My final European blogging session is taking place in Heathrow
Airport where I find myself opting to pay $10 for an hour of internet
rather than cram in a couple hours of sleep on one of the oh so comfy
wooden benches during my 5 hour layover. My arrival at Madrid Barajas
airport this morning was surreal. Was I really back there again, so
soon? I couldn't help but stare at the departure stamp on my passport
for several minutes, in disbelief. It seems like the arrival stamp
dated March 24th was placed just yesterday, then again so much has been
packed into these past 12 weeks that I very well could have arrived in
Spain years ago. It's a funny feeling when time has managed to pass so
very quickly but yet so very slowly...looks like my lack of sleep over
the past couple of days is impacting my ability to articulate my
thoughts which means this blog is sure to be chock full of the words of
wisdom from others who've gone before me complemented by my own
attempts at originality.
My last two weeks in Madrid were filled
with too many good-byes, many failed attempts to be a model tourist and
more than a handful of nights spent waiting for the subway to re-open
at 6am. I've never been one to like good-byes. It seems incredibly
cruel that you could bond with someone only to have them torn away from
your life. I had hopes that this trip would make the experience easier,
but my heart ached just as much when I gave my friend Casey a final two
besos (a kiss on each cheek) as it had back during my 2nd week in
Alicante when I bid farewell to my friend Mark. However, I do feel that
even if the emotional intensity of the situation remains the same, at
least having the practice of saying good-bye reminds me that I will
survive the post farewell blues and that new friends lie just around
the corner.
Probably the most interesting twist on my final
weeks is the fact that I've had to make it through my days with an
injured foot. After walking on it (and dancing as well...) for over 2
weeks I finally went to the doctor at the insistence of my mom.
Thankfully I learned that it's nothing serious but merely a consequence
of walking entirely too much (dancing for 5 hours in a row probably
didn't help the situation though the doctor didn't specifically mention
that...). I received a prescription for anti-inflammatories and the
advice to wear my running shoes when I was out walking. For the most
part I've complied with the doctor's orders although wearing clunky
sneakers certainly didn't help in my attempts to blend in with the
other Europeans. Not that my alarmingly blonde hair and American accent
serves me well in this area either.
Some of the highlights of my
last two weeks have included a weekend in Barcelona, which I spent
almost entirely at the beach. I had every intention of going to the
Picasso Museum which I had missed out on when I traveled there 3 years
ago. Unfortunately I wound up with sun stroke instead (and an
incredibly attractive sunburn that looks like someone smeared red paint
all over the backs of my legs). Looks like a 3rd trip to Barcelona will
have to lie in my future. Also in my last few weeks I made it to
several American movies dubbed in Spanish, the Thyssen museum and
passed several afternoons in Retiro Park (which gets my vote for the
best attraction in Madrid). Having classes at 3:30pm also afforded me
several opportunities to enjoy the Madrid nightlife. I like to think
that staying up until 7am most nights has also helped to prevent any
jet lag that lies ahead in Seattle although that remains to be
seen.Unfortunately I had the wonderful luck of either being ditched by
or separated from my friends while out in Madrid, which meant that many
times I was forced to befriend Spanish speaking strangers as I waited
out the first metro (which is always a better alternative than the $15
cab fare home). One night last week I found myself stuck with a guy
from Florida after my friend followed his friend back to their hotel.
Fortunately, he was incredibly interesting to talk to. Unfortunately
though, guys traveling from the states to Madrid don't tend to be
interested in meeting girls at bars just for talking. He stayed at my
side the entire night for salsa dancing as well as while I struck up
conversations with one Spanish guy after the other. Around 7am we found
ourselves getting breakfast and I decided to strike up a conversation
with the older man sitting to my right. After all, who doesn't enjoy a
good conversation in Spanish over a potato omelette and a cafe con
leche? At this point I suppose this guy from Florida figured out what
my real intentions were and he left for his hotel as I finished my
breakfast and fascinating conversation. I think this is one of the
things I will miss most about Spain, all of the great opportunities to
meet new people as well as practice my Spanish!
Probably
one of my favorite memories over the past few weeks took place
following an incredibly eventful Saturday night with 3 Australians. One
of my best friends during my stay in Madrid has been a 19 year old girl
named Casey who decided to pick up and come to Madrid for 3 months to
work as an au pair after the tragic death of her best friend. This girl
absolutely exudes energy and every time we hang out it is destined to
be an event filled evening. This particular night her two guy friends
from Australia were in town and although I intended to take the last
metro home, I soon found myself out for a night out with them that
lasted far into the morning and included temporarily losing my phone.
Somehow I have amazing luck (or maybe just a really crappy phone?) and
someone returned it to the coat room. Anyways, the next day I was
supposed to meet a friend at the market but arrived over 45 minutes too
late. Although tardiness is a very typical Spanish tendency, it is not
a good attribute to have when you are meeting an ever efficient German.
I soon found myself stranded in La Latina realizing that I was
incredibly tired and hungover and unable to locate the market on my
own. I begged Casey to come meet me and the two of us set off to drag
ourselves around the city to enjoy Frappucinos and sandwiches, finally
ending up in Retiro for the weekly drum circle. Soon after we arrived
it began to rain. Our hoodies worked to keep out the rain for awhile
but we soon found ourselves drenched in the middle of a full on
rainstorm. Casey pulled out her broken umbrella and the two of us
stumbled off to a cafe. When we finally arrived we were soaking wet
with our shoes filled with water so we waited out the rainstorm over
sandwiches and beer in the trash littered cafeteria (this is very
common in Spain, don't ask me why...). Later that night we met up for
another night out only to discover that neither of us had any energy
for an actual night on the town. Instead we wandered down to Sol to
purchase cartons of juice and set off for a plaza for our own version
of a botellon (which is the term for people drinking in public places).
