The events of Sept. 11, 2001, not only shook the land of the brave and the home of the free, they sent waves of sadness across the oceans. I went to the U.S. Embassy in Madrid that day around 5 p.m. (10 a.m. central time). Camera crews and officers crowded the gates.

It was true, the heartbreaking news I had received earlier that day during my Islam class. It was beginning to take form as I looked around the embassy and later watched the news.

The television monitors in the metro stations repeated the attack, showing the airplanes crashing into the twin towers. While watching, several people came up to us and expressed their sorrow, in Spanish. Even if you had never heard or spoken a word of Spanish, their expressions and gestures could still be understood and felt. Apparently, even with my attempts to blend into Spanish society, I was still obviously American.

The United States Embassy warned American citizens living in Spain to speak minimal English in public and to keep a low profile.

A sign was later posted that those wishing to lay flowers at the embassy could do so on the posted days. I went to the embassy again a week and a day after the events. There was a tank sitting in front of the building, with an armed officer inside. We had our bags checked and were directed to a line waiting to enter the embassy. I waited in this line that seemed to closely resemble that of loved ones waiting at a funeral to see the deceased. People went in one door, looking somber and confused, and exited through another door a few feet away, with a few dabbing their eyes and giving hugs.

There were four books in which you could write a message to America. Some wrote a little, some wrote a lot. Some wrote in Spanish, some wrote in English. As I waited in line under the U.S. flag at half-staff, wrote in the book and watched as flowers were added to a growing pile, I couldn’t stop humming our national anthem.

Jen Fuhler is a junior studying in Madrid, Spain, this semester.