A feather just drifted onto my bed in a crisp morning breeze through the open door in my new piso (apartment) here in quaint little Laredo. Perhaps the only evidence left of a duckling that decided to fly away home…and was shot on the way up. I shall cherish this feather and it shall lay alongside my other precious memorabilia here in Laredo—my mini lawn gnome, my mini homies and my pin of Michael Jackson and ET during their duet performance in 1992.
Do I already digress in this first paragraph of my first entry here in Spain? Hmm…Well, I can honestly say that all things here have been almost identical to what I expected, except for the feelings in my heart to go along with these occurrences.
Saying good-bye to my mother at the airport in Chicago could have potentially been one of the most difficult things I had done in my entire life, but as soon as I began to cry I felt an unfamiliar arm on my shoulder and an excited voice say, “HEY! You’re from Nebraska!” I turned around to see an acquaintance of mine who was also going to Spain to do the same program as me, and he was on the same flight. We sat together and he was so nice and energetic that it kept my mind off of all the rather depressing or scary things I could have been thinking about on that 8-hour flight to Frankfurt.
I finally arrived in Madrid, after 8 hours of in and out lucid dreaming in the Frankfurt airport atop of my suitcases. Little Tamara picked me up with her aunt, and I then slept for a good 12-14 hours. The next few days were filled with excitement and a constant surrounding of the Spanish language and culture. I went to Ponferrada to stay with Tamara and her abuela for two nights. I went to la feria (fair), as Ponferrada was having its yearly festival. I met Tamara’s friends, which was overwhelming at first because I learned most of my Spanish in Mexico and was still very unaccustomed to Castellano (Spain Spanish)—especially all the colloquial expressions, extremely fast-paced and loud speech mixed with an accent that I am still getting used to (and a lisp that I at first refused to adapt, yet now find myself saying “grathiath” instead of gracias and “thtaluego” instead of hasta luego). I got to watch some fuegos artificiales (fireworks) that were quite impressive and at la feria I got to try Spain’s version of churros. Deliciosa!
It wasn’t much different from a carnival here at home from first glances, but venturing around inside was quite an inexplicable experience for me. The cool night air, the smell of churros and algodón de azucar (cotton candy), Spanish language and music all around me, the different tómbolas (raffles/booths where you play those silly games to win a goldfish that will die in 2 days) and the little differences in rides and names of things and smells and colors that made the experience so unique and different from a visit to a down-home Nebraskan carnival. I learned a lot of new words just being there and taking it all in; it was a very memorable first night out in España.
The next day, Tamara’s abuela made paella, and although my taste buds had once before ventured into the paella world, they had never experienced the maravillosa pleasure of a homemade Spanish abuela’s paella. Tamara showed me around the enchanting city of Ponferrada where I visited the ayuntamiento (city hall building) and a castillo (castle) that was more so a fortaleza (fortress). So far, the weather here in Spain has been doing its best to appease me. Seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit beautiful nubes (clouds) and warm sunny breezes that tempt my nostrils with the scents of sunflowers and the delicious food that lie just a few steps away. I went out that evening once more with Tamara and her friends and experienced the barhopping tapas experience. We went from little bar to little bar trying mini cervezas (beers) and vino (wine). I experienced a lot of tapas topped with jamón seranno (a pungent-tasting typical ham in Spain) and I am beginning to enjoy that just as much as the Spaniards who swear they couldn’t live without it. The next morning, off on a bus once again to my new hometown.
I have moved all over the place the past couple of weeks, and was so looking forward to having a place to myself and getting to unpack and have a home again. My new colleagues at one of the two schools where I will be working came and picked me up from the bus station, and the REAL rapid-fire Spanish began. My few days with Tamara were a godsend because otherwise, I would not have understood a word these ladies were saying to me. At this point, I am able to understand about 80% of what people say to me; at the beginning it was more like 40%. It is becoming more and more natural to me and I can watch TV in Spanish without having to think about it too much. My main trouble at this point is that something happens when I begin to speak. I have perfect sentences formulated in my head. I can picture it and say it in my head so eloquently, and then I speak and the nerves kick in and I sound like I’m in Spanish 101 again. I’ve only been here for a week though, and I am sure it will continue to get better.
