Video #6

Click here to hear students favorite spanish expressions!

One year later! Woah

Today, one year later from the day I left my American life behind and embarked on a Spanish adventure, I can honestly say that while I miss my study abroad life, I am happy where I am...and I did not expect that.  I am okay, and the transition back to Denver and college life was easier than I thought it would be.  I have great memories of my 8 months in Spain, but 8 months was the perfect amount of time, for me.   Now I feel silly for being so incredible anxious about re-entering DU college life.

Since I have been back at school I have had a lot of people ask me if I miss Spain.  The answer is complex and multidimensional, yet it's simple.

Of course I miss my friends in Salamanca. Of course I miss speaking and hearing Spanish everyday.  I miss my long walk to and from Salamanca's famous Plaza Mayor, and I miss the yummy, home cooked meals that my host mother would feed me twice a day.  I miss being able to buy a plane ticket to Paris or Budapest or Copenhagen then exploring those new cities and experiencing something totally foreign and new.  Most of all, I miss the simplicity of my life in Salamanca, because other than classwork (which was quite easy), I had essentially no responsibilities.

As I have learned not only this past year, but in my college experience, time can be unfairly fleeting, and some days I do not know where the past three years went.  But these transitions have helped me define myself.  Coming back from Salamanca was a transition, yes...but it was not as bad as I thought it would be.  I came out of it a changed and different person.

Because though my past weekend was  plagued with grocery shopping, challenging senior-year coursework readings, and trying to answer the age-old question of "What are you going to do when you graduate?,"  and I did not go on a weekend getaway to the Cliffs of Moher or have an intercambio with an Alberto or Miguel or Lara, that's okay with me.  In fact, I am excited for this year and for this next chapter in my life to unfold.

Bluntly put, yes, I miss Spain.  I remember it in the nostalgic way I remember my old high school friends, or the year I went to summer camp when I was 9, or my carefree Vermont childhood.  But we cannot go back in time.  I left Spain having had accomplished (almost) everything I wanted to do, and that is a good feeling.  Living in Spain gave me the chance to redefined myself and get lost in a foreign culture, and I figured a few things out along the way.  I miss it, but I am where I am supposed to be.

Even more interviews!

Now that I'm back in the land of reliable, high speed internet I can share with you all the videos I have compiled about my time abroad. Here are links to more interviews, with more to come in the next couple weeks! Enjoy :)

Interviews: Part IV
Interviews: Part V

Interviews: Part I

Last week I tried to bring my mac back to life and increase its memory.  In doing so, I accidentally deleted the 25 imovie projects I had been working on. Whoops.  No worries, all the 500-or-so original clips were backed up on my external hard drive. Needless to say, last week was a bit stressful trying to figure it all out....but I'm slowly chipping away at it, and by the end of summer I hope to complete the documentary project I am making about study abroad in Salamanca.

CLICK HERE to watch Part I, the Introduction video to my Salamanca Interviews!


and CLICK HERE to watch Part II!

Coming Home

I can hardly believe it; I'm home.  After 3,400 miles, three airports, and 30 hours of traveling, I have arrived.

Surprisingly, I'm not upset, and I have not yet cried.  Believe me, I tried; standing in the Plaza Mayor for the last time, I waited for the tears. Saying goodbye outside of Paniagua to all these friends I have made, I thought maybe that would be the moment.  But nothing.  Walking home for the last time past the duck pond and under the bridge, then leaving my apartment and thanking my host mom, that didn't do it either.  But as I knelt in the backseat of our coachbus alongside Mark and Somer (who have also been here for the year), and as we looked out the window as the lights of Salamanca faded in the distance, we started laughing.

I may not ever be back in this city again, with all these amazing friends, as a 20-something-year old with nothing to lose, and I am ending this HUGE chapter in my life. This thing called Responsibility waits for me in the near future, so I have ever reason to be scared and upset and sad.  Life is moving on, and I should be sad, right?  But I'm not. I am ready.  Change is happening, and I am incredibly excited.  And I think I am ready.

Words cannot describe how nice it was to sleep in my own bed last night, to wake up at home and see my mom, and to drink a glass of fresh milk with breakfast.  IT IS OVER.  My 8 months abroad, this grand adventure, has brought me back to where it all started.  HOME.  As I drove through the Vermont countryside today, Salamanca felt like a thousand worlds away, and it's so strange that life there will go on without me.   Last week, my friend Mark learned an expression from his host mom, "pero en la vida siempre hay que pasar la pagina," meaning that in life, we always have to turn the page. 

gracias por todo!

I started writing this letter in mid March, when a wave of kids were leaving Salamanca. Premature, yes, but I want to say this the best way I possibly can. I want to articulate this perfectly. As one of my final posts, this may be the most important post I write, at least for me. It is the most sincere thank you to everybody who has helped me accomplish my year abroad.  I am not being over-dramatic when I say that this year has changed my life.


As I write this, I am sitting at the end of my bed looking at my suitcase, zipped up and packed to the brim.  My pictures have been taken off the walls, and my shelf is clear of my books, lotions, and journals.  I have printed off my itinerary and I leave Spain in less than 48 hours.  This is unreal, but it's happening.  So here it goes: Thank you to all the people that have made this the most unforgettable adventure of my life.

Thank you Mom and Dad for believing in me and supporting me. You never once told me I should come back home, but told me the doors were always open if I chose to leave. The decision was mine, and no matter what I did, that would be okay. You never let me get too down on myself when I was frustrated and homesick, but you listened anyway.

Thank you to all the people that came to visit me; Dad, Melissa, Mom, Caleb, Grammy, Carrie, Sarah, Lauren; I am so glad I got to show you all my home, and it meant so much that you would come all this way.  

Thank you to ISA and DU for the constant support and unwavering presence.  Thank you to my host family for feeding me and housing me and putting up with my broken Spanish.