We hadn't been sitting amongst all of the vagabonds for long when two
guys approached us searching for a map. This led to a conversation that
would last almost two hours as we heard all of the hilarious travel
stories of these two fairly drunk English university students. Again,
it started to rain but we wouldn't let ourselves be bothered by that.
Around 1am we bid farewell to our new friends and all the homeless
people and set off to catch the last metro and finally get a good night
of sleep.
My
final days on this trip has left me reflecting on where and how this
adventure started in the first place. For three years I've poured over
books about listening to your heart, going on adventures, and living
your life to the fullest but it wasn't until one day in church back in
January that it all really became clear. I don't usually pray for
anything specific, not wanting to treat God like a slot machine or
anything but on this evening I found myself desperately searching for a
sign for wether or not I should accompany my friend on her travels to
Spain. At that moment a vision of SeaTac airport appeared in my head
and I felt a wave of peace rush over my heart. I was going to Spain and
it all made so much sense suddenly, In the words of Madeleine L'Engle
(Christian Universalist and author of
A Wrinkle in Time),
"
That's the way things become clear, all of a sudden...and then you realize how obvious they'd been all along." However,
less than an hour later I found myself accompanying my best friend to
pick up her sister at SeaTac and the sign suddenly seemed less clear.
Nonetheless, that brief moment of clarity carried me on to making the
decisions that would eventually take me to signing up for language
school in Spain. On my last day with my host mom in Madrid she bestowed
me with the gift of a ceramic elephant with his trunk up, which is a
symbol of good luck. I couldn't help but smile to myself recalling my
first encounter with speaking the language when I uttered in Spanish 3
years ago outside the circus in Sevilla to a young Spanish girl, "Te
gusta los elefantes?" Perhaps this journey to return to Spain and learn
Spanish began long before I even realized it. It's been eye opening to
reflect on all I have learned and how I've grown over these past three
months. This trip that began with a tearful departure at SeaTac airport
followed by a morning at Chamartin train station trying to find solace
in Bob Dylan's lyrics in "Don't Think Twice It's Alright," (it
aint no use to sit and wonder why babe, it don't matter anyhow; An' it
aint no use to sit and wonder why babe if you don't know by now...). And
now here I am heading back to Seattle more confident, hopefully less
anxious, more decisive and able to live fully in the moment. There's
something about seizing the moment, and following your heart, about
trying to figure out who you are when all you know is in another part
of the world that really leaves you desiring to take yourself less
seriously. I spent the last weeks leading up to my departure for Spain
battling panic attacks and stressing about my upcoming Transatlantic
flight. I don't know how I got on the plane, but I'm certain the
knowledge that I had Zantax in my bag certainly helped and we weren't
in the air for 10 minutes before I was popping pills and sitting back
to enjoy the inflight entertainment. Although I definitely have had my
anxiety filled moments in navigating a foreign country for 3 months on
my own, I think this experience has really opened my eyes to the
reality that the present demands to be enjoyed, that you never know
precisely what the future holds and that not being entirely in control
of everything is not the worst thing in the world. Needless to say, I'm
excited to embark on the flight back to the U.S. drug free.
Reflecting
on what I've learned has also led to reflecting on my many regrets from
this trip as well. I didn't travel around Spain as nearly as much as
I'd liked, didn't visit some very important tourist destinations in
Madrid. I probably took too many siestas, missed out on opportunities
to meet people that may have changed my life. I'll probably return home
lacking confidence in some areas and still carrying a great deal of
indecisiveness with me. But then again maybe I will return being able
to seperate what I truly want from what I sense others are demanding of
me. I don't think I'll feel as limited in my choices or by the
situations I find myself in. I hope that I'll be able to think out of
the box, even under pressure. And I do feel that I'll be better
equipped to listen to my heart, as crazy as it's whispers sound. It's
been liberating to meet so many people who have also stepped off the
"beaten path" whether temporarily or indefinitely. It's encouraging to
know I am not alone in my doubts, in my courage, in my stubborn spirit
that remains determined to do it all. And although Spanish is not the
most difficult language in the world, I do believe that diving into
this language for 3 months will leave me less hesitant for going for
the impossible. Like my sister told me at the airport three months ago,
if I can do this, I can do anything.
As I've searched for the answers of why I came on this trip, I've found a great deal of truth in the quote, "Life isn't about finding yourself, it's about creating yourself." Before
this trip I think a part of me imagined that the goal of this world was
to wander down a path hoping that one day I'd stumble across my genuine
self and recognize it as my true self and announce, "hello dear self,
how did I manage to come all this way without you by my side?" But now
I realize that on this journey (i.e. life) we are not on a quest to
find ourselves but we are every day adding to who we are. What counts
in life is not that we strive to reach a destination but that we seize
the opportunities that will only amplify the parts of you that already
are. In the end, I didn't
come on this trip to encounter a definitive reason or to return home
completely changed. Even more, the adventure doesn't end when I get
back to Seattle as it is a constant process to become who you aspire to
be. Now I return back home awash with mixed emotions. In ways I am
exhausted from my trip, feeling unprepared to encounter the adjustments
that await me back at home. However, at the same time I feel absolutely
invigorated and excited for what's next. As the title of my blog
states, Are you tired or do you have dreams? In the end, life is a
daring adventure or it is nothing at all. Wherever I am in the world an
adventure awaits me even if it is amidst working 50 hours a week. In
the end, I am excited to return to Seattle. I feel lucky to have
friends and family awaiting my arrival and to be able to return to a
city I can genuinely call home. There is absolutely nothing like
returning back home after a long stay away, and in the words of T.S.
Eliot:
We shall never cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.
