Attitude

Today was my last day in Huelva until Sunday the 12th.  Suffice it to say I'm glad to be getting away.  Typically the day that one leaves for a vacation is a good day--particularly for me, who loves traveling--but I was not so lucky.  In school a miscommunication over when I am leaving for Christmas Break led to a teacher reaming me out, in Spanish, in front of a second grade class.  I felt terrible--I had no intention of leaving before school ended unless I got the okay from the teachers, and they said it was okay.  Or at least I thought they did.  Apparently this teacher thought that I meant I would be leaving on Friday the 24th rather than Friday the 17th.  She accused me of showing "total lack of respect."  That really got things off on a good foot.  I then found out that I wouldn't get paid by the school until mid-December and possibly later, which means that I'll have to spend dollars instead of euros in Switzerland (not a country, as you may know, known for it's bargain basement pricing).  Then I got home to find out that the package sent from home containing my ski clothing hadn't arrived, which meant I would have to spend more of those American dollars (which are mercifully doing well against the European currencies at the moment) on renting everything from snow pants to a hat to gloves along with skis and boots.  Then, as the cherry on top, I missed my bus to Sevilla.

I am not a person who loses it easily, and I've definitely been closer at other times in my life than I was then--even other times in the past few months.  But watching the 4:00 bus pull out of its platform while I stood and clutched the ticket, unsure of which bus was mine, did not do wonders for my already fragile emotional state at that moment.  I went back to the ticket window and asked the woman there if she could exchange my ticket for 5:00 (thank goodness for frequent departures).  She could not, but told me to go talk to the bus station manager.  I couldn't find him.  I came back and just wanted to buy another ticket, but she told me that all he had to do was sign it and re-gave me directions to his office.  I couldn't find him again.  I found a bench, too ashamed to go back to the ticket window, and just sat, feeling sorry for myself about my crappy day.

You know, because that's so healthy.  My US cell phone has a banner which I have set to say "Attitude" so every time I open my phone (my Spanish one, alas, does not have a banner) I'm reminded of the quote by Charles Swindoll, who I recently (read: 30 seconds ago) learned was an American clergyman and writer.  The quote goes like this: "The more I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.  Attitude, to me, is more important than facts.  It is more important that the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do.  It is more important than appearance, giftedness, or skill.  It will make or break a company... a church... a home.  The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day.  We cannot change the past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way.  We cannot change the inevitable.  The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude... I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I respond to it."


Anyone who knows me well knows me that I'm a sucker for quotes.  This may be my favorite quote ever.  It's so eternally applicable, whether the Tigers just lost in a particularly heart-breaking manner, Ryan Air just inflexible-d you out of a trip to Rome, your boss is being unfair... or you're sulking on a paint fume-enveloped bench in the Huelva bus station.

I don't know what exactly triggered it, but I thought of that quote as I sat there in my poison cloud.  Feeling sorry for yourself gets you nowhere.  I know; I've seen me do it.  A minute later I stood up to have another look for the station manager.  Lo and behold, the door was right in front of me (in my defense, it was perfectly camouflaged with the wall).  The manager wasn't there, so I went back to the ticket booth and talked to the woman again, who gave me an exasperated but genuine smile as she stamped my ticket for the 4:00, making it valid for the 5:00.  Then I had a piece of apple tart in the bus station cafeteria.  The world always looks better after desert.

So here I sit, in my friends' piso in Sevilla, about to turn in for my early flight tomorrow.  I'm once again excited for Switzerland.  I just hope RyanAir doesn't lose my suitcase.