Sometimes, when I look back at everything I have experienced so far, I can’t help but be amazed at how eclectic my life has always been. I have worked in such a wide array of different fields around the world, that it is arduous to find a common link between all of these wonderful and bizarre life experiences.
When I was 24 years old, I wanted to get a new job abroad, but could not find anything of interest, so I opted for the “au-pair” type of experience. Being an au-pair or a nanny is quite common, but for me it was a really unusual thing to do. I did not have this unconditional love for kids in general, and quite frankly, I found most of them boring, and I cared more about partying with young adults than about nursing little ones. I have since grown, and my views have evolved, but at 24 years old, children were not really my thing!
Still, this idea of being a super nanny stuck; it felt like a beautiful challenge, and I love a good challenge that allows me to push my limits and go beyond my comfort zone. I then created an account on a famous au-pair website, and discovered the universe of online speed-dating plausible “employers”. Luckily, I found a Spanish family online quite rapidly that corresponded well to my needs. I was not looking at a specific country, and Spain was one that seemed appealing. This family looked simple and easy to deal with. There was a mother, a father, and most importantly, two 3-year-old children. They lived in the city of Pamplona in the region of Navarra that is located on the North-West part of the country. I knew a few things about the town thanks to Ernest Hemingway’s classic novel The Sun Also Rises, and was also well-aware of their famous festival called San Fermin, the one where the bulls run in the streets of Pamplona. But that was all the knowledge I had! Oh, and I did not speak Spanish. At all. I would have to learn… I really do love challenges.
Part of me would like to tell all about this wonderful, life-changing Spanish experience that lasted for many months, yet another part of me wants to keep this for myself. It was such an emotional personal journey; a true turmoil of awe, frustration and fatigue then, and nowadays, of bittersweet nostalgia.
What I can share about my stay in Pamplona is that I would spend Mondays to Fridays with the kids, a boy and a girl. I would not sleep much, I would often go to the park, the library, a cafe… These children were my best friends. Seriously. It was a time in my life where I felt lonely and lost. These two adorable toddlers, they were smart and funny. They were spontaneous and open-minded. I loved them. I liked singing songs, drawing funny pictures, and building towers of wooden blocks with these two precious little souls. They awakened the mother in me, the maternal intuition that I never knew I even remotely had.
I must say that the whole family with who I lived was incredibly welcoming, contrarily to some horror stories I have heard about other crazy families who would treat their au-pair girl or nanny like a lesser human being. With my familia, I felt home. I was not treated like a simple employee, I was another child, a younger sister, a cousin, a family friend. On some weekends, we would cook together, run errands, watch the kids; we even spent Christmas as a family.
My only regret is that it took me a while to open up and to let go of my guards. The first two months that I spent there were very complicated, all because of me. There was a lot of miscommunication, mainly because we did not speak the same language, which was obviously a huge barrier. I had understood that I was to take care of the kids during the week, and that I could/should travel and stay away on weekends, which is what I did for the first two months. Afterwards, I understood that the parents wanted me to be closer to their family, to travel with me, that they were even a little insulted that I was spending my Saturdays and Sundays alone in other cities. And I too would have loved to have this whole human experience rather than spending my weekends traveling solo like I have always done. We had an emotional talk at the end of the second month, and things started to change at the beginning of the third month. Was it too late? Yes, I feel so. I feel like I missed a beautiful opportunity, that we could have had this deeper connection and mutual comprehension. Nevertheless, we ultimately ended up closer to one another, we shared countless meals and special moments, we spent a week at the beach near Barcelona, exchanged gifts during the holidays, argued and reconciled a few times… we had finally become a family.
Near the end of my stay, my Spanish had improved soooo much. I understood nearly everything and spoke almost perfectly. I felt more at home than ever in Pamplona. I had my habits, my very own routine, my favourite park, my favourite shops, my favourite cafe. I knew the language, the kids had become a little bit my own. We were living in sync, all was well. So when the time came that I had to leave, to go back home, to return to Montreal, it was so, so hard. Those goodbyes were some of the most emotional ones I have experienced. I finally felt like I had found my place, that I was standing at the right spot.
The morning of my departure, I gave the kids an adieu gift, Dr. Seuss’s The Cat in the Hat, their favourite book that I had so much difficulty to find before ultimately catching it in a small bookstore in Madrid. I did not want the children to see me cry so after they opened my present, I left the house quickly. The patriarch drove me to the bus station. We stayed unusually silent throughout the car ride. Our lack of words felt so heavy. At the station, the father of the family helped me with my luggage, then we hugged each other one last time, we promised to write each other often, and he left. Once he was gone, I broke down. I completely lost it, I fell down on a bench, intensely, pathetically weeping. I already missed those kids- my kids! my small best friends!- so much. I felt so far away already. I almost lost my Spanish.
I, like most human souls, have always hated goodbyes, always will. I hate break-ups, I hate parting, I hate the whole process of grieving. I cannot help but wonder: Why do I always get attached to people whom I know I will have to leave, and maybe never see again? Furthermore, I felt sad that those children would forget me. At 3 years old, they would not remember me in a matter of months. I would be the only one with those shared memories in mind. I suddenly felt so alone. After months and months of living in communion, in a noisy, lively, happy home, of always being surrounded by people, I now felt pathetic, miserable, and so alone. What a contrast.
I took the time to sob on a bench at the station. I called my mom in Montreal, even though it was way too early over there. I listened to music on the bus ride to Bilbao. I spent the rest of the day there reading, writing, wandering, missing them. I slept at the airport. I took my early flight in the morning to Brussels, then the next one to Montreal in the afternoon. That was it, I was gone. It’s been years now. Time has passed. I am still in touch with the parents, yet we haven’t had the chance to see each other since my departure. The family sends me pictures every month or so; the kids are all grown-up! They surely do not know who I am, but it’s okay. I know who they are, I am the only one who is lucky enough to remember the fun times we spent as a trio, my little best friends and I.
If I could say something to my spiritual Spanish children it would simply be thank you. Thank you for teaching me patience, for making me giggle, for showing me that I was a good human being, for helping me get out of a dark space, for exhausting me at times, and for incessantly loving me with your pure, innocent, bubbly souls. Children are known to be unfiltered and honest, and you two were so kind to me, so genuinely nice. You would fall asleep in my arms and ask me tons of random questions about life. I will always miss reading you books and running around chasing the birds. Thank you for your trust and your contagious laughs. You made me grow. At 24 years old, I was still a little bit of a teenager, but after taking on so many responsibilities, after caring for toddlers, I evolved into a real adult woman, more patient, more altruist, and extremely zen.
I think I left my heart in Pamplona, or at least a great part of it. This city is a precious one, a dear one. Will always be. I mean, how could I forget it? It taught me so much, was such an important aspect of my personal growth.
I guess that being a nanny in a Spanish city was my very own coming-of-age story.
Gracias Pamplona, te amo y espero verte pronto, xx
Bittersweet Travel Memories 