Rebeca, #1plus4spain fellow took over the Tufts University snapchat for the day to share her #my1plus4story on her bridge-year! Check out a day in her life here!
My 1+4 Story: Rebeca
Day in the Life with Di!
A Day in the Life with Evan!
What’s it like to serve as a child development and education fellow with Tufts 1+4? Check out Evan’s video to see a day in his life in the Tufts 1+4 program in Spain!
My Walk Home
by Rebeca, Tufts 1+4 Participant
Every week night I take a ten-minute walk from the Paco de Lucia metro station to my home after work. The air is crisp and cold; it is late at night so there are only a few people coming out of the metro. My walk begins with a stretch of uphill; to my left is a cement wall which ends where an incline with bushes and vines begins. To the right is a road where the occasional car or bus heading to plaza de Castilla passes by. Also to the right, once I am higher up on the incline, I can see the dimly lit apartments against the dark blue sky. Beyond these I can see the lights of the buildings in the distance, and above the metro exit the occasional train passes by with a loud blow of its whistle. After the incline, I continue walking on a straight road past the Mercadona, a large supermarket, followed by a vibrant street with restaurants on one side and apartments on the other. Even though my walk home is usually between 10 and 11 pm, there are always people sitting outside eating and talking. I pass by waiters and people walking their dogs (there are so many dogs where I live). I hear the chatter coming from the people eating and cars passing by; on occasion one of the workers and I exchange a good night. This peaceful residential area I call home is a welcomed respite from the stress and hustle of the day. Once I arrive to the gate to enter my apartment complex, I wave to the doorman who always lets me in.
The Ocean
by Jordyn, Tufts 1+4 Participant
I spent a lot of the first semester of my senior year of high school trying to sound smart.
I mean, anyone applying to college is doing their best to play up every redeeming quality they have, especially when it comes to writing. Writing has always been one of my favorite subjects and I felt on top of the world when I was writing my college essays. I remember the day I started pretty well.
A close friend of mine and I decided to start together and to give each other honest creative advice. After about an hour of the occasional discussion thread and the clicking of laptop keys, we read each other our first drafts. A lot of that essay writing was a blur, but what she wrote would prove to have a lasting impact on me. Her prompt was something along the lines of “describe a relationship that is very important to you.” Though many people wrote about close friendships and family, she went off the beaten path. Her essay was about the the ocean.
At the time I read it, I had been to the ocean maybe twice in my life and knew that it was a vital part of Earth, but beyond the relaxing nature of beaches, a deep, emotional connection to the sea was a weird and unfamiliar concept. Since then, her relationship with the ocean has been dormant in the back of my mind until I began to spend more time getting to know the sea. With the end of my time in Brazil looming in the distance, I’ve realized just how close we have become.
Every day I look out my window of my quaint little house on a hill overlooking the Atlantic and I thank my lucky stars that I wake up to something so beautiful. I can walk to the beach in five minutes. There awaits a place to read, a place to meditate, somewhere to swim, and a place to be with friends. Some of my favorite moments of this year involve the beach and the ocean. I went to a surfing competition with my family, I’ve had countless deep conversations with my host mom on walks along the beach, I’ve finished lots of books, and made lifelong connections with Brazilians, other South Americans, and “US-ers” alike.
Through all that time, braving jellyfish and powerful tides, I was getting to know the ocean. I have grown accustomed to the sound of waves crashing on the beach and the idea of sand getting absolutely everywhere. When I think about coming back to the United States, I feel the pang of what Portuguese speakers call “saudades” -a deep, melancholic feeling of missing someone or something very dear to you- for my bit of the ocean here in Brazil. I get why my friend wrote about that connection. It is profound.
Love Letter
by Erica, Tufts 1+4 Participant
Dear Spain,
Is it possible to miss you even though I have three months more? The inherent kindness of strangers—their naturally open, welcoming, and talkative nature. The terrazas—why would anyone eat inside when the weather in Madrid is almost always beautiful, sunny, and breezy? The winter sunsets (and sunsets in general). The abnormally long hours of sunlight. The late nature of everything from sleep, work, and school to meals—I feel like I get more out of my day. The free museums—El Prado and Reina Sofia. The social nature of food and meals—people take their sweet time and chat.
The abono card—unlimited access to all of Madrid and Toledo for just 20 euros a month (as long as you’re young and broke)! The informative dancing diagrams on the metro marking every door. The recording of the woman on the metro telling me to watch my step on the way out…what a doll. The Cercanias trains. The abundance of things to do. Madrid tap water!! I’ve never known such quality. The fruterías. The Cien Montaditos and Cervecerías. The music and the way people dance. The fact that loitering in restaurants or cafes is completely acceptable (caveat: El Tigre doesn’t count). The Spanish lisp—I’ve grown to love it and use it(; The primero/segundo plato deals for just 10 euros. The casual beauty in every Spanish city or pueblo. The sunset strolls in El Retiro. The immunity I’ve seemed to develop for gorgeous cathedrals (slightly concerning, but a good problem to have). The ill-fated trips to El Rastro on Sunday mornings to spend all of my money. The one extremely happy, short, little fifty-year-old guy who’s sometimes playing the guitar in the Alonso Martinez metro stop and bounces/does a slight head-bang to the music while continuously grinning. The kebabs—a budget dinner for a standard 3.50 euros throughout the whole city! Patatas. Bravas. TORTILLA. Cocido and padron peppers. Garbanzos and lentejas. The prevalence of chocolate. Pisto—a newly discovered delicacy thanks to my majestic centaur OG travel bud RB. My host sisters’ “restaurant” Foxx—I can dine in for less than ten centimos. Warren and his one-of-a-kind humor and abundance of highly quotable lines. Enrique our sarcastic Spanish teacher. Feeling like a celebrity when I walk past some of the tables at lunch and the kids in my class scream my name just to say hi. The kids in my classes telling me small little details about their lives that they find exciting in the moment. The new student-teachers that I’m constantly meeting. The way people say my name. The besos. The complete Spanish immersion—no matter how much I try to soak it in now, I know I won’t realize how great it is until I leave. Thank you for all that has been and has yet to come.
Un abrazo muy fuerte,
Erica