I have met the teachers at both of my schools—I will be the instructor of the oral and conversational English classes. I am a little nervous about coming up with lesson plans as I have never taught before, but they gave me some books and I’ve taken a million foreign language classes, so I hope that helps. They learn British English. Perhaps I shall have to adopt a British accent while living here. Niños, repeat after me, “Yes, I would fancy a spot of tea and a dollop of haggis.” ¡Muy bien!
I finally found an apartment and it is beautiful. I love the town here and I really love all the people I am working with. I really missed my friends and family the first few days here—to an overwhelming and crushing extent. I was so incredibly lonely and scared. I am not afraid to admit that I was even moved to intense tears a couple of times because I felt so alone and freaked out by my decision to live here by myself for a year. But it was this that I wanted, and I am beginning to enjoy it quite a bit. I have time for myself for the first time in my life. I can walk by the ocean. I can write in my blog. I can read a book. I can make a delicious eloquent dinner for one. I can go shopping at all the amazing millions of shops in town. I can write a letter. I can watch a movie. I can dance. I can sing. I can pray. I can laugh. I can do whatever I want, and it’s going to take some getting used to, but I realize I should cherish it, because never again will life be this pace for me.
--------------------------------------------------------------
I leave for Venice tonight to meet up with two beloved friends! I will spend two nights in Venezia, 2 nights in Milano and then off to Germany and the Czech Republic for a while. I will then come home to Laredo where I will hopefully find a roommate and begin my work. The adventure continues!
10 September, 2009
01 September, 2009
Crafting of a Soul
The sensation of my heart at this moment is completely inexplicable; however, a few adjectives may suffice: full, peaceful, excited, nervous, nostalgic and free...my heart has been filled with the kind of peace for which I have always longed, and because of God's great love, I am now able to accomplish a dream I have had since age 4 of living abroad.
When I look back on where I came from, on where I was a year before this, I can hardly believe I made it to this point. My heart and soul were in crumbles. After the death of my dad, the multiple heartbreaks (unworthy of my mentioning) that ensued, the rape, the further heartbreak and numbness that followed and the abandonment of my closest friends I then also had to deal with the harsh realization that my pure selfless qualities were quickly leading to my destruction. My finances were in shambles (from giving too much...honestly) and however untrue, I felt as if I had no real friends to turn to. This was perhaps because I had been abandoned so much so quickly and perhaps because I did not want to burden anyone with the unbearable weight which I was carrying. I felt as if I had been an abnormally gracious giver and lover my whole life and that God must be punishing me for the few mistakes I had consciously made.
There was a point in October of 2008 where I sickly realized that for the first time I understood why some people opt to opt out of life and just throw in the towel then pick it back up, tie it around their necks and end it. As cliché/emo as this sounds, I felt truly hollow. I often looked at myself in the mirror and wondered where the real me had run off to, yet was so emotionless (or too overwhelmed with emotion?) to go venture and find myself. I would wake up in the middle of the day with my head under the covers and no desire to get out of bed. What was wrong with me? For years I was an over-involved straight-A student, and yet, at this point, nothing seemed to matter. Nothing had purpose. You wake up, you eat, you sleep, you die. There seemed no point to love, it always left you giving too much and receiving nothing but a humiliating pile of crap at your door. Yet love was all I craved. I searched. My friends failed. My money failed. My family even failed. As much as I love all these people, none of them offered the unconditional merciful love which I needed.