Thank you to all the friends I have made here in Salamanca. Whether were friends for a couple weeks or 9 months, ALL OF YOU shaped my experience. Each of you taught me something, whether I realize it or not.

Thank you to all the friends who hosted me when I traveled to Italy, Germany, Sweden, Norway and beyond. Meeting you and your families and families was an unforgettable experience.  Know that you always have a place to visit wherever I am living!

Thank you to the lady from Madrid-Barajas airport who found my iPod and contacted me to give it back. Thank you to the intercambios I have met who have helped teach me Spanish. Thank you to the girl who drew my portrait on a train between Florence and Venice for changing how I think about people. Thank you to the people who read my blog and then emailed me and told me that I shouldn’t be scared, and that I could do it and not to be afraid.  If you’re reading this and I’ve never met you, thanks for tuning in. It has been awesome connecting with people all over the world through blogging.  

Thank you to all the friends who listened to me when I was sad and scared and upset and over-emotional and not sure what to do. Some of you cried alongside me while we went to get churros or kebobs, and others simply listened. 

To my ISA year-long friends: WE DID IT. We made it 9 months in this place. Not only did we make it, but we somehow managed to fall in love with this city. You guys are truly the greatest friends, and I’m not sure what Salamanca would be like without you. Look at us: we survived a year in Salamanca, Spain!

I believe in fate. I believe that things happen for a reason. We control what we do, where we go, and how we handle ourselves in the situations we face. But have no control over the people we meet and the circumstances we are put in; we only have control over how we deal with it. I still don’t know where I will be a year from now, or what will happen in my life, but I do know that I am so very lucky to have had this experience. I have no doubt that from living here and traveling, I will have the confidence and knowledge to go forward and follow my dreams.

And I cannot wait to see what's next!


ps: I'm in the process of making a short documentary film about study abroad, should be up in the next couple weeks!

la ultima semana

Enjoying warm, summer-like evenings in the Plaza mayor

Finally, the rain stopped, the temperatures rose, and Salamanca came back to life.  This past weekend, my last weekend in Salamanca, was unforgettable.  Outside each afternoon enjoying the warmth and presence of the crowds, I never wanted it to end.  Despite the annoying book fair that has been set up in the middle of the Plaza, taking away from the beauty of the open space, the concerts and small festivals that were put on over the weekend were surprisingly fun to stop and listen to.

"I should be studying" was my motto all weekend...but no regrets, because I have confidence things will be okay.  When push comes to shove, I can study. Vale, vale.

I have LESS THAN A WEEK (dios mio estoy!) to enjoy Salamanca and to wrap things up. There is a tour I want to take, a couple photographs I want to make, a couple interviews to finish, and goodbyes to be said.  Then it's off to Vermont, the homeland. Which I am getting QUITE excited for!  The feelings of missing Salamanca, my friends, etc. I think will be pushed out of mind for a while as I readjust and move forward.  Or at least I hope so.

On a side note: Currently, I am working on a short documentary film about students reflections on study abroad and living in Salamanca.  After I am finished with finals and packing, I hope to finish it and publish it here, to share with everyone about why this experience is so awesome *(not just according to me).

PS: Happy Mother's Day momma guz!

if you are reading this...

If you are reading this, chances are you’re interested in studying abroad.  I am not here to preach why study abroad is ‘life changing,’ to convince you why it is ‘totally awesome,’ and to explain how much fun I had living abroad.  Chances are, if you’re reading this, we already have enough in common: we are seeking adventure, and we like to push the limits.   This year, I am studying abroad for two semesters in Salamanca, Spain.  It has been the best decision I have ever made, and the hardest choice I could have made. I will start by saying: it has not always the fantasy I thought it would be...

click here to read the rest of an essay I wrote for DU's study abroad blog about my decision making process to stay abroad for a year.

the farewell dinner

I'm a just a few finals, a couple suitcases needed to be packed, a whole bunch of goodbyes, and a final bus ride to Madrid from ending this chapter in my life.  The Time Has Come, my friends, the time has come.  And I cannot believe it. I cannot believe that I only have one more Saturday night out with my friends,  one last Sunday afternoon to be spent by the river, and (finally!) one more 9 am Monday morning class. It is only hitting me now that when Jen's boyfriend comes to visit in 2 and a half weeks from Scotland, I'll be long gone. This place will all just be un sueño, a dream.  That life will go on in Salamanca without me...how strange  !

Last night was the "Farewell Dinner" with ISA, the program I came here with.  We ate in a nice restaurant where Spanish food was served, and where I proceeded to eat way too many croquetas as I thought about how time is running out.  I left feeling uneasy and apprehensive, not wanting to deal yet with the transition of going back home.  But as I walked around with my friend Somer, who has also been here for the year, I realized that, perhaps: my time has come.

We have seen so many students and friends come and go. We have made so many friends and said many goodbyes.  And we realized this: Salamanca is the first of many places we will fall in love with and call home.  I know there is no way I could possibly stay here forever, and it will always, always be hard to say goodbye.  But we will always have the memories and the friendships.  So this weekend, I am going to focus on living in the moment, enjoying mis "ultimas dias" here in España, and taking none of it for granted.

I am off to study for finals (ugh!), wish me luck!

the place where I intend on spending my weekend, el rio 

The Old Man and the Apartment

6 months ago I had incredible anxiety about deciding to stay in Salamanca for the year.  Now, with a little over a week to go before I depart, I am incredibly anxious to go back home.

