6 months later...

My grilled cheese and I felt the need to blog today. I am sitting in NU Cafe in Worcester, about to head over to Assumption to meet my Spanish professor about something very important: where I am going to apply for a Fulbright.

The fact that I am even remotely qualified enough to apply for something like this boggles my mind. I remember when I got the email in Barcelona, sitting at my hard boring desk in Residencia Onix with the shades drawn because the white wall across from me was always terriby blinding when the sun hit it. I saw that someone at Assumption had recommended me to apply for a Fulbright scholarship and I was, quite honestly, shocked. But now I am down to the decision making part. Where does my heart want to go next?

Querido Barcelona

Dear Barcelona:
It has been a while. Hello again.
It is ironic to me that the reason I actually have time to blog right now is because we are all trapped at home thanks to Snowstorm Nemo (who the heck came up with that name?!) when less than 2 months ago I was living minutes from the Mediterranean shore.
Less than 2 months ago I was still becoming a different me. I am still becoming that person, but school here in America is a distraction from myself.
I have a strict schedule. I go to class. I do homework. I go the gym. I have a snack. I go to bed. Wake up. Repeat. My planner is constantly with me and I know exactly what I will be doing when I get up the next day.
I am not unhappy. I am not depressed.
But I am not with you anymore.
I think about you every time I am bored. Or stressed. Or when campus is quiet and I remember living in a city. To be honest, part of me is with you constantly. I packed my suitcases but forgot to bring my heart back, I think. (Oh, Alex. Melodramatic much?)

Barcelona, I fell in love with you. I miss you in a different way than I have ever missed anything before. I was torn away before I was ready. I have a place here at home; with my friends, my family, my dogs, my school and my future. But you have changed my future in ways I am unsure how to articulate. I have settled back into my old space faster than I would have liked. Some days, I can't even look at pictures of my life with you because it hurts too much to know I am not there.

Please don't think I am ungrateful. In fact, it is the opposite. I feel so overwhelmed with the opportunities I have been given, and I thank God for those blessings every day. My study abroad experience was a dream.
The hard part is I feel like my dreams have been put on pause. Restlessness is my routine now.
Barcelona, you have changed me, and sometimes I am not sure what to do with these changes. My friends recognize me...or do they? Honestly, I can't even tell anymore.

The good news is I am trying to take what you taught me and apply it to my American life:
Roll with the punches.
Don't plan ahead too far.
Take things as they come.
Live in the moment, because
God has a plan for you.

Let go and let God.

Sincerely,
Post-study abroad student.

First Week Back in America

So it has been exactly a week since I got off the plane in Boston and returned home. There are snow flurries outside and we have our Christmas tree surrounded by presents getting ready for the holiday. I have gone to bed at 11 o'clock or earlier every night since I got back and am finally starting to feel rested and normal. Turns out, nearly four months of living somewhere that is 6 hours ahead does not get undone in a day...
So what have I done with my first week in America?
1. Shopping
2. TGIF's and Applebee's
3. Rang up a million groceries at Shaw's Supermarkets
4. Watched The Big Bang Theory and Cupcake Wars
5. Went to a birthday party
6. Unpacked and began my mountain of laundry

How does it feel to be back? This is the question I have been asked by nearly everyone. I am not a liar, so I tell them the truth: "Weird, but good." It is weird. It is weird to be driving a car instead of walking places. It is weird to see all the signs in just one language-English. Even weirder to hear American accents everywhere. The day after I got home, my mom, sister, and I were in Kohl's Christmas shopping. I heard a woman talking and instantly got excited, as we all did when we heard a familiar voice during study abroad. I almost said, "Look! That woman is from America!" But then I realized that everyone was from America.
       I am not in Europe anymore. My life no longer consists of the Mediterranean, speaking Spanish, and country-hopping every weekend. Palm trees are not a part of the landscape. I don't wake up randomly to hear protests on the streets and I don't have to hold on to my purse everywhere I go. The food is fattier and bigger. I am in Charlton now, and I find myself wandering around the house trying to figure out what to do with myself. There are moments when it hits me, when I am sad because I am here, but there are moments when I am just so happy to be back home in my New England, with the people that I love.

I have had a lot of time to think since being back, and I realized one of the great joys and great trials of study abroad is that you make it your home. A semester is a long time to be someplace foreign, and by the time I left, I didn't feel as much like a foreigner in Barcelona. The streets were familiar and I knew where to get fresh fruit and how long it would take to walk to Plaza Catalunya. But I still felt like I didn't belong when people spoke to me in English once they heard my accent or when I caught people staring at me on the metro. Three and a half months is not enough time to become a part of a place. So instead, because we all need to find a home, you become a part of the people.
Now, my friends are scattered around the globe, from Australia to England to Barcelona to California. How amazing is that, to have a home in all of those places? Blessed is the only word grand enough to encompass that magic.
It is true that I was happy to be coming home.
It is also true that I cried in the taxi on the way to the airport.

