Luces de Bohemia y Violin

The cast of Luces de Bohemia, a Teatro del Templo produccion

What a crazy couple of days! I'm finally getting almost as busy as I was at Deerfield.
On Wednesday, I had a normal school day until 5:15. I stayed after for a little bit to chat with my English teacher about my Altas Shrugged essay, but then hurried to the Escuela Popular de Música where I'm taking violins. I'm using the school's violin (the music school - SYA doesn't have one) so I have to go there to practice, but it is literally 5 minutes walking from my house, so there is no hassle. After a half-hour of practicing (I had to vacate the room for a flute lesson), I headed home and hit the elbows (literal translation of a Spanish phrase which means "get to studying").
Just as I read the last line of my political science handout, the doorbell rang. Jenny and I were both going with the school to a play that night, Luces de Bohemia. Her literature class had read the script, and that was their motive for attending, but the literature teacher knew I enjoyed the theatre and invited me along. The play was at 9, and Jenny wouldn't have had time to go home and eat, so I invited her to my house (hoping my host mother wouldn't mind).
It turned out that Carmen called saying she wouldn't make it home for dinner anyhow, so Jenny and I had free range of the kitchen. We baked mini chocolate-banana muffins as a birthday present for another friend (and permitted ourselves the luxury of using real American chocolate chips, which I'd been sent in a package - trust me, there is a huge difference, and the USA ones are a million times better), then our meal: "ants on a log salad" (celery, apples, peanuts, raisins, and a yogurt dressing) and alubias (red beans) with peppers, onions, and tomato. It was so delicious that we completely lost track of time and suddenly realized it was quarter to nine as we were just taking our second helpings! We threw the dishes in the sink, feeling incredibly bad that we didn't have time to wash them, I forwent the heels, and we literally ran to the theatre, which is about 10 minutes from my house at a normal pace. Taking the little side roads I've gotten to know, we arrived in probably 3 minutes flat - a little out of breath, but not a hair out of place.

A scene from Luces de Bohemia

Seeing as the school had bought the tickets, we had first floor, front and center seats - a wonderful break from my usual 5th-floor balcony nosebleed position! I really enjoyed the play (although those who had read it found it rather boring), and arrived home a bit after 11.
The next day was just as packed. After school, I met up with a student from Málaga getting his doctorate in Arabic at the University of Zaragoza. We trade languages: he teaches me Arabic for a while, then we chat in English. After saying goodbye (he is leaving to study abroad in Morocco), I rushed to my violin lesson. I didn't end up leaving the Escuela until 9:45, since I am joining (if they don't kick me out for my low talent level!) the school's (once again, the music school, not SYA) newly-formed band. There are 13 of us, with a nice woodwinds section, a brass section, a drummer, and 4 violinists (including me). And although it is hard to believe, I am not the worst, which is always a relief! However, I definitely need to practice a lot...I miss the vibraphone, where I didn't have to worry about playing the wrong note because of moving my finger half a centimeter! The teacher was constantly correcting my playing posture and bow hold...even after a 4 year period of not playing, old (bad!) habits die hard!

The Nuns Near the Corte Inglés

I had never seen a nun before arriving in Zaragoza. The extent of my knowledge was gleaned from the blasphemous Almodóvar movie Dark Habits and the ever-classic Sound of Music. When I went to interview the Siervas de María for my journalism class, I didn't expect the nuns to burst into song in response to my questions, but I didn't really have any idea of what would happen.
I had worked up the courage to knock on the door the day before, urged on by my reportaje deadline. It was about 1 o'clock on a Saturday afternoon. I explained to the woman who opened the door that I was a student in the American high school writing an article about the nuns of Zaragoza. She responded that they took care of sick people, that they were sleeping, and to come back the next day at 11.
Thoroughly confused (who was sleeping, the nuns or the patients?), I nevertheless returned on Sunday to gather some more information. The woman who opened the door this time was much more welcoming, greeting me with the Spanish cheek kisses and inviting me in even before I'd said who I was. We walked down a long dark hallway and she led me into a room outfitted with chairs and a table, flicked on the light, and invited me to sit down. I'd told her my story on the way, and she was intrigued by the "American-high-school-in-Zaragoza" thing (most Zaragozanos have no idea we exist).
"We're talking right now," she said, explaining the voices reverberating down the hall. "I'll be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, here is some information about our founder, Santa María Soledad, and a booklet we published to celebrate 125 years in Zaragoza. Here," she said, flipping to a page, "this is my testament." She bustled out, and I started to read.
I read about a woman who had heard "the call" at about 14, but didn't want to follow it. She went out with friends, and even got engaged, before she was finally able to come to terms with the fact that the life she was living was false. She decided to join the Siervas de María, the name of the order I visited.
She and another nun came back, and we all sat down.
"So, what is a typical day like for you all?" I asked.
"Well, we get back at 6 or 7 from taking care of the sick," said Mercedes, adding, "I'll start in the morning."
That's right, she was talking about 6 or 7 a.m. The Siervas de María dedicate their lives to nighttime house calls. Trained as nurses, they take care of the sick so that their families can rest. The rest of their day is filled with prayer, oration, meals, taking care of the house, and sleep.
Although I could never imagine being a nun myself, I left filled with respect for these women who decide to dedicate their lives to helping others. And they were so...nice. And happy. Truly happy. Mercedes told me, "Yes, you have to leave things behind, but for better things. You have a love of God that fills you up."
Intense.