Sometimes I wonder: what will it feel like to be back in Vermont, to drive down the highway, listening to my ipod, hearing songs that remind me of Spain?  Will I be sad because it is behind me, or happy for the memories?   Okay, obviously I am beyond excited to see my family again. I mean, we haven't been together in Vermont since June of last year!  What I am most excited for:

1. To eat a meal together as a family. And to drink fresh milk
2. To sleep in my own bed, in my own room
3. To walk my dog and see my neighborhood again
4. To get a whole wheat bagel with cream cheese from the Bagel Market. YUM.
5. To drive in the Vermont countryside

But is is moments like THIS that I am going to miss, that I hope I never forget:

Dusk is settling as I walk home for dinner.  Though I have only been in Salamanca for a few weeks, it already feels as though I know this city well.  I have walked around the pond with the ducks, past the apartment complex with the old Franco symbols, and after the next corner and beyond the bridge is the entrance to my flat.  As I pass the bus stop, a flicker from above catches my eye.  I look up to see warm, golden light spilling out of a second story apartment window, illuminating the chilly October sky.  

Walking closer, I can see that decorations cover the interior walls.  "That's strange," I think, because my Spanish family keeps their walls white and stark, making for a very clean, very organized apartment.  Because that is all I know, I figured all Spanish homes were the same; predictably bare and boring.   From what I can see, old maps, certificates, paintings of landscapes, old portraits, and war metals clutter these walls. I can just barely make out a bookshelf and a fireplace against the opposite wall. But what grabs my attention is the outline of a man, sitting by the window in an armchair.  Is he listening to music, reading a book, having a conversation with somebody sitting across from him? I will never know, because it is just far enough away and so far up that I can only see the decorated walls and the outline of the chair.

I pause only briefly, because I need to hurry home for dinner, and it is getting chilly outside! Walking home, I would like to think that he must be an interesting old man with quite a story to tell.  With all that artwork and so many books, how could he be boring?  I have since walked down this sidewalk many times, and when I remember, I like to look up and find that 2nd floor window.  When the window is illuminated and when he is sitting there, it gives me a sense of peace and comfort.  I have left to travel,  I have gotten lost in so many cities, I have had adventures, I have met so many people, and I have had so much fun.  But whenever I return, I can always find him there, sitting, waiting, watching the world go by, and that makes me feel at home again.  That the simple things never change, that is when Salamanca felt like home.  

I will leave soon and say goodbye to this city, until, possibly...forever.  I'll go home, return to school and begin another chapter in my life.  He will never know who I was; I am just another person outside the window.  Yet when I recall memories of this place I have called home, I will always remember the old man in the apartment.

makin' lists

In part of my saying goodbye process to Spain, I have compiled a couple of lists! They definitely contradict each other, but that's kind of what makes this experience so frustrating, amazing, and unforgettable.

50 things I will NOT be missing about Spain

1. Lettuce + oil + salt = a salad
2. Really slow people you can't pass on the sidewalk
3. 90% of stores closing between 2-5 pm
4. Bad reggaeton music
5. Over-aggressive Spanish men
6. Lack of costumer service, everywhere
7. Sharing a really tiny yellow room
8. Not having any privacy in my homestay
9. Boiled vegetables
10. Expensive peanut butter that tastes bad
11. Super boring classes
12. Ham, for dinner, always
13. Dinky Spanish phone
14. Running out of credit on my phone
15. Language barrier 
16. Feeling clueless
17. Creepy policemen
18. Spanish women
19. Converters for appliances
20. Conversion of dollar to euro
21. Ryanair staff
22. Really easy classes (did I already say that?)
23. My bed
24. Rita (my host-dog. Ugh)
25. Dog poop on sidewalks
26. Smoking cigarettes 
27. Being unemployed
28. Having to walk everywhere
29. Lunch at 3pm
30. Dinner at 9pm
31. Military time
32. 6 hour time difference between me and home
33. Feeling disconnected
34. Bad Mexican food 
35. The bugs on the bathroom floor in the wee hours of the morning
36.  Breakfast cookies
37.  Mini muffs
38.  The begging gypsies outside of Carrefour
39.  Dryers that do not exist
40.  Laundry machines in kitchens
41.  Men dressed as clowns with their faces popping out of a stroller, who squeal "guaapaaaa" when girls walk by
42.  Tile floors instead of carpet
43.  Bland, flavorless food
44.  Expensive deodorant  
45.  Hard white bread at mealtimes 
46.  Boxed milk
47.  San Boal
48.  Streaming TV shows online
49. My loud neighbors
50. The view out my bedroom window

100 things I will miss about Spain & Salamanca

1. 2 besos on the cheek to say hello
2. Jamon iberico (the good kind) 
3. The ability to walk everywhere 
4. Hearing little kids speak Spanish 
5. The Plaza Mayor 
6. Siesta time 
7. That leaving a tip is optional 
8. Train rides through the Spanish countryside 
9. Real Madrid vs Barcelona futbol games 
10. Don Simon 
11. That park by the library where I watch the sunset 
12. Boys in purple colored pants 
13. Shoe stores everywhere 
14. Zara 
15. Churros con chocolate at Valor 
16. The Duque 
17. Seeing the sunrise after staying out all night 
18. Overcoming a language barrier 
19. Learning new words 
20. Intercambios 
21. Old people hanging out all day in parks 
22. The rock I found that overlooks the river, where I go to think 
23. Old men on benches 
24. Pinzones 
25. Fancy Fridays 
26. Cobblestone streets 
27. The street cleaners 
28. Sitting in the middle of the Plaza Mayor to watch people 
29. Pandas 
30. Litros at Paniagua 
31. The euro (it's like Monopoly money) 
32. Old women in wool coats 
33. Art in the Prado 
34. Writing this blog 
35. Jamon flavored chips 
36. My friends (duh) 
37. Days by the river 
38. The Puente Romano 
39. 800 year old churches 
40. Tapas 
41. Simplicity 
42. The "No pasa nada" mentality 
43. My host dad, Felix 
44. The storks that live in the bell towers 
45. Las Conchas, my library 
46. The man who plays his violin while his old, beautiful dog is curled up at his feet 
47. Sounds of church bells 
48. A warm jamon y queso empanada for 1.10 euro, from La Taberna de La Abuela before my 1:30 class 
49. Blanco 
50. La Chupiteria 
51. Sonia, my mujeres profesora 
52. Kebobs 
53. The 16 hour store 
54. Hearing British accents 
55. Speaking in English and nobody around me can understand a word 
56. Being foreign 
57. Carrefour 
58. Snow in the Plaza Mayor 
59. Bull running 
60. Landing in a new city, seeing a new country 
61. Churros con chocolate 
62. Jamón bocadillos 
63. Seeing the lights turn on in the plaza 
64. Sunsets on my walk home 
65. Dancing and singing to "Ai se eu te pego," shamelessly 
66. The ducks on my walk home 
67. Spanish bachelor parties 
68. Cute Spanish boys 
69. Birds chirping out my window
70. The music collection at the library
71. The ISA office & staff
72. Spaniards in costumes for no reason
73. Dar-ing un paseo 
74. Paella
75. Having zero responsibilities 
76. Bombones 
77. Arasmus friends
78. Corte Ingles
79. Sonia, my mujeres professer
80. Lazy afternoons by the river
81. Bumming cigarettes from Spanish strangers
82. Random religious holidays 
83. Excursions around Spain
84. San Boal
85. 50  cent coffee machine
86. Dinner at 9 pm
87. Overwhelming amounts of free time
88. Spanish tortilla  
89.  Very clean streets 
90.  Babies in European hipster outfits
91. Hearing conversations in Spanish, French, Japanese, Russian, English, German, and Dutch all in the same day 
92. Looking up and seeing the architecture   
93. Sipping wine and eating tapas in the Plaza Mayor
94. Being able to speak English with my friends and nobody around us can understand what we're saying
95. Parque de Jesuitas 
96. My host family
97. Calle Torro 
98. The view on my walk home, right before I turn down my street
99. This sense of adventure everyone seems to have
100. Moments like this with friends I'll never forget:

Photo courtesy of Sergius Colin

IT HAS FINALLY HAPPENED!!!

I woke up on Saturday morning from a weird dream I was having. I was talking to my dad, who was picking me up at the airport. In the dream, I was seriously confused, and slightly frustrated, because all I wanted was to be able to express myself to him, having not seen him for so long.  I understood what he was saying, but it wasn't normal.  I heard what he was saying, it made sense, but something wasn't right..

As I woke up and rolled over, a smily grew across my face as I slowly realized something: I had been dreaming in Spanish.  My dad was speaking to me, in my dream, IN SPANISH!

If it happens that one time, that's okay, because I never thought it would happen.  So after Saturday I can finally say: I have dreamed in a foreign language.

And that makes me happy.

Why the world *never ceases to amaze me

In February I wrote a blog post about poetry I was reading to help me learn Spanish.  About a week after I posted the poem, I received an email from a man named Chema.  Translated into English, he wrote:

Hi, I'm Chema Negron. I was pleasantly surprised that you published a poem written by my uncle, Angel Negron Colomer.   I think he would have liked very much be on the Internet (I guess like any poet). He was a very educated man, a chemist, a political scientist ... but above all, POET. Interestingly you have posted his poem on the day the first year anniversary of his death, which was the January 29, 2011.  Coincidence?  In any case, THANK YOU Kelsey!

This blew my mind.  I mean, how cool is that? And random, because I had no idea. I want to say THANK YOU, to Chema, for letting me know!

Unfortunately, when classes started up again and my schedule got busy in February, I stopped reading as much as I had been.  Then, this past weekend, on an afternoon it FINALLY stopped raining, my friends and I went to the park.  As we watched the world pass us by, we read a bit of Spanish poetry together and learned some new words, and Mark (sorry if you hate me for posting this!) wrote a few lines about Salamanca. It was day that was "super guay," if you ask me.  Days like this, completely average and unexpected, those will be the best memories.  

Photo taken by Miss Somer Stapleton

Stating the obvious, perhaps

This past month I discovered a tool that has "changed my life" here in Spain: Google voice.   If you don't have it, get it.  It is an app through google that allows me to call American phone numbers (cell phones, home phones, business phones)  from a computer, FOR FREE.

I mean, it's insanity. My European cell phone charges me a 50 cent connection fee, then its 30 cents a minute. And unlike skype where you have to arrange a time to call somebody and make sure you look decent enough since it's face-to-face communication, with google voice you're given the anonymity of being just a voice from the other end.  In trying to figure out my apartment lease for next year (UGH!!!), it has actually been quite helpful.  

But sometimes I wish, selfishly, that I could be living here 10, 15, or 30 years ago...or in a time where communication was less developed and the only way of talking to friends and family was by "snail mail." Hand written letters and postcards are the best, but let's be honest: they take time to write and to send.  How weird would it be to go home after having been abroad and see my family and talk to them after having been away for 9 months?!

I guess what I am trying to say is: with tools like Google voice, my world gets smaller and more connected. So that when I need to deal with my lease crisis for my apartment, I can call my mom or best friend at my convenience, and that's awesome.


PS Happy Spanish Labor Day! aka, another day of no school for me! I love this country.

¡Fútbol!

What better way to spend a Sunday afternoon in Salamanca than to go and see a local futbol* match!  Life in Salamanca can get dull at times, especially this past week since it has been raining non stop.  But today the skies finally cleared! So with free tickets from ISA, it was a no brainer; Sunday was the day of futbol!

My friend Lily** and I met up at 4:30 to catch the mysterious bus to the stadium. I say mysterious because neither of us really had any idea where it came from or what it looked like.  Confused and a bit tired (tired because I made it to sunrise this morning, in time to see the sky change into shades of deep purple and red!), we followed a group of futbol fans towards a blue coach bus and asked them if they were going to the game. "Si," they replied, and as we climbed into the bus and sat down, a few of them gave us quizzical looks.  As we sat down, pleased we had figured it out, a woman turned around and asked us (in Spanish) what we were doing; "are you Burgos* fans?" She asked us.  "Well, no..." we replied. And then that's the moment we realized we were on a private bus for Burgos fans.

