Fútbol Fever

I am settling into my new home, creating a bubble of comfort and familiarity to help alleviate the affects of culture shock. I find refuge in my daily routines, the friends I have made, and my bedroom. They are all safe havens from the exhausting endless chattering on the streets. The frustration of not understanding my local language takes a toll that often goes unnoticed, until it accumulates into such stress that I stop and must examine the source of my anxiousness.

When you are removed from your natural habitat, it is normal to feel incomplete. The quest to be whole again, to find what will relieve the nameless aching, is a reaffirmation of what makes one truly happy and a confirmation of his or her identity. I heard it said many times before I left, “You will change when you study abroad.” I agree, but there are constants in my personality I have found to remain strong despite the intangible and physical distance.

The final contestants that never fail to brighten my mood: Nature, running, baking, dancing, and friends you can be yourself around. I have used baking as an anti-stress agent for many years, thankfully accumulating enough experience to produce tasty treats without recipes or measuring cups.

 The classic: cranberry scones.

 Kindred spirits.

Toasty warm.

 Hair monster.

 Dancing lessons.

Smiling.

This week there was a fútbol (soccer) game between two long-standing rivals: Real Madrid and Barcelona. Loyalties are fierce and passionate, I somewhat violated this holy matrimony but resolving to root for whichever team was winning at the moment. I visited my friend Katelyn’s apartment because we do not own a television at my place. Technologically savvy roommates had hooked up a live stream from their computers to play on the screen, but after only five minutes the connection was lost. The diehard fans were inconsolable, and promptly left to find a bar where they could continue watching without interruption. We stuck around a bit longer with feeble hopes, but the internet here is as slow as 1996, so we went on a hunt for public cable. Before long we spotted a café packed with blue illuminated faces. I ordered a giant ice cream sundae and happily ate it on the cold tiled floor, participating in an event as seemingly important as the first lunar landing.