¡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.

A Day in Budapest

Budapest wasn't really a top destination when I arrived in Europe last September. Yet,  I decided to go for a couple reasons: 1) my friend Matt had studied abroad here two years ago, and was always talking about how much he had loved living there. 2) It was  city unlike anywhere else I had ever seen. 3) Flights were cheap!  However....Thanks to poor planning on my part, and a limited selection on the Ryanair website, I spent a mere 24 hours in Budapest to kick off my spring break.  But it was AWESOME, and I cannot wait to go back someday.

The best part of the trip, however, was the plane ride.  Let me explain. On ryanair flights, seats are first-come, first-serve, and nobody is assigned a seat.  About half an hour before the gate opens, everybody lines up and waits.  The goal is to get a seat near the front and a seat close to where you store your bag, making it easier to get off the plane at the next city.  Ok, maybe this has nothing to do with my story.  Let me get back to the point.   I made my way to a window seat, close to the back of the plane.  Oh, well.  Next to me was a friendly Mexican guy, about 30 years old, working in Slovakia.  We discussed the differences between Spain and Mexico, I practiced my Spanish for a while, and we just chatted for a bit.  Tired, I tried sleeping (in anticipation of my busy day to come), but it was impossible. I was too excited to be seeing a new country! Eventually, we engaged in conversation with the man on a aisle, a 32 year old guy from Budapest.  Somehow or another, we started talking about religion.

An American, a Mexican, and a Hungarian are sitting on a plane; it sounds like the start of a bad joke.  But it was quite fascinating, really.  The Mexican, a devout Catholic, whose mother goes to church everyday and grew up in a traditional Catholic-Mexican family, carried with him various keychains representing his faith.  The Hungarian believed life is what we make of it, and did not believe that karma, or God, or spirits had any control over human life.  And then there was me, asking all the questions and throwing in my opinions here or there.  I like to think that I have a very open-minded view about the world; I believe in karma, I believe in a higher being, and I think that organized religion can be a wonderful mechanism if used correctly. When we landed, we said our goodbyes and I politely declined the offer for a ride to my hostel.

Landing around midnight, I was a bit nervous to be in a country where I didn't speak the language, have any friends, or even have any of the currency.  Things worked out, they always do, and I took a taxi to my hostel (a whopping 20 euros! Yikes!), fell asleep by 2am, and woke up at 6am to see as much as I could!  I was greeted by a very friendly Dutchman who encouraged me to check out a few museums, etc, etc, and couldn't believe that I only had the day in Budapest! I know, I told him, I want more time, but this is all I have!!

Liberty Bridge, around 7am

Crossing the Chain Bridge of Budapest

The "Buda" side of the city

St. Stephen's Basilica

Inside St. Stephen's

The Great Market Hall; Központi Vásárcsarnok

With Matt's detailed notes in hand of where to go and what to see, I used my free airport map to loop around the city, go over the bridge to be "Buda" side (there's two sides of the city, "Buda" and "Pest"), taking in the architecture and enjoying the freedom and independence of traveling alone.  My final stop was the market, which I figured I could squeeze in before taking off for the airport.  My incentive?  Matt had described this yogurt lady that he always got delicious yogurt from, who sold fresh, local food. Having not eaten delicious yogurt in a long time, I was set on finding her.  I looked and looked and looked, but couldn't find her!    Frustrated, I gave up and settled for fresh orange juice, then headed back out to try to catch a train to the airport.  I reached my hand into my bag to get out my trusty map, but of course, I had dropped it.  Dang, I though,  I probably shouldn't haven even stopped at the market, and now I don't even know where I am supposed to go!  With only 45 minutes to go before I had to be at my gate, I couldn't find the train station to take me to the airport.  I somehow made my way on a bus with the help of a Hungarian girl, then found a subway, then a train, to get to the airport.  The seconds were ticking, and I was kicking myself for having tried to do so much in so little time.   20 minutes before the gates closed, I ran into the airport, waited in the stupid ryanair line (they insist on stamping your ticket if you do not have an EU passport), then finally got to security.  Literally, there were only 5 people in line ahead of me.  No big deal, I figured, this'll go by quick.  Of course, Budapest ended up being the MOST strict airport security I have EVER experienced, and they made me go back through 2 times before letting me free.  Flustered, I hurried to my gate and whew!; I made it with 4 minutes to spare!  Lesson learned; always give yourself more time then you need.