But...the more the merrier, right? They took us in, taught us the Burgos chant, leant us a scarf to wear, and even gave us new tickets so that we could sit in their section.  And once they game had started, they even fed us cookies!  Wowzers. Two Americans and a group of friendly Burgos futbol fans; what an afternoon!  The bus drove us about 10 minutes out of the city to the ends-of-the-earth-Salamanca, where an old concrete stadium stood in the middle of a grass field, surrounded by dusty parking lots alongside the highway.

It was a close game, tied up 1-1 after the half.  Unfortunately, Burgos lost, but played hard.  Cold and tired, Lily and I said our goodbyes of "encantada" and two kisses on the cheeks, and we were on our way back to Salamanca.  What a random day, and special memory that day will be!

Lily & I

Our new friends from Burgos!

*For those of you Americans out there, futbol=soccer ;)
**Check out her awesome blog at: http://lilyinspain.wordpress.com/
***Burgos is a small city north of Salamanca

Dogs & Babies: Confessions Part II

Ah, the sounds from the bedroom of my 2nd floor apartment building: barking dogs, crying babies, hammers from the construction workers below, and Spanish parents fighting.    These are the sounds I do not think I will not miss.  Snippets of Spanish conversation between friends, thumping reggaeton music, bells ringing every hour:  the sounds I hear when walking around Salamanca.  These, I will miss.

Which leads me to: CONFESSIONS PART II.

I am a teeny bit excited to go home and be able to walk around and.....hear English.  I love my language.  I love that English is my first language. I love it, I love it, I love it!!!

Let my explain myself: I recently wrote that I'm trying to figure out why I came here, what I was seeking...and whether of not I have found it or not.  Looking back and reflecting on it, my primary goal of moving to Salamanca was to LEARN SPANISH. That is clear.  They say that the purest form of Spanish is spoken in this part of Spain. I chose Salamanca for that reason, among others.  I came here wanting to dream in Spanish. I wanted to fall in love with a Spanish man, and never returen. I wanted to come here and completely reinvent myself, making a life for myself that was unlike any life I had ever lived.

I tried. I really, really tried.  I had dozens of intercambios. I dated Spanish men (or tried to, at least).  I changed my style and cut my hair, trying to blend in. I read Spanish books and listened to Spanish music.  At the end of the day, or I guess, at the end of 8 months, I understand a whole lot more about Spanish culture than I did before.  But I have also fallen in love with my own culture and my own language.

I love how easily I can express myself. I can write using rhetoric that is eloquent, or simple.   From learning Spanish, it has made me more carefully think when I talk and write in English. I love that when I speak English, I do not have to think about it, it just comes out. But more importantly: I can easily communicate with a majority of the people I meet, because most people (educated people) know English.  I am part of a culture and a language that so many people can relate to and understand.  Maybe from reading this you have figured out: I am a planner, for better of for worse, always thinking about what is next to come.  One of the lists I've started writing is titled: "What I Want To Do When I Graduate."  

At the top of that list right now is to teach English as a second language...in China.  

Because I want to share this language with as many people as I can.  I love English, and I would love to share that passion with others.  As cheesy as it sounds, knowing English opens doors.  I can see that.  I have realized, from talking to people, asking them "why do you want to learn English?" that some of the best movies, most interesting books, widest variety of music----it's all in English.  

And here's another confession: I secretly wish I had a mother tongue, a "secret language," so to say.  I have always secretly wished that my parents were foreign and raised my speaking a language like Hungarian, Swedish, Norwegian, or German. A language linking me to my roots.  

But my roots are American, man.  There's no escaping that.  And from this year, I have realized that is nothing to be ashamed of. Of course, living in Spain I have wanted to "fit in," whatever that means. And at the (almost) end of it all I have come to the conclusion:  you should never be ashamed of where you are from.  Embrace it. Learn from it. Love it. 

The 802, my home!

Choices

23 days to go, folks. It's hard to believe.  Looking back at old posts about my initial reactions of Salamanca...I just laugh.  Here's one line that sticks out, from early October:

• "I read a great quote today: "What we seek, we shall find." I'm excited to figure out what my time in Spain brings me."

So what exactly has my time Spain brought me?  Well, I have learned the language, más o menos. I've learned to be alone. I've traveled to foreign lands, met so many people, tried new foods, and taken thousands of photographs...but really, what have I found and what have I learned?

This I realized last night: learning to dance the Salsa alongside a German girl, a couple Spaniards, in front of our fit teacher from the Dominican Republic, hips thrusting and arms waving to the sexy Latin music, I felt pretty uncomfortable.  An awkward American in bright pink pants and winter boots, trying to move my body to the beat while not tripping over my own feet..."what am I doing?" I thought to myself.  And trying to appear confident and un-awkward at the same time, I realized something: 

We have CHOICES.

As I kept on dancing and the class went on, I felt better and better, feeling the beat of the music as I learned the simple steps of the salsa.  I chose to go to a Salsa class last night, on a whim, because I have been frustrated this past week with how my life here is unfolding.  I am frustrated because I feel as though my Spanish is regressing. It's has been too easy to fall into a routine where I avoid speaking the language, surround myself with English speakers, listen to English music (I mean as I write this, I'm listening to the Beatles), and read only English books and watch English films.

I am choosing to do that. Well, I want to change.  My days are numbered; I have 23 days left. So for the next 23 days my challenge to myself: Embrace Spain.  What will that look like???

1. Get off facebook.  For goodness sake, this website sucks the life out of us. I can go on facebook any old time. How often can I be in Spain?!
2. Go out to places I have never been before. Like, maybe I should check out that place where they show indie Spanish films instead of go to my favorite bar, because I am SURE I'll learn something new.
3. Speak Spanish to whomever I can...because I will miss that when I get back home, I am sure.
4. Take out my headphones and listen to the language on the street when I'm walking to class.

