To Sing Frogs Chapter 42c

Everyone was happier and more open to conversation after a good night’s sleep gave us wings. It was decided to have Mike ride with me in the front van to help navigate. Amy followed with everyone else.

Sarah and Marina were anxious to talk so Yana tried to keep three-year-old Sasha busy while Anya translated. The little girl didn’t want to be entertained, she wanted to captivate her mother’s attention. Yana was a chip off the block. Later, Amy told me about how patient the young woman was, the tactics she used to keep Sasha’s attention, and the unbridled effort she put into keeping the spoiled “only child” from monopolizing Anya. What Amy described was a woman who had learned how to work with children by example. A perfect mom had raised her.

 

 

Mike guided us directly to the home on the small village street and we parked the vans in front of the house. Before we were even completely out, Julia, Josephina, and José-Manuel had rushed from the house to greet us. Mike introduced us to his Spanish parents. José-Manuel shook my hand energetically and he and Amy exchanged besitos (European welcome kisses applied to each cheek). Josephina and I did the same. Then Amy threw her arms around the Spanish mother who had cared for her son. “Thank you for taking care of Mike. Thank you. Thank you.” Only a mother who has sent her child to a foreign country for an extended period of time could understand my wife’s feelings for Josephina.

Soon Julia’s grandparents were standing in front of the house for introductions. We were quickly escorted into the home where a king’s feast was waiting.

Paella (pie-ay-ah), Spain’s traditional dish was spilling over from a large short pan. Yellow saffron flavored rice was mixed with chicken, dozens of shrimp, and diced bell peppers of multiple colors. Fresh breads accompanied plates loaded with various expensive cheeses and Jamon Serrano (Mountain Ham), a dry-cured Spanish delicacy. It was served raw and sliced thin as paper. Red and green grapes filled two large serving bowls and wedges of watermelon filled others. The food was not half-gone when none of us could eat another bite.

Mike was happy to help but Josephina and José Manuel seemed anxious to communicate with me as much as possible without a translator. With my distant memories of Portuguese and even older experiences with classroom Spanish, the communication was labored (if not butchered). Even so, shared circumstances had made us even closer friends than time together could have. It was an incredible experience to be able to communicate directly. The bonds wove tighter as we helped each other with words and tried to anticipate meanings when language could not be understood. Our added efforts to assist each other enhanced the experience.

José-Manuel was skeptical about taking the almost two-hour drive to Cantarranas where The Villa of the Flowers was located. He had to work the next morning. With the employment situation the way it was during that time of economic crisis, Spaniards didn’t mess around if they had a job. Julia begged her father mercilessly and relentlessly until Josephina pulled her away and asked her to be patient. The little girl had a better chance of getting what she wanted if her father decided to go because he wanted to. Such conversations have taken place behind my back at my own home on many, many occasions.

Finally the father relented. They would stay one night at the villa, but no more.

 

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