Because I am no longer this girl, I will openly admit to the fact that I was smoking and drinking and doing whatever I could to escape from the harsh reality that was my life. I went to the Bible study I joined my first semester of college because I loved the girls and I also wanted to appease my mother and let her and the rest of the world think I was ok—that I was the normal Erika from before Mexico. I even slowly stopped going to my Bible study as my depression began to overtake me completely. One Monday evening when I was going to smoke and watch some crappy TV and try to find something to laugh at, I was phoned by multiple girls in my Bible study asking if I was coming that night...I was secretly a bit annoyed, yet felt some obligation to attend. I went. I just remember the extreme amount of care in my two friend's eyes as they looked at me and asked me how I was. "Oh, I'm fine!" But they wanted to know how I really was...something inside them told them I was anything but fine, and when they tactfully divulged this information to me, my immediate thought was, "Crap. I don't want to unload all this crap on anyone. I'm just going to have to make up some stupid crappy sappy Christian story about how I was hurting and then God came to the rescue and now I'm just fine and dandy...whatever.." So, I started my interweaving of truth and deceit, yet, in the end, the truth of my pain began to flow out of my inner soul and from the deepest depths of my heart.
Tears—real, genuine tears—flowed from my eyes, I tell you, I was practically hyperventilating. I was embarrassed, I'd never learned to cry, especially in front of PEOPLE! I was showing weakness, and it was incredibly scary, but I felt safe and something in me proved it necessary to let it out. And these girls were there, and God, whom I had grown to hate, still proved to love me, even in my depressing mess of rebellion. I went home that night and for the first time in years I sat in my room and I wept, I practically screamed. I had emotions pent up from the time I was 12 years old that I had never let out, and I finally did. And I did what any normal girl in my situation would do...write a letter to the big G. I told him I was angry. I said I was sorry. I said I felt hated. I said I was sick of doing things my own way and that if he were really up there and really existed and really loved me, that I was ready to do things his was because obviously I was terrible at controlling my own life.
It truly worked. The next day, I woke up feeling refreshed, whole and purposeful. I spoke with my teachers, I got As in all of my classes, I began paying off my debt, I began making REAL friendships, God taught me to be more assertive and take care of myself...in the past year I have learned how to love and who to love, I have learned how to trust again and who to trust, I have gained wisdom, purity and been taught the ever-so-important lesson of humility. I have purpose, I am happy, and because I have learned to be faithful to my "unseen god" I have been blessed beyond belief.
I have the kinds of friendships you read about or see in fantastic movies. I made three very best friends in the past year, and if you are one of them, you know who you are, and I do not know what I would do without you, the three of you are the light of my life and the most amazing gift I've ever received in my life—and I can say that in full truth. But besides these three people, the other friends I have in my life are also so incredibly wonderful and warm and giving. I would do anything for them, and they the same for me (which I could never say in full faith about my past friends).
Now I am off to Laredo, Spain. I will be surrounded by the beautiful sea and mountains, I will be close to all of the amazing international friends I have made, I will be experiencing a laid-back and colorful culture of which I have always dreamed. I will have time for myself! I will have time to read and write and sing and dance and take hikes and best of all, to let God change me even more. To have my heart and soul purified and draw closer to his heart. If you have read this far, I hope you would continue to stay updated on my life via this blog and in whatever other means you would like.
Ven conmigooo as I delve into the depths of my beloved Europe! :)
When I look back on where I came from, on where I was a year before this, I can hardly believe I made it to this point. My heart and soul were in crumbles. After the death of my dad, the multiple heartbreaks (unworthy of my mentioning) that ensued, the rape, the further heartbreak and numbness that followed and the abandonment of my closest friends I then also had to deal with the harsh realization that my pure selfless qualities were quickly leading to my destruction. My finances were in shambles (from giving too much...honestly) and however untrue, I felt as if I had no real friends to turn to. This was perhaps because I had been abandoned so much so quickly and perhaps because I did not want to burden anyone with the unbearable weight which I was carrying. I felt as if I had been an abnormally gracious giver and lover my whole life and that God must be punishing me for the few mistakes I had consciously made.
