Mi aventura at an end.

I have been back in the US for about a week now, and I am just now writing this final entry that I promised back in Madrid. I am not sure why I have put it off for so long. Well, that is not entirely true. I realized that I have so much that I want to say and yet very few words for it all. Classic case of writer’s block. Not to mention, I do not want to have to think about my life in Spain in the past tense. In fact, yesterday I caught myself speaking as if I were still there. Someone asked me, “Did you love it?” To which I replied, “Oh it’s perfect. I go to class and then spend the rest of the day at the beach…” Wait. No. That’s not right.

Cadiz was truly more than I ever imagined it would be. At the onset of the trip, I was praying to have the best experience but also keeping my expectations in check as to not set myself up for any letdowns as I did not know how difficult my classes were going to be, how I would get along with the other students, what my living situation would be like, or even if my level of Spanish was going to prove a sufficient means of communication.

After our bus from Madrid dropped us off in Cadiz for the first time, I was overwhelmed. Not because of the beauty of the city or the realization that I was actually in Spain, but because I could not understand a lick of what my new parents were saying to me. After a quick, internal panic, I set my mind to listening and learning. I did not talk much the first couple of days there, as I simply had no words to speak, but I was pleased with how quickly that changed.

Granted, there were a couple times throughout the trip that I wanted to speak English to my padres more than anything. Two times I remember specifically. The first time was because there was a cockroach in my bathroom, and I started panicking. For those of you who do not know, I have an unnatural fear of cockroaches. I am not scared of the very infamous spiders or snakes, but put a cockroach in my face, and you will have one less friend. Anyways, after I called for help, I wanted desperately to find the words to describe where the creature was without having to go anywhere near the bathroom. I could not find specific enough words and for whatever reason started ranting in English. Pepe just gave me a blank stare until I realized what I was doing and shut up. The second time was when I was sick and was simply too miserable to speak any words that required the slightest amount of effort.

Not only did I enjoy my home stay and my classes at La Universidad de Cadiz, but I made some of the best friends and we now have some of the very best memories. I am so grateful for every one of the 16 students who decided to spend their summer in Cadiz. If any of you are reading this, know that I love you so much, and I am so glad we were able to share that amazing experience together.

In all honestly, I could not be more pleased with everything that I did, saw, and learned while in Spain. I am by no means bilingual, but I know I will continue to improve. Next month, I will be volunteering as a translator for a medical-related service opportunity, and I am so excited. I pray that I will have many such opportunities in the future that will allow me to utilize the gift that Spain has given me.    

Full Circle.

Once again, I am back in Madrid. It is a weird feeling. When I was first here, which seems like a lifetime ago, I was just an intimated American with no confidence in my Spanish. The first time I was required to speak Spanish was when we went to the Starbucks across from our hotel. I remember panicking as I quickly scanned my brain for all the "In a Restaurant" vocabulary I had learned over a year ago. After repeating myself a couple of times, I received my cup of fruit as I couldn't figure out how to order a drink.

Now, at this very moment, I am sitting in that same Starbucks, drinking my chocolate frappuccino, and  eavesdropping on the romantic couple that is sitting at the table to my right. If I wanted to, I could recount their conversation to you because as I sit here, ready to return to the US, my Spanish has never been stronger.

I will definitely have a final blog about leaving Cadiz, but for now, I am going to enjoy my last moments in Spain and make the most of every opportunity to speak Spanish.

xoxo

Sickness in Espana.

If you related the title to this entry to "Sleepless in Seattle," then you are one of my favorite people. If not, don't worry about it, because I would be the first to admit that it is a bit of a stretch.

There are few things worse than being sick in a foreign country with none of your regular comforts. Two nights ago, I had a very rough night, which included 5 vomit runs to the bathroom and 1 black out on the kitchen floor. Maybe I should have warned you that I was going to be sharing TMI. Sorry.

Fortunately, mi madre was such a doll. Every time I tried to clean something up she started yelling, "No te preocupes!" I felt so bad that she spent the whole night cleaning up after me, but I was also so grateful because honestly, I really didn't want to have to clean that up.

She asked me a trillion times if I wanted anything, and around the trillionth time, I finally asked for a wet towel. She said, "Porque?" All I could think to say was that my mom [Hey mom, I love you!] normally gave me a wet towel for my face. She told me I already had a towel and didn't need a wet one. That was upsetting. It is amazing how much a full grown person can act like such a child when he or she is sick. I just kept thinking how much I wanted my mommy and my bed and my bathroom and a freaking wet towel. Not too much ask!

I spent all of yesterday in bed, and today I took my final written exam. Maybe being sick has somehow miraculously improved my writing abilities. Hey. It could happen.

Rough.

