On Thursday mornings I ride the bus to school. The bus passes through a few different small towns outside of Sevilla in route to Valencina, and at the first of those towns, I couldn't help but notice the pair that hopped on board and headed towards my end of the bus. It was a father and a daughter. The daughter was about as cute as they come. She was probably no more than three, and she had a head FULL of gorgeous, curly light brown locks.
When you board the bus, you scan your card, and it pops out a receipt/ticket for you. You generally shove these in your bag or pocket until you've collected a good stock and then throw them out. They're not all that useful, (or environmentally, friendly, I'd like to point out!) and I often wish we could just skip that step.
With that explanation behind us, jump back to this adorable little girl. As she skipped in front of her dad to some free seats, just as I was thinking how adorable she was, she intentionally chunked her receipt on the floor of the bus in the aisle. BAM. There it laid. I was taken aback. I mean, it's not a punishable crime or anything, but something inside me shivers when I see someone litter. That same something inside me puts a person who picks up a piece of litter out of the goodness of their own heart into the instant hero category. I was struck by the the shattering of my perfect impression of that little girl. Something so adorable and lovely had just horked herself off of the pedestal I'd created for her in my mind of young, innocent, adorableness.
Now, here's the thing. Her father saw her. He saw that act of public property litterage. Clear as day. My daddy would have ordered me out of that seat, had me pick up the receipt, and throw it away immediately. Here's what her father did. He came up behind her and paused for a moment before sitting down, looking like he was going to pick up her trash and use the opportunity for a little lesson in respect for public property. NO SUCH LUCK. He just paused, then stepped on the receipt as he maneuvered into his seat.
Wow. I know it's a petty little event and story, but it's so typical and illustrative. Here in Spain, people just don't give a second thought to things like littering, running into someone, changing the clearly agreed upon plan, showing up what we would consider obscenely late, or blatantly cutting in line. It's hard for an efficiency, fight-for-yourself raised American to adjust to. But on the other hand, it's so healthy in some ways to experience this view of life (minus the littering part). Anything that reminds me that the world is not all about making my life as comfortable and efficient as possible is a good thing. And life in Spain does just that. I'm not foolish enough to think that I don't need reminding quite often that there's no reason to be quite so rigid and uptight. So. Here's to you, Spain. You're different. You're frustrating at times. But thank you for making me stop and remember that I'm not the main attraction here. I need that everyday...and all of your help is quite appreciated.
Spain is quite the adjustment. You want people to say "sorry" more often for running you over then standing you up but you'll be waiting an awfully long time. But chillness is definitely a good learned quality to grasp. Glad you read the book! Or if you're like me you just gathered all this information directly from the title without the necessity of all those words. Great and insightful blog. Keep up the good work!
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