I thought that this blog was going to end when I got back to America. I thought that when I got home, I would put my "study abroad journal" away and continue with the one I kept here, in Massachusetts. But then I realized that I am not going to simply stop writing about study abroad.
I will be writing about this for the rest of my life.

T-minus 48 hours

How weird is that title? In less than 2 days I will be on a plane back to the United States. I am finishing up my finals today and tomorrow will be spent saying goodbye and packing...fingers crossed I fit all the Swiss chocolate in my suitcase! This week has been a crazy one and it is hard to believe I have lived in Barcelona for nearly 4 months. I feel like I blinked and it was over.
Now, if only I could blink and the long plane ride home could go that fast as well...

Hasta pronto!
See everyone soon!

This is where I went today

So for one of my art classes, our final includes wandering around Barcelona and drawing Gaudí's buildings. Today I went to Casa Mila, or La Pedrera. As I climbed up on the roof and looked around me at the blue Mediterranean sky and the view of Paseig de Gracia, I realized how much I am going to miss Barcelona. It is not every city in the world that you can wake up and go explore a building as amazing as this one.

In truth, by the time I leave, I will not have seen everything Barcelona has to offer. But I know that taking every day and living it to the fullest has made my study abroad experience a fulfilling one. It has not always been easy. Sometimes, when you wake up, you are simply exhausted. It is mind-boggling to me that three days ago I was in the Swiss Alps playing in the snow and devouring the best chocolate in the world, and today I walked around Barcelona under blue skies without a jacket. In two hours I am going to class.

 One of the most challenging things about studying abroad is the constant movement. You don't get the time to absorb everything you have seen and done. I got back from Switzerland at 10 pm Sunday night, and the next morning I was sitting in class listening to a lecture. Same story goes for all of my trips. There is no time to really relax as a study abroad student, which is one of the hardest parts and also one of the most rewarding. You learn to pick yourself up and keep on going even when all you need is a straight two days of sleep and to sit down with some fattening American food and a movie.

But every time you do pick yourself up, re-pack the backpack, and head out into the city, you never regret losing the sleep. I can sleep in America.

Keeping it in perspective

It is the first of December, and I started the month off right with a snowshoeing trip to the top of a mountain in the Swiss Alps. I was standing in the fog on a mountain peak forgetting that my life is real.
I started study abroad riding a horse through Tuscany vineyards, and ended it with a hike to the sky.

While hiking in Switzerland, I realized that these will be the days I remember when I am old. What greater gift can I ask for than 3 and a half months of moments that are going to last my lifetime?

Christmas came early.

Post about Tapas in Granada

One of the coolest (and most famous) things about Granada is the free tapas. Go to a bar, buy a drink, and they bring you tapas. Some places let you choose. Others, it is a surprise. Basically, I paid 2 euro for most of my meals in Granada!

(Excluding the chocolate con churros. That is not something you get for free. But oh, so worth it.)

Post about Tapas in Seville

We did a "tapas tour" in Seville. Three tapas bars and more tapas (appetizers) than we could handle! Excuse the fact that I am unsure of what they were called. But who cares about names when they tasted that good?

The eager hands!

Waiting to dig in. The red and white plate at the bottom was my favorite. 

I believe it was some sort of fish.

Cheese fries. Delicious, but don't stand up to America.

This was called the Tower...of something I don't remember. 

But the important thing is all the cheese.

Some sort of hummus. 

Wish I knew what this one was called too...

Paella, salad, and tortilla española.

My new favorite thing: tinto de verano! (summer wine)

Streets, Smells, and a Sense of Humor

What do I remember the most about Granada?

The smells. The rain. The streets.

The smells.

When we first got off the bus and headed to our hostel (which, oddly enough, we found without getting horribly lost), we walked up a side street lined with vendors and various stores selling foreign goods, like lamps from Morocco and Arabic tea. The air hung with the thick scent of incense floating over leather. I will always associate that musky, deep smell with the streets of Granada. 

       Especially since later that day, we relaxed with an evening of traditional Arabic baths. The atmosphere of an Arabic bath is one of complete immersion and relaxation. You seriously have to be a crazy person not to be relaxed in that environment.

       The air in the bathhouse was heavy with incense and the deep notes of the oil used for massages. We sipped Moorish tea and sucked on sweet candy, the heat from the baths and humidity of the room sinking into our bodies, every sensation alert. It was such a blessing to be able to unwind from the busy days of traveling; for the first time in weeks my mind was clear. I don't even like tea. Or incense, for that matter.

But in Granada, those things made sense. 

The rain and the streets.

The reason we even felt the need for Arabic baths was because our entire first afternoon in Granada was spent wandering in torrential downpours. We spent hours lost in the Albacin neighborhood, desperately asking anyone we could find for help. If they were a local, all they told us was "¡Arriba!" (up) or "¡Abajo!" (down), depending on our current location. 

