6. Plan a romantic date for Valentine's Day - February 17, 2008
I had made up my mind that this year I was going to have a date for Valentine’s Day. This was of course before I realized I was going to be in Vitoria, Spain to visit a good friend of mine. I decided not to change it on the list; I knew there were going to be couple of things I might not be able to do, but I wanted to leave it the way I have originated it.
Extremely excited about my year’s worth of activities, I explained everything to Laura (the girl who invited me to stay with her and her family for two weeks). A date for Valentine ’s Day, she pointed out. I explained I had written that well before I realized I was definitely going to be away and I didn’t mind leaving it “unchecked.” Maybe you will still have a date, she had said with a smile.
A day or two later, Laura said she wanted to meet up with a friend of hers; a guy she had known since grade school and had not seen in quite awhile. We would go and have a coffee with him. Laura had mentioned to him that she would be bringing her “American friend” with her. I was going to be following her everywhere for following two weeks, especially since she was my main connection to the Spanish world. He didn’t mind; he saw it as an opportunity to practice his English. As Laura had explained to me, he had wanted to go to England over the summer to work, in hope of improving his English. He was to have a phone interview the following day and if all went well, he would land himself the job. He’s funny, she said, you will like him. She noted that she hoped his humor would translate for me.
He was late. I was kind of annoyed; I wasn’t really anxious to meet this guy. From what I got from Laura’s brief mentions of him, he sounded like he could be a bit of a punk. Not to mention I would probably be spending most of the visit excluded since my Spanish comprehension was nonexistent. He’ll be wearing a baseball cap, as usual, she said. So we impatiently looked for him, standing outside at our meeting point. No boys in baseball caps were to be seen. No a word from him to say where he was at. And it was getting dark out, not to mention cold.
Finally “the punk” showed. True to form, he was wearing a white baseball cap that covered his eyes, a beard that covered his chin and a bag slung over one shoulder. He kissed Laura “hello,” both cheeks in greeting and the same for me. This was Jon, I was told, the boy who needed work on his English. My annoyance disappeared when he first smiled; he was kind of cute, even in his oversized sweatshirt and somewhat baggy jeans. We went inside and ordered our drinks. On his laptop which he pulled from his shoulder bag, he showed us pictures he had of he and Laura. He had pictures of him and his buddies wearing what appeared to be muscle men costumes with crazy hair. They had worn these outfits when they went skiing and video taped each other making complete fools of themselves. He had several short movies of his group on road trips throughout Europe. His adventurous nature was intriguing and though I could hardly understand a word he was trying to say, I got a genuine taste of what he was really like. We all chatted for awhile before Laura excused us. Jon asked if he when he would see us girls again. We said we didn’t know but we would call him later.
Jon called to find out when and where we were going out each day. Hoping to catch us out at a bar or club, he called repeatedly each night until he caught us. Once he woke Laura up at three in the morning to see if we would be heading to the disco that night. A couple times we did meet up with him at bars. He and I tried very hard to speak to one another. There was a night when we were in a small smoky bar, he pulled Laura aside and to talk to her about taking me out. He wanted to surprise me; take me to a movie and dinner. Do you want to go with him, she had asked, beaming excitedly. She pointed out that I would in fact have my date for Valentine’s. Rather shyly, and quite surprised, I said I wanted to go. Bring a dictionary, he had joked.
Prior to date night, Jon and I had established that it was important for me to see a European football game (that’s soccer for us, Americans). He asked me if I wanted to go with him to a game, to a movie, and then we would go to a bar to get something to eat. The perfect date, in my opinion. Jon had a friend who worked at the stadium so we snuck into an early afternoon game. If you have never been to see a live football match, I suggest you go. It was inspiring! Everyone is singing throughout the game; the cheering is deafening, even for such a small match. Jon did his best to explain to me the rules. To my delight, I received wild hugs for every goal, which made the game all the more enjoyable.
Afterwards we walked through the street of his home town towards the movie theater. He was taking me to see Sweeney Todd, as it would be in both our languages. Though it was dubbed in Spanish, most of the film was singing and that would be left in English with subtitles in Spanish. Another one of Jon’s buddies worked at the theater so we snuck into that as well. The movie was great, especially how moving the song Johanna was; I knew the story so even dubbed in Spanish I enjoyed it. A chill ran up my spine when Jon reached over and took my hand. I smiled; I felt like a giddy sixteen year old; this was the part of my teenage year I had missed out on. I had never had that; the hand holding, the theater make-outs, the cuddling with someone who wanted to be with you. I didn’t care how obnoxious we might have looked, I was absolutely floating.
We ended up at a bar after the flick. I had in fact brought my Spanish/English dictionary, which served great entertainment. We had a few laughs reading the “common” phrases in our languages. Our conversation was slow, and at points seriously painful to translate, but all the same, we had a wonderful time. He ripped out a page in my dictionary and began folding it. I asked him what he was doing but he kept saying, “very beautiful.” When he was done, the ripped page was a tiny origami flower, which he handed to me. A sweet way to end an perfect evening.