People have asked me if it's lonely to travel alone, if it's scary or overwhelming or even boring.  Yes; all of this is true. It can be boring to be alone in an airport with nobody to talk to.  It can be scary when you don't know where to go and cannot figure out how to follow the map.  And it can be quite overwhelming trying to even PLAN what to do, when there are so many options. But the feeling of being in a completely foreign city, alone, with just a backpack and camera, no set plans or agenda to follow: this is one of the most liberating feelings I have felt.  Meeting new people is terribly exciting for me.  And having that alone time to just sit and think, to watch people and not feel obligated to entertain anybody: absolutely freeing. Aside from skiing, being up to your knees in powder with the sun shining; traveling and seeing new places is my absolute favorite!

As I am writing this, I'm in Stockholm for the weekend visiting a friend. It snowed today, so I am very happy! So anyhoo, there's probably a few grammatical mistakes (sorry Mom) and I have more pictures/better pictures. But for now, I wanted to get it all written down before I forget all the reasons why Budapest was awesome!

Happy Easter!

Well, that was quite an untraditional Easter I celebrated this weekend.  While most of my peers took off to travel this week since we are on spring break until next Sunday, I decided to stay in Spain for the weekend to check out "Semana Santa" (Holy Week), and see what Easter would be like here.  From Monday through Sunday, there were at least 2 parades scheduled every day, and I didn't want to miss a thing.  The first parade I caught was unplanned; out with my friends Saturday night (?), we were standing outside a bar chatting when we saw a slow moving hoard of people dressed in white robes with red sashes silently make their way through the late night streets of Salamanca. It must have been around 3 in the morning, so needless to say, us foreigners were quite surprised and taken aback.  At the end of the line, a life-sized statue of Jesus atop a candle-lit bed was carried by at least 40 of these strange looking people.  We all thought to ourselves, or at least I did, surly this would never happen in America!

"Capirote" is the name of the pointy hats traditionally worn during Easter. Easily mistaken for "KKK" members, there is in fact no connection between this religions tradition and the American group.  The strange, pointy looking hats worn during Easter are actually very creepy looking, as the whole face is hidden except for the eyes.

A photo taken by my roommate Lindsey during the late-night procession

Ironically, most of the parades later in the week were cancelled due to bad weather.  My host mom explained to me that during Easter week, this usually happens.  Well, determined to experience the culture of Easter here, I went out in the rain on Friday evening to see the "best" Easter parade.  Scheduled to start at midnight, I stood outside in the rain, camera in hand, outside the cathedral for 45 minutes waiting with the crowd, dripping wet from the steady rain.  Well, 1 am rolled around, and still nothing.  And yet people still waited.  As soon as the rain let up, the parade would start, so people stayed.  Wet, cold, and sick of standing around with puddles in my shoes, I left after an hour, disappointed I didn't see any parade.

Crowds of umbrella line the streets of Salamanca, patiently waiting

Trying to get inside the Cathedral to see the decorations within

The Plaza Mayor, decorated all week with Eater banners

Surprisingly, my host parents did not go to any parades.  They did not even to go church on Easter Sunday.  No special meals were cooked, and life went on like always.  I try not to be judgmental, because I have learned that is one of the worst mistakes you can make in life, especially when traveling.  It's just that I find it quite ironic! I mean, the only decorations in their house are Jesus-realted!  So, this is something I will never fully understand.

Easter Sunday was quite anticlimactic, I am sad to say.  And yet...it was one of my favorite days in Salamanca so far.  For brunch (well, really lunch), I made pancakes and French Toast for my friends who live in an apartment complex near my apartment.  Of course, I had to share with them my Vermont maple syrup! Which, of course, is the best food in the whole wide world.  As it was the first sunny day in about a week, we spent the rest of the day at a park, playing catch on the grass and enjoying the sunshine and company of friends.  Maybe I didn't go to a traditional church service, see a fancy parade, or eat a huge delicious out meal as I would have in America, but  I was with my friends and we enjoyed the day and each others company, and really, that is all that I could have asked for.   It was one of those days that I never wanted to end; it was simple, unplanned....one of those memories that surly will make me nostalgic for this city someday soon.  