When I get on the bus May 18th I want to say, "Man, I'm exhausted. I have done so much. I'm tired, and I am ready to go home!" None of this emotional, regretful, tearful goodbye stuff.  I want to look back and say, "Wow, I really tried my hardest to be part of the culture. I love Salamanca, but I am ready to move on!"  


And that might be the best choice I will make this month.  I am still not quite sure what I was "seeking" when I chose to come to Salamanca, and I am trying to figure out what I have "found."   With a few short weeks to go, maybe I can start to answer that question.

Life lessons

My modified list of "life lessons" I've realized through traveling and meeting people and living abroad...dorky? Yes, of course. Sitting in Budapest waiting for my plane to take off, I started thinking about how I have changed this year and why, and this is what I came up with:

• People love talking about themselves. Just ask.
• When making travel plans: Check, then double check. Always.
• Good times, bad times, the best times, the worst times: It will all pass.
• Time is valuable & precious...so spend it wisely. 
• Everything sounds better with a British accent.
• Take care of yourself.
• Sleep when you're tired
• Eat when you're hungry.
• Cry when you're sad
• Laugh when you're happy.
• Life is simple. Keep it simple.
• Because sometimes, all you really need is a cup of coffee, or a piece of chocolate. Or a hug. Things will be okay.
• The world is a beautiful place. Just look around.
• Wear clothes that fit you. And that are comfortable!  
• KARMA IS REAL.
• The best relationship you can have is with yourself.  So get to know yourself.
• It is okay to be alone.
• Give people a chance, because first impressions aren't always accurate.
• Hindsight is, generally, pointless. But, learn from your mistakes.
• People will judge you no matter what. All that matters is how you judge yourself.
• Hard work pays off.
• Money isn't everything...but it helps. Spend it wisely. 
• Almost everywhere is more likable in the summertime
• "Time you enjoyed wasted was not spent wasted."
• Attitude is everything.
• If you have the desire, you can accomplish anything.

Lunes de Agua

A.K.A., the day when the prostitutes are allowed to come back into Salamanca by crossing the river the Monday after Easter.  Because obviously that sort of business was not allowed during the Lenten season back in the day.

Traditionally, a food called "Hornazo" is eaten in celebration of the strange holiday (which is only celebrated in Salamanca).  Basically, hornazo a meat pie, with thick crust surrounding layers of ham, pork, and cheese.  Sounds weird...but it's delicious!  My host mom baked it, and gave me one when I went to the river Monday afternoon.  As I walked down I noticed all the shops were closed and everybody, I mean everybody was down at the river.  It was sunny, warm; one of the greatest afternoons I have had in Salamanca!

Surrounded by students enjoying the first warm, sunny day in a while, it is a day in Salamanca I will not forget!

People by the Puente Romano 

So many people!

Me, with friends

...so much garbage :(

Stockholm, Sweden

Invited by my friend Johanna to visit Sweden whenever I had the chance, I took her up on the offer, bought a 30 euro Ryanair ticket and headed back up to Scandinavia for a weekend in my FINAL COUNTRY!

Lagom: what a cliche, I thought as I listened to the BBC podcast about modern day Sweden. It is a Swedish word meaning not too much, not too little.  I discovered this word thanks to my friend Johanna, who suggested I listen this podcast before arriving.  I took it with a grain of salt, understanding what the writer was trying to get across, that Swedes are fairly level headed people.

I discussed this word with Johanna one afternoon.  Arguably, she said, it can be a bad thing. I responded, pointing out, "But look, Sweden has been at peace for the past 200 years!"

"Yes," she answered, "but we were chickens!"

"How?" I asked.

"Well,  during WWII and WWI, while we were "neutral," but everybody knows that we were pushovers."  She went on, explaining how the Germans used the railways to attack Norway, and Swedes did nothing to stop them.  "We were lame," she sighed. 

But no! The Swedish people I met encomapassed this term, lagom: friendly, funny, interesting yet not too loud or too over-the top, I immediately felt welcomed into the group.  Well, despite the language barrier.  Like in Munich, though, I enjoyed hearing the strange, song-like language.  With two extra vowels in the Swedish alphabet, it is no wonder that it sounds more musical than a language like German or Dutch.

The best evening was a get together at somebody's house, where we all just hung out and chatted.  Conversations of American high school versus the Swedish school system fascinated me, having had just been in Germany.  Similar to Germany, here students study for three years, called "gymnasuim," an optional route if one wants to go on to university. It is comparable to the American high school. However unlike in Germany, where students are told whether or not they are eligible, it is rare for a Swedish student to not attend university. Because Swedish universities are essentially free, students take advantage of this.  And why not! Tax rates are something like 50-60%!

"Geeze," I said, "I just cannot believe that I am here! I'm in SWEDEN!" I said a few times. They just laughed, and said yea, sorry about the bad weather. We got to talking and i confessed I was incredibly nervous to be leaving in about a month. I talked about the anxiety of leaving Europe and going back to Ameica, back to my life, back to reality. "Just dont be nervous; enjoy it while it lasts," they all told me. I went on to tell them my hopes and dreams after I graduate, overwhelmed at the prospect of having to decide what exactly I want to do.  One girl simply said "Just do them all. There is no point in worrying because it'll end no matter what...so may as well NOT worry!"Wow, I thought.  Obvious, but right on.

GAP YEAR: TAKE ONE!  How badly I wish I had been given this advice when I was 18.  For one to go straight onto "uni" is rare in Sweden...and in most of Europe.  Students here are tired of studying, understandably, and want time to figure out exactly what they want to study. After graduation, it is common to find a job, work, save money, then go and travel.  Backpack through Asia; study Spanish in Spain; travel around South America; these are what students do to put their lives into perspective.  I have absolutely no regrets, I have had a GREAT 3 years in college so far.

But man, the Europeans are onto something!


This, for me, is what study abroad is really about.  Asking questions, having debates, engaging in conversation and writing about it; this is what I love doing.