I didn’t want to go home. I had actually forgotten the time and Laura called at about two in the morning looking for me. She couldn’t go to bed until I was back because she had to let me into her apartment building. Before we left, Jon said I should practice my Spanish and pay for our sandwiches. I said practice implies that I had something to work with before and since I had never actually learned Spanish, I couldn’t exactly practice. This explanation was too long-winded and much of it was lost on him, though I thought it was rather amusing. Jon told me all I had to do was repeat after him. I laughed, but refused. Insistent, he blurted out a bunch of words I didn’t understand, ending with “[something, something…] Ole!” Ok, he had me until “ole.” I told him to get over himself; I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that a sentence including “ole” was appropriate for a foreigner to say to a native. If he couldn’t point it out in the dictionary, I wasn’t saying it. He laughed but never told me what he said. He paid for our meal and walked me home to Laura’s.
The night before I left, he gave me a few gifts. After spending a couple of short hours together before I was to go home, he handed me a CD with about five hundred Spanish hip hop songs that I had asked him for. He also gave me a drawing he had personally done. However the best thing he gave me was merely an afterthought. As we made our way back to meet Laura, he said he needed to stop at his apartment. He ran inside and when he came back he handed me a baseball cap. It was his favorite one. He asked that I take a picture in it for him and, of course, I agreed. I, in turn, gave him two things, both of which he was not allowed to open until later when he was alone. I had given him an origami crane with a small a tiny note on it. As it turns out, he was also a Prisionbreak fan, and knew that the origami crane was a symbol of affection between the two main characters of the TV show. I had also left him with a song by Ani Difranco called Hypnotized. The song was perfect:
I had made up my mind that this year I was going to have a date for Valentine’s Day. This was of course before I realized I was going to be in Vitoria, Spain to visit a good friend of mine. I decided not to change it on the list; I knew there were going to be couple of things I might not be able to do, but I wanted to leave it the way I have originated it.
Extremely excited about my year’s worth of activities, I explained everything to Laura (the girl who invited me to stay with her and her family for two weeks). A date for Valentine ’s Day, she pointed out. I explained I had written that well before I realized I was definitely going to be away and I didn’t mind leaving it “unchecked.” Maybe you will still have a date, she had said with a smile.
A day or two later, Laura said she wanted to meet up with a friend of hers; a guy she had known since grade school and had not seen in quite awhile. We would go and have a coffee with him. Laura had mentioned to him that she would be bringing her “American friend” with her. I was going to be following her everywhere for following two weeks, especially since she was my main connection to the Spanish world. He didn’t mind; he saw it as an opportunity to practice his English. As Laura had explained to me, he had wanted to go to England over the summer to work, in hope of improving his English. He was to have a phone interview the following day and if all went well, he would land himself the job. He’s funny, she said, you will like him. She noted that she hoped his humor would translate for me.
He was late. I was kind of annoyed; I wasn’t really anxious to meet this guy. From what I got from Laura’s brief mentions of him, he sounded like he could be a bit of a punk. Not to mention I would probably be spending most of the visit excluded since my Spanish comprehension was nonexistent. He’ll be wearing a baseball cap, as usual, she said. So we impatiently looked for him, standing outside at our meeting point. No boys in baseball caps were to be seen. No a word from him to say where he was at. And it was getting dark out, not to mention cold.
Finally “the punk” showed. True to form, he was wearing a white baseball cap that covered his eyes, a beard that covered his chin and a bag slung over one shoulder. He kissed Laura “hello,” both cheeks in greeting and the same for me. This was Jon, I was told, the boy who needed work on his English. My annoyance disappeared when he first smiled; he was kind of cute, even in his oversized sweatshirt and somewhat baggy jeans. We went inside and ordered our drinks. On his laptop which he pulled from his shoulder bag, he showed us pictures he had of he and Laura. He had pictures of him and his buddies wearing what appeared to be muscle men costumes with crazy hair. They had worn these outfits when they went skiing and video taped each other making complete fools of themselves. He had several short movies of his group on road trips throughout Europe. His adventurous nature was intriguing and though I could hardly understand a word he was trying to say, I got a genuine taste of what he was really like. We all chatted for awhile before Laura excused us. Jon asked if he when he would see us girls again. We said we didn’t know but we would call him later.