But that is in the future! And I do not want to dwell any longer. Right now, I'm in the bus station waiting to catch a bus to Madrid, and then tonight I am off to Budapest! Another adventure awaits!

Travel Essentials

Packing for my spring break trip next week, I realized I've got this whole "living out of a backpack" thing down to a science.  My first "Euro trip" was to Portugal with ISA; my bag was packed with way too many clothes, and of course, I brought a huge purse.  Mistake! I was weighed down the whole weekend with too much STUFF.  Since then, I have learned.  LESS IS MORE!  


What I always travel with:

• TOOTHBRUSH + TOOTHPASTE: you would be surprised how easy this is to forget, and how much of a hassle it can be to buy a new one. Without a toothbrush, your day can be absolutely miserable! 
• Quick dry towel: you mean you want to charge me 5 euros to rent a ratty, worn towel? No thank you! I would rather spend my money on food, postcards, etc! Mine cost about $20 back in the states. Worth it.
• Silk sleeping bag: Common complaints when traveling: “you mean it’s another 5 euros to rent sheets?” Or, “are these seriously the linens I am supposed to sleep on tonight?” Save yourself the drama and bring your own sheets. You would be surprised at much more “at home” you can feel when you are in your own sheets. Mine rolls up and is no bigger than a pair of socks. Definitely worth the $30 I spent on in back in the states.
• Chapstick: nothing is more annoying than having to spend your money on another lip balm when you know you have, like, 5 more back at home somewhere. Plus I always get chappped lips when I'm flying in airplanes. It's weird, I know.
• A small journal: for when I am bored, inspired, lost and need to write down directions, and it’s fun to look back and read. You can take as many pictures as you want, but it's not the same as the written word.  Even if you're tired and really want to go to bed, be sure to scribble down a few words about what you saw that day.
• Clean socks and underwear: I have gone 3 days wearing the exact same pants, shirt and sweater. Because who wants to pay the 50 euro fee to check your bag? NOT ME! (I’ve learned that the hard way…). But you should never forfeit clean socks and underwear or you will feel gross! 
• A small sewing kit: because how annoying is it to have a missing button, ripped leggings? Plus it’s so small, it hardly takes up any space. If you don't know how to sew, learn. It's quite easy.
• I ALWAYS forget this, and always kick myself for forgetting: FLIP FLOPS. Most hostel floors are pretty grimy. Especially the same-gender communal showers. Save yourself the worry and bring a pair of plastic shower shoes for peace of mind. 
• Your passport. Seems like a no-brainer. Do you know how horrible it is to make it all the way to the Madrid-airport only to realize that special little document is still sitting at home on your desk? And guess what, the airline company is not going to make any exceptions. So my poor friend Adam missed his flight to Dublin last October and spent the weekend kicking himself.
• My ipod:  I am a child of a generation dependent on technology and the internet. BI hate that sometimes.  ut it has seriously helped me figure out directions, find forgotten phone numbers; it's a place I can write down addresses and names, I can play games, listen to music. It's great.  And much lighter than my laptop!  
• Earplugs and an eyemask: Because I guarantee there will be a crying baby on your flight when all you want to do is sleep; there will be somebody that snores loudly in your hostel; most likely "that guy" will turn on the lights at 2am because he can't find his toothbrush and when he forgets to turn off the lights, you will want to strangle him.  Take care of yourself. Who cares if you look like a diva, you are well rested!
• A sense of ADVENTURE: be willing to get lost, laugh at yourself, and meet new people. The best memories I have from traveling were unplanned and unpredictable. Be smart, but don’t stay locked up in the hotel all weekend on facebook! That's lame.

What I avoid traveling with:

• My computer. Because it is HEAVY and takes up space, plus I hate leaving it in the hostel when I'm out exploring.   But let's be honset: about 50% of the time I take it with me for connivence sake.  
• More than one sweater/jacket. They take up way too much space!
• Excess shoes. Because like sweaters, they take up too much space!
• Boring people. Debbie Downers. Negative Nancy's. People that WHINE.  Just leave 'em back home or at the hostel and go off and enjoy! Do not let somebody ruin your potentially once-in-a-lifetime weekend!

If you think you need more than what can fit into a backpack, you might want to reconsider how you live your life!