Sunday, Johanna and I met up with my friend Erin, who is studying in Uppsala, a small city north of Stockholm.  Together, we went to the photography museum, Fotografiska.  Very inspirational! I was sad to leave the sunny city of Stockholm, but alas, I hopped on a bus, went back to the airport and took off for Madrid, a 3 hour flight away.

12 hours later, I finally made it home. After spending the night in Barajas (you would be surprised the masses of people sleeping alongside the Ryanair and Easyjet gates!) and taking a 9am train to Salamanca, exhausted from traveling, I still had to go to class the next day. URgh! And of course, of COURSE, Lunes de Agua was Monday: the traditional release of the prostitutes back into the city! Oh man. Salamanca, ya keep me young.

Here are some photographs of what I saw during my weekend in Stockholm:

Clouds over the city 

Swedish meatballs & potatoes for dinner. Traditional food; yummy!

Snow!!! In the old part of the city

Me, standing in the skinniest street in the city 

Stockholm skyline from our boat ride. Did you know about 14 islands make up this Swedish capital?! 

My friend Johanna in front of her home

Sweet dreams @ Barajas International Airport

Thoughts on RYANAIR: my last flight

I will not miss waiting in a 30 minute long line in the Madrid airport to get a small stamp and pen mark on my boarding pass (which I printed at home or else pay 40 euros to pick up your ticket at the airport!) only because I do not carry an EU passport, then hurrying to go through the security line and then rushing to my gate...only to realize that, naturally, everybody is just waiting in line and they gates have not yet opened so “chill out, Kelsey,” because you still have another 20 minutes of waiting in line.

I will not miss trying to shove my backpack into the blue metal cage that serves as a size measurement for hand-luggage, hot and sweaty because I am wearing a warm sweater, scarf, jacket, and two pairs of pants so avoid packing them, and in anticipation of the cold weather I am about to experience. Frustrated because I only just finished repacking my backpack for the security line fifteen minutes earlier, I pull out another sweatshirt and put it on because I see that on this flight they are actually checking bag sizes this flight. I always cross my fingers that a laid-back attendant will be at the gate check, letting us all go through without hassle. Because let’s be honest; if you weighed my bag it would be overweight, and it probably wouldn’t effortlessly fit into the bin. And yet: I can still easily manage to fit it into the overhead bin because as soon as I am past the gate check I pull my purse and computer out of my bag to use it during the flight. I have had to pay the 40 euro bag check fee once, coming home from the Canary Islands (ironic, I know, because you would think that on an island vacation I would have the least amount of clothing), and let me tell you: I was fuming having to pay up.

I will not miss the bright yellow, plastic safety instructions that are on the backs of every seat, or the yellow and blue color scheme of the uniforms each stewardess wears. Yellow is just so...cheap looking. And not very appealing. Why couldn’t they chose a color like beige, or tan, or a light red? Well, at least it’s not as bad as the bright orange color scheme that easyjet uses.

I will not miss the voice on the intercom of the overly excited Irish woman welcoming you on board, reminding you kindly that drinks and refreshments are available, for only a few euros! And of course, please hurry up and put your things in the overhead bin and find your seats. The worst, though, is landing; whenever a flight arrives on time, a cheesy tune of horns blasting rings out, and the Irish voice announces: "You arrived in yet another on time flight! Last year, Ryanair was the most on time a “Welcome! You have arrived on yet another on time flight. Last year over 90% of Ryanair flights landed on time, beating every other European airline.”  Everyone on board just rolls their eyes and says “yea, right.”

I will not miss the feeling of confusion when landing in a new country, looking out the window at the landscape below and wondering to myself, “I thought Paris/Stockholm/Munich was a big city? Where is the city?” and then realizing that, in fact, Munich-West is really the city of Memminham, about 2 hours away from Munich, and Stockholm-Skasva is really an hour and a half bus ride from the city, much closer to the small down of Nyping. “Here ya go, here, take my money! Just take it! I don’t even need it!” is what I feel like crying out sometimes as I fork over another 20 euros to the bus company to take me into the city. Becuase of course there are no cheap trains or metros or bus systems far out in the countryside.

AND YET:  I will miss the wide availability of flights, the affordability, the adventure of traveling. Of course there are always other more accommodating airlines to fly, but really, only ryanair has flights going all across Europe and caters to poor, young travelers, like myself. I will not miss you, Ryanair, but without you where would I be? I will leave you with this; we have had our ups and downs this year, but at the end of it all, I came out alive, a better traveler because of it.  Without a doubt, you were the worst and best airlines I have ever flown with!

the countdown begins!

Okay, I hate that I am already thinking about the end. I wish I wasn't so forward thinking....but reality is, I have one month exactly until I say "Adios España!"

That. Is. Unbelievable.

When I leave Spain on May 18th, I want to get on the plane and say to myself, "ah, finally, I am going home!" I want to be so exhausted from living my Spanish life to the fullest that I am excited to be headed home.

I know myself all too well: I hate transitions. I just do not like them.  This time, though, I'll be ready.

Because back in December, when all my friends left Salamanca after the fall semester, there were tears and dramatic goodbyes, and leaving everyone was like ripping off a bandaid; nobody was prepared and nobody wanted to leave just yet.  It was not a fun experience.

Instead, when I leave in a month, I want to look back and say, "Man, I'm ready to go home. I love Salamanca, but I'm ready for what's next."  Saying goodbye to my friends will be sad...that will be the worst part.  Instead of goodbye, though, it'll be a "see ya later," because I know this isn't the end of my travels.

So, this last month, I'm going to try my best to "live it up."  That sounds so cliche.  But it's true; Salamanca, you and I still have a month to go, so get ready for the best month yet!

