcomer. The people were warm and friendly and I felt a genuine community. At the end of the class, everyone was to choose one exercise that everyone would do ten reps of. They were impressed and slightly hateful when I chose burpees! Thanks to the amazing gym and trainers that I have had in Madrid at the Reebok gym, burpees are now a love of mine (but never too many, of course).
When the boxing class ended, I decided to walk the 2.5 miles home instead of take the metro. Unless you are in a hurry or the weather is terrible, walking is always the better option because you get to see the city. Throughout this walk on my final Saturday morning in this city that has taken me through so much over the past four years, I felt sad, happy, grateful, and a bit lost in nostalgia. As I strolled, I wandered through some of my old stomping-grounds from the Plaza Chamberi where I lived my very first spring here in 2010 where I was fascinated by the mounds of children that came running out of every corner to play inthe plaza at exactly 5pm every single weekday while their parents or caretakers sat at nearby cafes barely watching them (I never figured out which corners the multitudes of kids come running from; at the stroke of 5pm they just appear), where the tiny nuns always walked in pairs or trios coming out of the plaza's church, the first spot where I became a "regular," greeting the waiters each day as I walked by... I walked by parks and street benches were I once couldn't believe how much time the elderly folks spend simply sitting outside, chatting amongst themselves, and watching passersby. I remembered feeling happy for the community that they had... I passed the Plaza Olavide where I had spent numerous summer nights trying to get an outdoor table on the packed terraces and chatting away with old and new friends... I passed spots where I had had first dates and many broken hearts... I passed by one of my favorite little bars in Alonso Martinez where I often go with girlfriends and the elderly waiter never fails to give us at least one free drink because we are "chicas guapas..."
This Saturday morning walk was especially pensive because the city is the emptiest I have ever seen it. It is my very first time being here in August, and it is true when everyone says that on the first of August, everyone goes on vacation. As my friend said the other day, "Madrid esta delicioso en Agosto," and though I love the endless chatter, packed bars and restaurants, runners on the streets, people strolling, having coffee and beers in the other months, there is something so delicious to the quiet of August. Of course there are still people, but significantly less, and many places are closed for the month.
As the majority of my time here has been downright chaotic (in every joyous sense of the word), it seems healthy to end on a slightly quieter note. I have had a chance to spend time with and say goodbye to all of the people who made Madrid a home for me, and now I have had a moment to say goodbye to the city that also welcomed itself to me and provided me with an incredibly safe, lively, walk-able, historical, surprising life for four years.
On this last Saturday morning, I finally felt a bit of the sadness which I have been trying so hard to avoid this past month. I have been surrounded this entire month by the people that have made my experience in Madrid the dream that it has been, and I have said over and over again that I am not sad because this is only an "hasta pronto" and not a goodbye, but in reality, of course I am sad. It has been a tremendous chunk of my life, having had the opportunity to live for four years on the other side of the world, and to have accumulated groups of people that have become family is not easy to just get up and leave. The goodbye parties, cards, gifts, and time that so many people have dedicated to me this last month have certified (even more so) that even if I am not living here the greater part of year, it is always my home. I have felt so much love and gratitude for these people and this city, that there is almost no room to be too sad...
And as I felt slightly nervous and comfortable upon first entering in the boxing class this morning, within five minutes I was in my element just as what happened when I began my journey in Spain. At the beginning, I was very nervous to try to speak the language, to go to places alone, to try new foods, talk to new people, but soon enough I confronted the discomforts and challenges.... and well, four years later... this is what happens when we try completely new things that seem scary at first... life just becomes that much better and you never know what you will end up gaining from having taken that first uncomfortable step and then diving in.
I was invited to the boxing class by a new friend who I have become very close with just over the last few weeks. Just as I have in generally every aspect of living in Spain, I felt very welcomed into the class as a newcomer. The people were warm and friendly and I felt a genuine community. At the end of the class, everyone was to choose one exercise that everyone would do ten reps of. They were impressed and slightly hateful when I chose burpees! Thanks to the amazing gym and trainers that I have had in Madrid at the Reebok gym, burpees are now a love of mine (but never too many, of course).
When the boxing class ended, I decided to walk the 2.5 miles home instead of take the metro. Unless you are in a hurry or the weather is terrible, walking is always the better option because you get to see the city. Throughout this walk on my final Saturday morning in this city that has taken me through so much over the past four years, I felt sad, happy, grateful, and a bit lost in nostalgia. As I strolled, I wandered through some of my old stomping-grounds from the Plaza Chamberi where I lived my very first spring here in 2010 where I was fascinated by the mounds of children that came running out of every corner to play inthe plaza at exactly 5pm every single weekday while their parents or caretakers sat at nearby cafes barely watching them (I never figured out which corners the multitudes of kids come running from; at the stroke of 5pm they just appear), where the tiny nuns always walked in pairs or trios coming out of the plaza's church, the first spot where I became a "regular," greeting the waiters each day as I walked by... I walked by parks and street benches were I once couldn't believe how much time the elderly folks spend simply sitting outside, chatting amongst themselves, and watching passersby. I remembered feeling happy for the community that they had... I passed the Plaza Olavide where I had spent numerous summer nights trying to get an outdoor table on the packed terraces and chatting away with old and new friends... I passed spots where I had had first dates and many broken hearts... I passed by one of my favorite little bars in Alonso Martinez where I often go with girlfriends and the elderly waiter never fails to give us at least one free drink because we are "chicas guapas..."
This Saturday morning walk was especially pensive because the city is the emptiest I have ever seen it. It is my very first time being here in August, and it is true when everyone says that on the first of August, everyone goes on vacation. As my friend said the other day, "Madrid esta delicioso en Agosto," and though I love the endless chatter, packed bars and restaurants, runners on the streets, people strolling, having coffee and beers in the other months, there is something so delicious to the quiet of August. Of course there are still people, but significantly less, and many places are closed for the month.
As the majority of my time here has been downright chaotic (in every joyous sense of the word), it seems healthy to end on a slightly quieter note. I have had a chance to spend time with and say goodbye to all of the people who made Madrid a home for me, and now I have had a moment to say goodbye to the city that also welcomed itself to me and provided me with an incredibly safe, lively, walk-able, historical, surprising life for four years.
On this last Saturday morning, I finally felt a bit of the sadness which I have been trying so hard to avoid this past month. I have been surrounded this entire month by the people that have made my experience in Madrid the dream that it has been, and I have said over and over again that I am not sad because this is only an "hasta pronto" and not a goodbye, but in reality, of course I am sad. It has been a tremendous chunk of my life, having had the opportunity to live for four years on the other side of the world, and to have accumulated groups of people that have become family is not easy to just get up and leave. The goodbye parties, cards, gifts, and time that so many people have dedicated to me this last month have certified (even more so) that even if I am not living here the greater part of year, it is always my home. I have felt so much love and gratitude for these people and this city, that there is almost no room to be too sad...
And as I felt slightly nervous and comfortable upon first entering in the boxing class this morning, within five minutes I was in my element just as what happened when I began my journey in Spain. At the beginning, I was very nervous to try to speak the language, to go to places alone, to try new foods, talk to new people, but soon enough I confronted the discomforts and challenges.... and well, four years later... this is what happens when we try completely new things that seem scary at first... life just becomes that much better and you never know what you will end up gaining from having taken that first uncomfortable step and then diving in.
No comments:
Post a Comment