Our house, Can Grande, was home to five students, and two staff members during our stay in Alcúdia. During the workdays, it played host to the whole tea, for lunch, and on weekends it served as the group crash pad for wanderers after our nighttime adventures.
Our house had a roof top patio, which overlooked the town. Standing on the fourth story, from there one could see in all directions – toward the sea, toward the mountains, and toward the port where the city lights illuminated there sky at night. This roof acted as our meeting place for the few of us who required time at night to reflect on the day’s events, and this time quickly became lovingly referred to as “rooftime.”
Rooftime often involved glasses of wine, music, and a setting sun. After hiking up the three flights of stairs to get there, the little glass table with chairs around it was a welcome sight. We would gather here, settle into our seats, sip from our glasses of wine, and debrief the day. Our debrief’s included chime, or the exchange of gossip, as one might put it. But it was more than just an opportunity to share the drama from the day, or discuss the newest couples forming between the Spanish students. It acted as a time for us to grow closer to one another, too.
“Roof?” one of us would ask. “Yes,” the rest would reply. We would trek up the stairs, pour the wine, and sit together.
This ritual bonded us unlike anything else. It was the silver lining of a bad day, the motivation to make it back to the house after working in the heat, the nightcap before bed. We laughed, cried, and shared in such an intimate and communal way, it brought us closer together than I think any of us initially expected.
The greatest gift of this whole experience has been the friends I made in the dirt, and the discussions we had on the roof. We had been in class together for a whole semester by this point, spending two hours a week together in a conference room working on assignments and having discussions about the reading. But we never really knew each other until we arrived to Spain in late June. We knew each other’s names, sure, maybe even everyone’s major or hometown. But you can’t replicate the type of environment we were in, inside a classroom.
It took five months, and over 5,000 miles for us to become friends, but I’m so glad it happened when it did.
We may no longer have a roof to sit on, and we may be miles apart instead of together miles away, but “rooftime” still exists in one way or another, because those friendships we made? Yeah, they’re here to stay.
