Wishes do come true
Hello everyone and welcome back to The Only Living Girl in Madrid.
This week we had yet another random run into two new friends I’d met earlier this week. We played trivia together. No, we did not win. Yes, we ate nachos and had fun. Further proof that Madrid is just a TV set with a rotating set of characters. You really can’t make any of this shit up, which is why I am forcing myself to sit down once a week and keep this newsletter going even if I don’t want to…
This week flew by. Monday, I got the last immigration document I needed. Now, all I have to do is pick up my TIE, and then, I can legally reside in Spain for over 90 days. Woohoo! On my 90th day I should throw a big party, and we can count down until midnight and ring in my 91st day like it’s New Year's.
I only had school for two days because of the immigration appointment and the long weekend that marks the Spanish version of Columbus Day/the Fourth of July? It’s called el Día de Hispanidad. There was a military parade complete with a Top Gun-style air show and fireworks later that night. The fireworks were pretty impressive considering they were shot off of a building in close proximity to the crowd of spectators in a country where fire alarms and escapes are not that common. However, by USA standards, they were pretty average. The whole show lasted about 15 minutes, which is about how long my dad’s backyard fireworks shows take. But it was still pretty cool. And I really can’t complain because they played the instrumental version of Simon and Garfunkel’s hit song “El Condor Pasa (If I Could).” They played it because it’s technically a sample of a Peruvian folk song, but for the purposes of our TV show, it was Simon and Garfunkel because they are doing the show’s soundtrack. They have decided to put aside their differences in the final quarter of their lives just for The Only Living Girl in Madrid. Thanks guys. (Don’t tell Garfunkel that production is actually paying Paul Simon more.)
At the fireworks, my roommate, Mahshid, said that we had to make a wish when they started. She always wishes on fireworks because you can’t always wait around for a shooting star. So we did. I can’t tell you my wish right now because that means it won’t come true, but I can tell you about the last wish I made, the wish that led me here.
When I was studying abroad in Bath, my parents visited Hawaii, and on that trip, they bought me a little necklace. It had a hamsa hand pendant attached to a gold string. The directions said to tie the string around my neck and make a wish, so in my Bath room, beside my twin bed dressed with little boy bedding, I made my wish: that the next phase of my life would be just as good as the last. I don’t know what I meant by this at the time, but I knew that I loved living abroad, that I was happy, and that I didn’t want that feeling to end even though my time in Bath had to. When the necklace broke, the wish would come true.
I moved back to the States and began my summer job working for The Kenyon Review. It was that summer that I met with the dean of academic affairs and told him that I was interested in Fulbright, but I didn’t think I had enough teaching experience to do it. He asked me a couple of questions and concluded that I did have the experience. I just had to twist it to fit the application. So I got started researching and writing. I remember I was so hyped that I did a Peloton yoga class in Spanish LOL.
It was also that summer that I grew closer with my KR boss and writing mentor Elliott Holt. She wrote one of my letters of recommendation, and when she finished, she took me out to coffee and told me that the last time she wrote a letter of rec for Fulbright, her student got the award. At the moment, I was flattered by her extreme faith in me and also slightly panicked that I would break her streak. It was in Bath, that I met another one of my writing mentors Suzannah Dunn. She wrote my other letter of recommendation. Everything was aligning. I just couldn’t see it yet.
I wrote my theses. I took my exams. I performed improv shows. I went to parties. I laughed with my friends. Time passed by, and suddenly, it was spring, and I was a semi-finalist anxiously awaiting the email that would tell me that there had been an update in my Fulbright portal. The week my wish necklace broke, there was a rumor that the results were going to come out Friday, but they never did. That day, I sat in my room refreshing my inbox, and nothing came. I felt so distraught until my grandma texted me that she could see me in Spain in a cathedral lighting a candle because I’d made it, and I was saying thank you. After that, I was okay. It was like blowing out a candle. All the tension had left my body, and I was at peace. But the peace didn’t come from a feeling of indifference, from feeling like what will be will be. It came from an insane voice inside of me that knew that my grandma was right, somewhere out there in the future I had already won, and I was saying thank you.
The news arrived the following Monday. I went to improv practice, bought a pack of tequila High Noons to celebrate, and went to the radio station to do a round of CD Roulette with Shea. The news that I had won spread fast around my campus. People came up to me to congratulate me or threw up their hands in celebration when they saw me on Middle Path. I felt immense gratitude, pride, amazement. I had really done it. Last week, I wrote that I included “Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want” by the Smiths because maybe this version of myself would be the lucky one. But the thing is, I already am the lucky one. I got what I wanted, and now, I get to enjoy it. How lucky is that?
Thank you.
Find the pony,
Maddie
P.S. I also made a wish in a real life wishing well in Segovia. The first time I threw my copper five-cent coin over my shoulder I missed the well. If you know me, this lack of coordination is not surprising, but part of me wonders if it’s because I tried to make the same wish twice. The universe wouldn’t let me repeat my firework wish, so I picked up my coin, chose a new wish, and tried again. This time the coin landed in the well. The water below rippled. Proof of the wish’s success.
The failed first wish reminded me of what my sister told me about her wish necklace from Hawaii. She said that when she put it on, it wouldn’t stay tied. The wish was never meant to come true.
Before I made my wish in the well, I watched two older women make their own wishes. Because they couldn’t see behind them as they wished, I stood there and reassured them that their coins had fallen into the well.
I hope their wishes come true.
No playlist this week because I’m listening to the same things on repeat: my walking around Madrid main character playlist (I added some new songs, so it's different from last week) and Gregory Alan Isakov’s new album (Appaloosa Bones)
Note: Views are my own and do not reflect those of The Fulbright Program or La Comisión Fulbright de España.