Me and my trusty backpack in Italy for the weekend

It is a "hedonistic debauched lifestyle"

I love interviewing people and asking them questions. I'm a pretty good listener, if you ask me.  If I could go back and do it again, I might have chosen to be a journalist, a writer, a filmmaker. But it's never too late, right?  Well, a few nights ago I brought out a small hand-held camera and went around asking people what their favorite part about Salamanca was, why they chose to study here, and how they would describe their experience so far.

My favorite response, and I think most honest response, was from my friend Rob, who teaches English classes at a local school.  He said we are living a "hedonistic debauched lifestyle." I had to look up what these words meant, and here is what I found (according to the dictionary on my Mac).

• Hedonistic (adj): the pursuit of pleasure; sensual self-indulgence.
• The ethical theory that pleasure (in the sense of the satisfaction of desires) is the highest good and proper aim of human life.
• Similar words: indulgent, pleasure-seeking, sybaritic, lotus-eating,epicurean, good-time; unrestrained, intemperate,immoderate, extravagant, decadent.
• Debauched (adj): indulging in or characterized by sensual pleasure to a degree percieved to be morally harmful; dissolute: a debauched lifestyle. 
• Similar words: dissolute,dissipated, degenerate, corrupt, depraved, sinful, unprincipled, immoral; lascivious, lecherous, lewd, lustful, libidinous, licentious, promiscuous, loose,wanton, abandoned; decadent, profligate,intemperate, sybaritic. ANTONYMS wholesome.

That we are living morally harmful lives of self-indulgence is a bit extreme.  But in a way, it's right on.  This year abroad is for me to learn Spanish; it is a year to travel and see Europe; it is a year to figure out what I want to do after I graduate from DU in a year.  That is hedonistic, if you ask me.  Completely selfish and self-fulfilling, I have stopped feeling "guilty" about not living a productive, hard-working lifestyle as I did back in Denver because I realize that --THIS IS TEMPORARY-- and soon enough this year will be like a dream, a memory, behind me.  And I am hard working in other ways, to be fair.  But I will leave here on May 18 and end this chapter in my life, and I will not have any regrets.  

That our experiences and our lives here are defined as "debauched" has a negative, critical connotation.  Sinful, corrupt, lewd: we are young, we are independent, we are free.  And man, we are living it up while we can.  We are all fighting to figure out who we are, what we want to be, where we want to go, how we want to live our one and precious life. So we make mistakes, we stay up too late, and do things we probably shouldn't do. We are self-destructive, but when we hit rock bottom that's when we figure out who we really are.  


So maybe it's a hedonistic debauched lifestyle, but I'm learning, I'm growing, I'm living, and I'm happy.

Paris with Lauren, November 2011

Who Am I?!

I am from Vermont.
I go to school in Denver.
I work in Michigan during the summer.
I am living in Spain.

Thanks to this, I have friends from Tokyo to Stockholm, Palestine to L.A., Alaska to Quito.  If you were to make a map connecting all the places where I have friends, and where they have friends, and where their friends have friends, I truly think we would all be connected.  

I read a statistic the other day that said there are more people on facebook than were alive 200 years ago.  How insane is that?!  We are truly a globalized world. 

With resources like facebook, Skype, gmail and tumblr, it is as though I never really say goodbye or leave any place behind.  For some reason, that really bothers me sometimes. Because I am never truly "here," it feels as though I am living in 4 or 5 places at once.  It's like this: I wake up, go to class, see my friends (who are from all over the states).  After lunch, I have an intercambio with my Spanish friends, Antonio and Carola.  Before dinner, I sign onto facebook, and chat with my friend Rachel, who is in Denver.  Bored, I go through tagged photos from my travels in South America, and get nostalgic, then chat with my friend Luca, who is studying in Canada, but is from Australia.  Before bed, I skype with an old high school friend whom I haven't seen in two years, but we talk regularly.  And tomorrow I will probably call my mom on gmail because we haven't spoken in a week or so.

So while, yes, I'm living in Spain, I'm also still living my "other lives" at the same time.  That is weird to me, thinking about it like that.  Life is simple, it is s-i-m-p-l-e, but it is so easy to feel overwhelmed as I look at all I've done and all I'm yet to accomplish.  I love technology, and as my Puerto Rican friend said last week, "internet is the greatest invention of all time."  Yet today I yearn for the simplicity, the challenge, of living abroad independent of all I have left behind.