There was a point in October of 2008 where I sickly realized that for the first time I understood why some people opt to opt out of life and just throw in the towel then pick it back up, tie it around their necks and end it. As cliché/emo as this sounds, I felt truly hollow. I often looked at myself in the mirror and wondered where the real me had run off to, yet was so emotionless (or too overwhelmed with emotion?) to go venture and find myself. I would wake up in the middle of the day with my head under the covers and no desire to get out of bed. What was wrong with me? For years I was an over-involved straight-A student, and yet, at this point, nothing seemed to matter. Nothing had purpose. You wake up, you eat, you sleep, you die. There seemed no point to love, it always left you giving too much and receiving nothing but a humiliating pile of crap at your door. Yet love was all I craved. I searched. My friends failed. My money failed. My family even failed. As much as I love all these people, none of them offered the unconditional merciful love which I needed.
Because I am no longer this girl, I will openly admit to the fact that I was smoking and drinking and doing whatever I could to escape from the harsh reality that was my life. I went to the Bible study I joined my first semester of college because I loved the girls and I also wanted to appease my mother and let her and the rest of the world think I was ok—that I was the normal Erika from before Mexico. I even slowly stopped going to my Bible study as my depression began to overtake me completely. One Monday evening when I was going to smoke and watch some crappy TV and try to find something to laugh at, I was phoned by multiple girls in my Bible study asking if I was coming that night...I was secretly a bit annoyed, yet felt some obligation to attend. I went. I just remember the extreme amount of care in my two friend's eyes as they looked at me and asked me how I was. "Oh, I'm fine!" But they wanted to know how I really was...something inside them told them I was anything but fine, and when they tactfully divulged this information to me, my immediate thought was, "Crap. I don't want to unload all this crap on anyone. I'm just going to have to make up some stupid crappy sappy Christian story about how I was hurting and then God came to the rescue and now I'm just fine and dandy...whatever.." So, I started my interweaving of truth and deceit, yet, in the end, the truth of my pain began to flow out of my inner soul and from the deepest depths of my heart.
Tears—real, genuine tears—flowed from my eyes, I tell you, I was practically hyperventilating. I was embarrassed, I'd never learned to cry, especially in front of PEOPLE! I was showing weakness, and it was incredibly scary, but I felt safe and something in me proved it necessary to let it out. And these girls were there, and God, whom I had grown to hate, still proved to love me, even in my depressing mess of rebellion. I went home that night and for the first time in years I sat in my room and I wept, I practically screamed. I had emotions pent up from the time I was 12 years old that I had never let out, and I finally did. And I did what any normal girl in my situation would do...write a letter to the big G. I told him I was angry. I said I was sorry. I said I felt hated. I said I was sick of doing things my own way and that if he were really up there and really existed and really loved me, that I was ready to do things his was because obviously I was terrible at controlling my own life.
It truly worked. The next day, I woke up feeling refreshed, whole and purposeful. I spoke with my teachers, I got As in all of my classes, I began paying off my debt, I began making REAL friendships, God taught me to be more assertive and take care of myself...in the past year I have learned how to love and who to love, I have learned how to trust again and who to trust, I have gained wisdom, purity and been taught the ever-so-important lesson of humility. I have purpose, I am happy, and because I have learned to be faithful to my "unseen god" I have been blessed beyond belief.
I have the kinds of friendships you read about or see in fantastic movies. I made three very best friends in the past year, and if you are one of them, you know who you are, and I do not know what I would do without you, the three of you are the light of my life and the most amazing gift I've ever received in my life—and I can say that in full truth. But besides these three people, the other friends I have in my life are also so incredibly wonderful and warm and giving. I would do anything for them, and they the same for me (which I could never say in full faith about my past friends).
Now I am off to Laredo, Spain. I will be surrounded by the beautiful sea and mountains, I will be close to all of the amazing international friends I have made, I will be experiencing a laid-back and colorful culture of which I have always dreamed. I will have time for myself! I will have time to read and write and sing and dance and take hikes and best of all, to let God change me even more. To have my heart and soul purified and draw closer to his heart. If you have read this far, I hope you would continue to stay updated on my life via this blog and in whatever other means you would like.
Ven conmigooo as I delve into the depths of my beloved Europe! :)
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