Jon called to find out when and where we were going out each day. Hoping to catch us out at a bar or club, he called repeatedly each night until he caught us. Once he woke Laura up at three in the morning to see if we would be heading to the disco that night. A couple times we did meet up with him at bars. He and I tried very hard to speak to one another. There was a night when we were in a small smoky bar, he pulled Laura aside and to talk to her about taking me out. He wanted to surprise me; take me to a movie and dinner. Do you want to go with him, she had asked, beaming excitedly. She pointed out that I would in fact have my date for Valentine’s. Rather shyly, and quite surprised, I said I wanted to go. Bring a dictionary, he had joked.Prior to date night, Jon and I had established that it was important for me to see a European football game (that’s soccer for us, Americans). He asked me if I wanted to go with him to a game, to a movie, and then we would go to a bar to get something to eat. The perfect date, in my opinion. Jon had a friend who worked at the stadium so we snuck into an early afternoon game. If you have never been to see a live football match, I suggest you go. It was inspiring! Everyone is singing throughout the game; the cheering is deafening, even for such a small match. Jon did his best to explain to me the rules. To my delight, I received wild hugs for every goal, which made the game all the more enjoyable.
Afterwards we walked through the street of his home town towards the movie theater. He was taking me to see Sweeney Todd, as it would be in both our languages. Though it was dubbed in Spanish, most of the film was singing and that would be left in English with subtitles in Spanish. Another one of Jon’s buddies worked at the theater so we snuck into that as well. The movie was great, especially how moving the song Johanna was; I knew the story so even dubbed in Spanish I enjoyed it. A chill ran up my spine when Jon reached over and took my hand. I smiled; I felt like a giddy sixteen year old; this was the part of my teenage year I had missed out on. I had never had that; the hand holding, the theater make-outs, the cuddling with someone who wanted to be with you. I didn’t care how obnoxious we might have looked, I was absolutely floating.
We ended up at a bar after the flick. I had in fact brought my Spanish/English dictionary, which served great entertainment. We had a few laughs reading the “common” phrases in our languages. Our conversation was slow, and at points seriously painful to translate, but all the same, we had a wonderful time. He ripped out a page in my dictionary and began folding it. I asked him what he was doing but he kept saying, “very beautiful.” When he was done, the ripped page was a tiny origami flower, which he handed to me. A sweet way to end an perfect evening.
I didn’t want to go home. I had actually forgotten the time and Laura called at about two in the morning looking for me. She couldn’t go to bed until I was back because she had to let me into her apartment building. Before we left, Jon said I should practice my Spanish and pay for our sandwiches. I said practice implies that I had something to work with before and since I had never actually learned Spanish, I couldn’t exactly practice. This explanation was too long-winded and much of it was lost on him, though I thought it was rather amusing. Jon told me all I had to do was repeat after him. I laughed, but refused. Insistent, he blurted out a bunch of words I didn’t understand, ending with “[something, something…] Ole!” Ok, he had me until “ole.” I told him to get over himself; I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that a sentence including “ole” was appropriate for a foreigner to say to a native. If he couldn’t point it out in the dictionary, I wasn’t saying it. He laughed but never told me what he said. He paid for our meal and walked me home to Laura’s.
The night before I left, he gave me a few gifts. After spending a couple of short hours together before I was to go home, he handed me a CD with about five hundred Spanish hip hop songs that I had asked him for. He also gave me a drawing he had personally done. However the best thing he gave me was merely an afterthought. As we made our way back to meet Laura, he said he needed to stop at his apartment. He ran inside and when he came back he handed me a baseball cap. It was his favorite one. He asked that I take a picture in it for him and, of course, I agreed. I, in turn, gave him two things, both of which he was not allowed to open until later when he was alone. I had given him an origami crane with a small a tiny note on it. As it turns out, he was also a Prisionbreak fan, and knew that the origami crane was a symbol of affection between the two main characters of the TV show. I had also left him with a song by Ani Difranco called Hypnotized. The song was perfect:
I was surrounded by a language
In which I could say only “hello,”
And “thanks you very much,”
But you spoke so I could understand
And I drew a treasure map on your hand.
He never asked me what kind of car I drove or how big my house was. It didn’t matter how much money my parents made or how little I make on my own. He never asked me what my ethnicity was and his reaction to my sexual orientation was, “that’s normal.” Not once did his try put any labels on me or put anything materialistic or superficial between us. His interest in me was genuine, there was nothing superficial about it. He made me feel extraordinary and beautiful, me with my caramel skin tone and curvy body shape. It seemed to more I was “me,” the more he liked it. It was amazing to feel his affection and return it genuinely to someone with merit.
A few days after I left he sent me a song called Te Quiero by Zenit. The first time I heard it I involuntarily began to cry. I couldn’t tell you why, I obviously could not understand a word of it. But something in me knew what it was being said. When I asked a friend of mine to translate, I realized I was right. It was about wanting someone you couldn’t have, and every feeling that goes along with that. I haven’t heard from “the punk” since, but I’m ok. I feel that it is best. To quote India.Arie,
If he ever left me I wouldn’t even be sad
‘Cause there’s a blessin'
In every lesson
And I’m glad that I even knew him at all.
He was absolutely worth it, even if only for a moment. Better than any Valentine’s Day I could have planned!
Someday "I'll steal you..."
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