Sketches of Spain

I knew that studying abroad, first in Spain, then in Asia andAustralia, would open my eyes and my heart to dozens of newexperiences, emotions and realizations. This very fact was one ofthe temptations that drew me to traveling and learning in foreignterritories.

Over dinner at my adopted European residence, my Spanish hostbrother and I presented passionate cases for and against theAmerican presence in Iraq. My professors at la Fundación(our SMU campus in Madrid) have shared their opinions about violentyoung Americans, especially in high schools. My Spanish Senoraexpressed her personal disappointment in the lack of voter turnoutat American polls, particularly among my age group.

My American friends and I have tried to blend into Spanishculture and pretend that our home country is everything from Chinato France. Within our group, we have explored our feelings aboutAmerican culture in other countries, impressed through pop cultureand such capitalistic ventures as Starbucks and McDonalds (however,that didn’t stop me from diving into a frappuccino after along day of classes, while others calls the MadrilenoMcDonald’s cuisine of beer and French fries “AmericanTapas”).

This past weekend, three friends and I embarked on an aquaticvoyage to Morocco, an Islamic country situated 14 kilometers southof Spain with only the deep blue straights of Gibraltar to serve asthe natural boundary. From the beaches of Tangier, Morocco, we wereable to see the outline of the distant Spanish coast. Despite theirgeographic proximity, there are obvious disparities in religion,wealth and language.

Even the giant hull of our ferry couldn’t cut through theswells smoothly, so my travel companions and I took refuge inside,laying down on cushioned benches and positioning our bodiesuncomfortably on and around our luggage, trying with all our mightto keep our lunches down. However, the thick fog of cigars andcigarettes only worsened my own upchuck reflexes, so I retreated tothe outdoor deck for fresher air.

Another traveler enjoying the brisk night air struck up aconversation with me. I learned his name was Abdullah, his home wasin Kuwait, and he would be visiting friends in Tangier. He wassurprised when I told him that we would only be in Tangier for theweekend. He described the other major Moroccan cities to me, as iftheir apparent beauty would be able to entice me into stayinglonger. I had to tell him what our professors and many others hadalready advised me — it simply isn’t safe for fourgirls, especially Americans, to travel for great lengths of time inan Islamic country, given recent terrorism, especially the Mayattacks in Casablanca.

“Oh, no” he told me. “We love your country andare so thankful for everything you have done. Please do not thinkthat because the loudest Muslims are hateful that we all are. Intruth, we owe you everything — for your medicine, protectionand technology.” I was shocked and immediately assumed he wasexaggerating as a way of defending himself; afterall, the presstouts figures about the hatred and anger that the Middle East hasfor Americans. I’ve seen pictures on magazine covers of Arabchildren holding machine guns and cheering after the September 11attacks. I thanked him for the kind words and rejoined my friendsinside.

As we were getting ready to disembark from our boat, Abdullahreturned, this time with pictures of his own to show me. Theyshowed his family and his house in Kuwait; in one photo, there wasan American flag hanging from a front window. Anoterh showed hisown son, who he told me is 4 years old, in the arms of his mother,clutching Old Glory in his tiny first.

Abdullah told me more about his children (one is studying in NewOrleans) and thanked me again for helping his country, as if I waspersonally responsible. He said that he holds dinner parties forthe Americans stationed in his area as an expression ofgratitude.

I know this sounds like a cheesy tale from a patrioticReader’s Digest, but I was amazed. I know that not everybodyfeels like this man and his family do, but the power of his smileand his eyes are enough to make me appreciate even more thestrength of our country, on many different levels.

Even now, as I’m writing this, I get chills thinking aboutthe importance of my own freedom and how lucky I am to be anAmerican.