München, Deutschland (Munich, Germany)

Ah, Germany. I knew I couldn’t leave Europe without seeing this infamous country.  Having had learned about it in university as one of the more structurally organized and economically strong countries of Europe, and after making friends throughout the years who have close ties to Germany, I knew I would regret it if I did not go. Despite doubts that I wouldn’t be able to afford it, I managed to find a fairly cheap flight from Budapest, so I promised myself I wouldn’t spend much money and just went for it.  While I would have loved to have visited Berlin, I chose Munich because I have a friend who grew up nearby and who currently studies there.  We met last winter, in Quito, and traveled together, and got along quite well. When I left Ecuador, she told me I was always invited to come and visit her...so, I decided to take her up on the offer!

My flight landed in “Munich-West” (aka Memmingham; see my post on “Ryanair”) around 4pm.  I pulled out my phone and called Marike, 

“Hey,” I said, “I’m here! I just landed in Germany! But don’t worry, I’m on a bus about 2 hours away, so no need to rush to the station.”

She responded, confused, “What? You’re in Germany?” 

“Well, yea.” I replied. 

“But I thought you were coming next week!”

Oh. No. No, no, no! My face turned bright red, and I realized immediately the mistake I had made. When booking my flights, I thought that my spring break was the following week, which I soon realized then fixed. But I guess I had forgotten to mention that teeny detail to Marike.

“Oh, gosh! I am so, so sorry!” I said.

“Well,” she said, “I am with my mom today, for her birthday, and I won’t be in Munich tonight.”

There was a pause, and I bit my nails, trying to figure out what to do, feeling horrible, mad at myself for possibly runing my Germany trip.

“But it’s not my fault, right?” She asked me, with her German accent.

“No, no not at all.” I tried explaining to her that I am actually a complete idiot and she should not worry about it, I would be okay in a hostel for the night.  We talked, and I figured out a hostel to stay at close by the train station.

Turns out, that was the best thing I could have had. I spent the evening working on a homework assignment and sleeping, exhausted from Budapest and traveling so much (Bus-plane-taxis-walking-plane-bus riding: it can be exhausting!) I would have been a lousy guest, tired and pooped out.  Around 8pm, siting in the lounge of this really funky hostel, called Wombat Hostel (if you go to Munich, stay there!), I closed my computer, tired of doing homework and annoyed with the loud people sitting next to me.  “Man, you can hear that American accent from a mile away!” I said to the guy sitting on the chair across from me. He was reading a book, and with his gelled back hair and oxford shirt, I figured he was British.  Laughing, he said in an American accent “Yea, sure is annoying sometimes.” We got to talking, swapped study abroad stories, etc, etc.  Around 9pm I decided I was hungry and ventured outside to get some dinner, he went to bed, wanting to sleep before traveling the next day.  

It’s conversations like that, random happenstances, that make me love traveling so much. 

The next day I met Marike at the metro stop by her house.  I recognized her from across street, and man, was I excited to see a familiar face.   She took me back to her apartment and I was so amazed at the brightness and comfortability of her small, organized German apartment. Quite unlike the Spanish-style apartment I am living in!

Despite the rainy weather, we walked around and saw as much as we could.  She taught me a German expression parents say to their children, meaning that you must eat everything on your plate if you want sunshine the next day.  The point was, if we wanted to have good weather the next day, we had to make the most of the bad weather.  Well, we did; we spent 2 hours in the rain! By the end of the day, my feet were cold and wet, I was tired from walking, and I took a relaxing nap on her bed, my feet against the heater, while she made dinner.  After a delicious mushroom and tortilini dinner we met up with her friends, shared a couple beers and hit the town.  

We awoke the next morning to sun shining out the window.  Perfect weather for bike riding is what it was.  She led me around everywhere; we saw Olympic Park, where the 1972 Olypmics were held; we biked to the Royal Palace (there is no Germany royalty anymore); in the English Gardens, the largest urban park in the world, we watched the surfers ride the wave in the river, and we shared white German sausage and cheese next to the Chinese Tower.  We finished the grand tour with coffees at the cafe Marike works at, located on the 5^th floor of a tech school with beautiful views of Munich and the mountains. 

The view from Olympic Park

Bretzel!

The view of the palace....wayyy down there!

At the top of the hill at Olympic Park 

Urban river surfers in the English Garden, the largest urban park in the world

That evening, we made dinner with her roommate and her boyfriend. While they could all speak English, conversations all reverted back to German.  No pasa nada, though, because I love to hear other languages. It’s quite beautiful. And, what an opportunity to be in Germany, hanging out with Germany students, experiencing the daily life. I felt like a fly on the wall, just sitting and taking it all in...but that’s what I love. More relaxed after drinking a beer, I asked Marike’s roommate and her friends about their outlook on Germany versus the United States, on Germany compare to the rest of Europe, and their opinions about the EU and eurozone.  Those conversations make what I have learned about in class more real, more interesting.  These Germans, though admittedly claim to know very little about their economy, realize that Germany has the strongest economy in Europe right now, alongside France.  Studying to be teachers, they are hardworking, friendly, and organized people, who adhere to schedules and do not stay out partying like the Spanish.  Watching them prepare dinner was the most efficient process I have seen 20-something-yearolds do.  

But the most interesting conversation we had was about the educational system in Germany, and how it works.  I am still trying to wrap my mind around it!  Did you know that in Germany, at age 11-12, kids take a test that determine what middle/high school they can go to? And only students who go to the "A-level" schools can attend university. Basically, at age 12 it's decided if you will able to study at university! University which is essentially free, as long as grades are kept up.  It was fascinating hearing their opinions and viewpoints.  

Somehow or another, the evening ended with me trying on Marike’s traditional dress, and with her friend in his lederhosen (leather shorts), long socks, sweater, and shoes.  The Bavarian pride they all had rubbed off; how I would love to come back someday!

All evening I kept saying “I must learn German!” and at that point, my life goal was to move to Berlin and work at a hostel (somewhere like the Wombat hostel) and learn to speak this strange, tough language, German. Sad to say goodbye, I am sure Marike and I will meet again.  Now it was off to the next country, another adventure: SWEDEN.