Posts
NOTE: It’s been 8 days since I wrote the entry below. I don’t know why I haven’t posted it yet. Maybe the end of the blog signals the end of my adventure. And I don’t like saying goodbye. But it’s time.
* * *
Our departure from Barcelona was not without drama. One last “Clasico” last night as Barca played Real Madrid in Bernabeu Stadium; a lackluster start by Barca that ended with a 2-2 tie—a fine result given that they will play in Camp Nou on Wednesday. We’ll be watching from our living room in Brooklyn. I went to bed just after Villa’s magnificent goal after an assist by Messi, knowing that today would be a long day, and I never sleep on airplanes.
We ordered a taxi for 6 am, and set our alarm clock for 5. Our duffel bags were at the door and ready to go, piled up like so many sleeping giants. We started to load the luggage into the elevator at about 10 minutes before 6—much more organized and calm than usual, for us. Alec had turned from the elevator into the apartment to grab another bag when the elevator doors started to close. He called for me to hold them open and I lunged for the door. The back of my pants caught on the latch and I heard the ripping sound before I could stop. Neither did I get to the elevator in time.
The doors closed, so I pressed the button to get them to open again. They did not. We could see the elevator from the side of the shaft, and it was not moving. Alec raced down the 5 flights to the lobby to see if he could get it to descend, but it did not. The elevator was stuck, with three pieces of our luggage inside. The taxi arrived. I woke up Laura to see whether the building had a super living there; no luck. I went down to explain what was going on to the taxi driver, who volunteered to call the fire department. By that time Laura had woken John, who was helping Alec bring the rest of our bags down. We figured we would just go to the airport and have them send the imprisoned bags later.
And then, miraculously, the elevator started to move. It went down to the ground floor, and the doors opened. We quickly removed our bags, but I did not get back in that elevator. We had had the kids sleep half-dressed, so they were still groggy as we walked down the stairs together. Milo rubbed his eyes, took my hand and said, “Mama, I’m kind of excited about going to New York, but also kind of sad about leaving Barcelona.” “I know exactly how you feel, Milo,” I replied. Exactly.
Everything else went smoothly—our flight to Geneva left and arrived on time, and we boarded our flight to JFK without a hitch. The kids think we are in first class because they have their own personal video screens, and there is an ample supply of kids’ videos. We land in New York this afternoon. Alec’s brother, Nick, who drove us to the airport 13 months ago, will pick us up and bring us home.
As we fly over the Atlantic, increasing our distance from Barcelona and shortening the space between ourselves and New York, it seems right to end this blog. I didn’t plan to write a blog—it was the answer to the problem of how to keep in touch with family and friends when so much was happening. I sat down in the office one day during that first couple of weeks, surrounded by boxes, and thought—“Maybe I should start a blog—it can’t be that hard.” A few clicks later and the blog was created, and I was on my way to writing my first post.
It didn’t take me long to realize that what I had initiated for other people fulfilled me as well. I hadn’t written much besides emails and memos for the two years prior to our departure for Spain, and writing the blog made me remember how much I liked writing, and not just academic writing. I started carrying a camera to capture the “photo of the day.” And I paid a different kind of attention to my surroundings and my experiences because I wanted to be able to describe it all later.
Sitting out on John and Laura’s terrace the other night, Laura asked me what was the most important thing I had gotten out of this year in Barcelona. I thought for a moment—but not too long—and answered, “Slowing down.” I am one of the most productive people I know, but the truth is, I am a whole lot happier when I have less on my plate. Slowing down does not come naturally to me. Having a year of sabbatical in which I had no deadlines, no set meetings, and no concrete deliverables certainly helped. And being in Barcelona—where the culture is much more about working to live than living to work, as it is in New York—provided the perfect context for my adventure in doing less. I never received an email from a work colleague after 7 pm. No one I know in Barcelona takes work home on the weekend. Preparing a meal and sharing it with friends is a valid way to spend a day or evening.
Although I rose to the challenge of doing less this past year, I know the real challenge is about to begin. In one week, I have my first faculty meeting. The world in which I live in New York does not support the kind of life I learned to live this past year—New York is a powerful drug for a task junkie like me. I have no doubt that I will ramp it up some—it would be hard not to. But I’ll do my best to hold onto the calm, and practice what I’ve learned until my new habits become more, well . . . habitual.
There’s much more, of course, but if you’ve read this blog at all regularly, you know it by now. I hope you’ve enjoyed following my adventures. It’s been fun to live them and satisfying to write about them.
When I first started learning Spanish, in Guatemala nearly 20 years ago, I would sit in a church courtyard with my teacher, a middle-aged woman who would chatter on and on while I tried to follow her stories and reply appropriately. It seemed as though every tale was sprinkled liberally with her saying “Gracias, Adios. Gracias, Adios.” I couldn’t figure out why. Finally, I asked the family I was staying with. “Why is everyone always saying “Thank you, goodbye?” in the middle of their stories?” The mother laughed and said, “It’s not “thank you, goodbye” they’re saying. It’s “thank God!—Gracias a Dios.” Too funny. I still think of that when I hear someone say it. And so, dear reader, to you I say, Gracias. And adios.