El Dia de los Muertos decided to come early this year, and it took my closest companion que se llama iPod. I wonder if I've ever been so upset about the destruction of a material possession. I think it is because we go through so much to take care of our electronic devices (and by that I mean Apple products), so when one dies, I take it almost as a personal offense slash personal failure. Not to mention, the 16 hour trek home just won't be the same without my "Soundtrack to Spain" playlist.

I just finished my very last futbol game, possibly of my entire life. If there was some kind scale that measured how much a person has improved overtime, that scale would be completely useless in my case. Mi hermano would be so proud.

In other news, mi profesora told me that my writing was getting sloppier, and I almost started crying. It was at that point I decided I am ready to come back to the USA where my writing is actually appreciated due to the fact that I actually know the words that I want to write.

So now I am going to go practice writing cartas de reclamacion for no apparent reason other than, oh that's right. No puedo escribir.

Coming to you from San Antonio.

If you are wondering where I am at this very moment, then call me a genie because I just made your wish come true. I know it is 5 am in the US right now, but here it is 11 am, so I am sitting in my plaza, waiting to meet my love Kathryn for tapas. I think this will be the 5th time I have gone for tapas this week. Did I mention I love them?

For all of you dying to know, I have yet to turn on my iPod. It is a mixture of both fear and desperation that has kept me from trying it again. Desperation because I think that leaving the iPod in rice for multiple days will somehow increase the chances of its success, and fear because I am pretty sure that it won't change anything at all. Yes, my emotions about my iPod are very complex.

Guess what? I jumped off a bridge a couple of days ago. It was super fun. I'll post pictures tomorrow. In the meantime, here is the best one:

Ps. I found this half-written entry yesterday and thought I'd post it. Sorry it is only half done, but I started writing it and decided I didn't like it, so that was the end of it. Anyways, here it is:

There is something to be said for stepping onto a bus without knowing what you will be stepping into when you step off. I recognize that that sentence is unnaturally awkward, but I tried writing it like 5 different ways and each one was worse than the first. Regardless, being dropped off in the middle of a city with no plans or maps or directions is an experience in and of itself. I should know, seeing as how essentially everything we do is planned a (couple) day(s) in advance, followed by a lot of “winging it.”  

With the exception of the city name, we step off a bus not knowing where we are or where to go. Is the city to the left or the right? We ask someone for directions and find somewhere to eat. Then we ask someone for directions and find somewhere to sleep. Just a bunch of asking for directions and making decisions on a whim. I absolutely love it. 

A lo hecho, pecho.

I have suffered a very low blow. Yesterday after class I went to the beach, as per usual, which is normally around 3:30 pm. Normally, while we are there, the tide is going down, and we end up being much further from the water than when we first arrive. So, naturally, I put my things relatively close to the water so that I would not be too, too far from it by the end of my visit.

Sidebar: I just got asked for directions by a hispanic student. Look at me blending in! Wait. Who am I kidding. That person must have been an idiot.

One minute I was 15 feet away from the water, listening to John Mayer, on the verge of sleep, and the next minute I was literally up to my ears in water, scrambling to collect my things before they were completely drenched in salty, sandy, agua. Being the total idiot that I was already being, I grabbed my bag first, forgetting that John Mayor was still serenading my ears and that my iPod still lay helpless on my towel, which was of course was submerged in water.

I sprinted home, grabbed my computer, sprinted to la plaza, googled what to do when your ipod gets wet, realized all I could do was turn it off, which I already did, so now it is currently sentenced to bed rest for the next 24 hours, which ends in approximately 4 hours.

I was debating the whole rice method, figuring it was probably worthless, but after three people recommended it to me today, I went to El Super Centro and bought a bag of rice. So actually, now I am horizontally carrying (yes, the directions specifically said horizontally) my ipod around in a bag of rice.

Yikes. Class time. Wish me and my iPod luck, por favor!

If you're a bird, I'm a Spaniard.

I finally passed the Spaniard competency test. I've been preparing for over a month, and today I aced it. After classes, I went home for the usual 3:30 pm almuerzo, and afterwards, I took a three and a half hour nap for absolutely no reason at all. When I woke up, mi madre said, "Que buena siesta!" Yes, that is correct. I have mastered the siesta. [Sidebar: For those of you who do not know, I don't ever take naps. In fact, I'm pretty sure I don't even believe in them. Try to tell me that they aren't a waste of time, and I will tell you that you're crazy.]

In the world of food, mi madre came into our room to show us what she was going to "cook" for dinner, and we were very pleased to see that it was a frozen package very much resembling Hot Pockets. Ham and cheese on the inside, fried goodness on the outside. But apparently, the fried bread included in the box is not sufficient for the average Spaniard. Yes, she deep fried the hot pockets.

I finally understand siesta, but I doubt I will ever understand la alimentacion.