Which is quite ironic, because here I am on google blogging about it.  *sigh*

I am trying to imagine a time when people abroad only communicated through hand-written letters, when photographs were developed and not "uploaded," when newspapers and radio were the main ways of communicating the news.  I am thankful for technology and (sadly enough) it is almost impossible to imagine my life without the internet.

So today, I spent 5 hours on my computer organizing and planning and writing and editing. I think now it is time to go outside (though it's raining!) and embrace the laid back Spanish lifestyle and do some people watching!

The saga continues...

Dinner tonight was just Felix (my host dad) and myself; quite relaxing with just the two of us.  As we enjoyed our fried fish and mixed-vegetable dinner, I asked him what his plans are for next week since Lindsey and I are both taking off for vacation.  "No sé, no sé..." he replied. I don't know, I don't know.  I nodded, and went back to eating.  I have all but given up speaking with him because despite having lived here for 6+ months, he still does not understand my Spanish.  I think he just doesn't have enough patience...I mean, I get it; he's had to put up with so many host students that it's any wonder he pretends to understand as I ramble on about my classes, homework assignments, and vacations.

It's quite frustrating, because I understand almost everything. This is not the point.

The point is, he went on to explain to me that while he would love to take a trip next week, he cannot.  "Dinero, siempre dinero," he said.  It's always the money.  There just isn't enough.  He's still unemployed, and not sure when he will find work again.  "I used to make walls," he said to me in Spanish, knocking his finger on the tile wall.  "I made walls, but nobody needs walls anymore."  He explained that housing crash, so many people lost their jobs.  I nodded along, understanding completely.  Having learned about the housing bubble in my economics class last semester, I memorized the data and and the theories, but experiencing it and seeing the crash is something much different.

Do I feel guilty? Yes, of course! How unfair is it that I come all the way here from the states, spending all my summer money on trips every month, and I go out for tapas at least once a week, and can splurge on the occasional shopping spree.  All MY money, granted.  Hard-earned money from a summer job I was lucky to have.  But I'm 21.  He's probably 42.  I don't think it is fair.  We read on the news about how Inaki Urdangarian, the son-in-law to the Spanish king, basically stole thousands of dollars from the government by avoiding taxes, and it is no wonder that Felix believes the man's hands should be cut off.  Whenever he says this, Montse (my host mom) rolls her eyes and tell him "shhh," because that will never happen.

But I feel his frustration.  It's not fair.  The man knows how to make walls.  He sits across from me at the dinner table almost every night wearing a worn out sea-green and sky blue wind jacket, circa 1995.  It's a simple life, but it is his life. Without anymore houses to build, he is SOL.  He's hopeful that in the next 5 years the economy will pick up and he will find work again.  Until then, it's afternoons of searching the web, walking the dog, and watching the news waiting for something to happen.

-Read more about Iñaki Urdangarian and how he was finally sentenced last month.

frustration!

I lost my phone this weekend while I was out on Friday evening, so I had to file a police report.  Not fun!  But what is most frustrating is my inability to clearly communicate the police report over the phone.  I tried speaking in Spanish, but confused, I gave up and asked for an English speaker. I felt embarrassed, frustrated, and stupid.  Why is it that after 6+ months of living here and learning Spanish, I can't hold a phone conversation! You would think I would be savvy enough to have a phone conversation in Spanish.  But nope; over the phone, it is nearly impossible! Without being able to watch a persons lips and body language and see their facial expressions, surprisingly, it is much harder to understand.

What was MOST frustrating, however, was the way I was treated over the phone by the Spanish police woman.  Rude, impatient, and demanding when she couldn't initially understand me, I felt so stupid.  After numerous failed attempts at trying to spell out my last name, I had to pass the phone to my ISA director and have him finish the conversation for me in Spanish.  How disappointing!

Even in restaurants and stores, costumer service is unheard of, a contrast from America where corporations pride themselves on serving the costumer first.  While I never-ever-ever want to leave this place....I am definitely excited to get back to the Land of "How Can I Help You?"

So happy Monday! While mind didn't start off as pleasantly as I would have liked, it is Semana Santa (Easter week) and I can't wait to see the parades! More on that to come.