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More Alike Than Different

7/20/2017

2 Comments

 
I gazed out the car window at the green, gold, and brown patchwork of fields.  I’d viewed a scene like this before, more than a month ago.  Then I was in the Midwest United States.  Now I was on a totally different continent—in Northwest Spain. 
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We passed cozy villages, each circling a church, usually the largest building in the town.  Often there were also full or partial walls, a fortress, or a castle.  Sometimes in the middle of a field, or on a grassy hill, by the side of the freeway sat rocky ruins of a tower or keep.  We were definitely not in Kansas. 

However, despite the distinctively European essence, the rest of the scene—the emerald green of the grass, the rolling hills, the yellow wheat fields, the deep rich earth of the waiting ground, even the little churches—looked so much like the landscape of Nebraska, Iowa, Ohio, and Missouri, as we had crossed the United States to move our daughter back from Virginia. 
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 Then I’d marveled at the numerous greens of the vegetation, at the variations of color in the soil, the white steeples poking up in the middle of a small town.  The countryside passed by us as we drove the interstate, the toll roads, and a few curving back roads in four long days—Utah, Wyoming, Nebraska, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and Virginia.  We packed my daughter’s possessions into my Rav 4 and my daughter’s Civic over the next two days, and then returned—Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky, Illinois, Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, and Utah.   Ten days.  Although I am a voracious reader, I spent those days staring out the window, taking photos of the striking landscape. 
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The road trip had also been a bit of a pilgrimage to my husband’s growing-up city of Pittsburgh.  We spent a day visiting his old house, schools, neighborhood, and church.  We also passed close to my hometown of Kansas City, Missouri, but had only stopped to eat a pork tenderloin sandwich for lunch and to take pictures of the new-to-me LDS temple. 

Six weeks later, the whole family was in Spain, visiting the area of my husband’s LDS mission—another pilgrimage for him after 40 years!  Besides many of the tourist-y destinations in northwest Spain, places he’d always wanted to see, we revisited cities where he’d served and places he’d toured on Preparation-days, even met with people he had known.  I was the only one in the family who didn’t speak the language, as my daughter and son also served Spanish-speaking missions.  But language wasn’t a huge problem.  People are caring.  And kind gestures and smiles go a long way. 
​Obviously, we were immersed in a different culture from the United States—not only European, but Spanish.  I have traveled the world—the whole family has—but this time, in this country, the whispers of Roman, Moorish, and Iberian peoples sifted their way into my soul and my heart.  History isn’t just studied here—it is lived.  Modern and ancient buildings stand side-by-side as children walk down the street to school.  Countryside caves contain Paleolithic artwork.  Architecture in villages and cities marries Christian, Islamic, and Jewish elements.  Shops and castles, even whole towns, close for mediodia—a much-needed, but inconvenient, afternoon break for tourists.  Eating dinner before 9pm marks you as an outsider.  Spanish tortilla and chocolate may be eaten at any meal—or for a snack.  Masculinity is central, but femininity conveys its own power. 
​Whatever the differences, the similarities were comforting: the importance of family, of the land, of freedom; the thoughtfulness and generosity of strangers; the great expanse of countryside.  Invitations to home-cooked meals with my husband’s long-lost friends; apartment owners leaving us lists of things to do, favorite restaurants, and maps of the city; a tour guide translating the Spanish tour he’s already given into English so I could understand the history and beauties of prehistoric cave paintings; cheek-kisses from church members; and smiles from strangers on the street—all of these sweet gestures more than made up for the frustrations of not being able to locate a hotel; walking uphill everywhere we went (not even kidding); wandering around outside of a castle, instead of inside, because it’s mediodia; and finding absolutely no parking anywhere in Spain. 
 
How beautiful that, in visiting another part of the world, we discovered we are more alike than we are different! 
2 Comments
Amanda Davis
7/21/2017 10:58:33 pm

I love this, Bonnie! I remember you telling us that what is personal is universal, and what is universal is personal. So true!

This post also reminds me of Maya Angelou's poem, "Human Family."

https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/human-family-by-maya-angelou

And your pictures are breathtaking!

Reply
Bonnie
7/22/2017 09:49:01 am

Thank you, Amanda! Love you! I enjoy Maya Angelou more often than not--and this is a good one. I love her repetition at the end--3x. Very symbolic. Hugs to you!

Reply



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    Bonjour!  I'm Bonnie.  I love learning, travel, reading, writing, photography, and all things French.  I'm especially passionate about Cultural education, Agency education, and using history as the hook for all learning.  Photo creds are also mine, unless otherwise noted. 

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