        The Albacin is a quite hilly area, and our sole reason for being up there in the first place was to get a view of the Alhambra at the Mirador de San Nicolas. We only ran into problems when we tried to get back down by way of the Paseo de los Tristes, or the Walk of the Sad. Esther and I were not communicating well and both asking how to get to different places...it is a miracle we made it out at all. In our desperation, we asked some other tourists (who happened to be from other places in Spain) if we could follow them out. All went well until they stopped to ask for directions too, and then all of us were lost together. That just goes to show you how confusing this neighborhood was. Even the native Spanish speakers were lost, never mind two American girls who have terrible inner GPS's.

But we did, in fact, escape from the maze that was the Albacin and made our way down Paseo de los Tristes. I do not need to explain my joy at having found our destination. 

This photo says it all:

Yup. There I am, beyond thrilled to have found this very pretty street, even in the rain. One thing I have learned from study abroad is the most important thing to take with you when traveling is a sense of humor.

P.S.: That's the Alhambra behind me! A beautiful palace and fortress, the most visited site in all of Spain. 

P.P.S: If you look closely at this picture, you can see that the pockets of my jeans are much lighter than the rest of my pants. That's because my sweatshirt was covering them during the rain. Ha! I was soaked!

Dejé mi corazón en Seville

I left my heart in Seville.

From the moment I breathed in the fresh southern Spain air, I knew part of me was at home. The whole entire trip I just kept saying, "Indiana Jones lives here! Can't you just picture him leaping from roof to roof and popping out of random street corners?"

It is amazing the difference between Barcelona and Seville. The architecture there is so gritty and down-to-earth; much more of an Islamic influence and the entire city felt older. Wiser. Slower. The phrase to live by in Seville is mañana, mañana. Tomorrow, tomorrow.
You don't have to dress up to go out and have a drink. I went out for tapas and wine wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and didn't even stand out. In Barcelona, that is unheard of.
Speaking of that, I finally discovered a wine I absolutely adore. It is called tinto de verano (summer wine); or, basically, carbonated lemonade (Fanta or something) and red wine. Truly delicious, and also a typical southern Spain thing.
Let's not forget the orange trees. They line nearly every street in Seville. I don't think I had ever actually seen an orange outside of a grocery store until this trip. Legend has it that one of the old kings, who married a woman from Granada, planted all those orange trees for the white blossoms. One year his queen wanted to return to her home because she missed the snow. He refused to let her leave, but loved her so much he said he would bring the snow to her. Well, it is always hot in Seville. The king planted the orange trees so when they bloomed and the petals fell, it would look like soft snow falling to the ground.

And so, I fell head over heels for Seville. The first few hours were admittedly hard for me. My heart broke a little because I desperately wished I had chosen to study there instead of Barcelona. This sparked much inner turbulence and frustration with myself. Every city I have visited, I have loved more than Barcelona.

Then I started considering that idea. Is my love-hate relationship with Barcelona a sign that I dislike Barcelona, or is it part of human nature to always 

want what they cannot have?

On one of my tours here in Barcelona, our guide told us that Barcelona is the third most visited city in the world. Not in Spain; not in Europe. The world. That is no small fact. And I live here. That is no small fact either. But the tragedy of living in a beautiful place is sometimes you forget to recognize the beauty.

If I had a whirlwind 48 hours in Barcelona, as I have had with all of the other places I have visited, would I fall in love? The truth is I will never know for sure. But I do know that although Barcelona enchants me during the day, at night the pace here is too fast for me. There are only so many times I can go dress up to a club before I get bored and irritated. Sangria is actually not all that thrilling. The pickpockets make everywhere dangerous. In Seville, I could safely put my purse down on the chair next to me. After 2 and a half months in Barcelona, not holding on to my things every second was exciting.
Basically, I am not the type of girl who parties on the weekends. Or during the week, for that matter, as many people do in Barcelona. This culture is so active and loud and constant. I am an old woman at heart. I much prefer peace and quiet and, well, blogging. I get excited about things like orange trees and gardens and journals.

And so there you have the things that I dislike about Barcelona; to sum it all up, basically, the pace of life. But I have only discovered this because I live here. It is because of my time here that I have realized what is really important to me; the little things you find in the quiet. If I did live in Seville, maybe I wouldn't appreciate the little things as much.

 If I only had 48 hours, my city would be a wild, exciting, modern fantasy that would no doubt capture my heart and leave me saying, "I wish I studied abroad in Barcelona."

I did leave my heart in Seville. I also left a piece of myself in Venice and in Paris, and a large part of my soul in the Pyrenees mountains.
When I fly back to the States in a few weeks and plant my feet back on reality, I am going to have a huge gap where mi vida en Barcelona used to be.
You are thinking, "Alex, stop it. You are being depressing."
Not really. When I think about going home, I know I will be sad for a while.
But the greater joy, and the greater thing to be thankful for here, is the fact that I can even say,
"I had a life in Barcelona."