Closing of a Chapter: The Final Farewell

Hello friends and family!

I recently have been terrible about updating my blog. I believe the last post was on January 7. Of course, much has happened since then but, at this moment, I don't feel like writing about it because there is something far more important I want to write about. Probably the biggest news I have to relay to you all is that I am coming home this Sunday, March 16. This means I have a mere two days more or less left in Vitoria, which to me is heartbreaking. I have in a sense established myself and the memories I now have will be irreplaceable, along with the friends I have made here. The lessons and experiences I gained opened my mind to a whole new world-- where being alone is okay; sometimes bad things happen and you must recover quickly; things never really go as planned; you have to deal with crappy people wherever you go; [some] men are pigs (my 11th grade history teacher was right about that); timing is everything; but most importantly I learned to make the most out of every single moment you have because time flies and the experiences that you make right now will only be fragmented memories of your future. So I sit here these last few days in Vitoria with my friends who I certainly will never forget and I'm holding on for dear life to these final memories we will make and cementing them in my mind, hoping that one day, I will be lucky enough to be with them again.

I fell in love with a culture.
I fell in love with a city.
I fell in love with my friends.
And I fell in love.

I've begun reflecting on the last 9 1/2 months, becoming increasingly more nostalgic and altogether more grateful for my experience in Vitoria. This is largely in part due to my small but stable group of friends I made here. I remember when I first got to Spain, I was extremely nervous, and basically regretting taking a gap year. I was jealous that my friends got to start university (yeah, I say university now, not college, because I'm basically an honorary European). At first I didn't really have any friends, and presumably so. Making friends is a process. I did make one friend who I will always remember despite our short amount of time we spent together, Catherine. And for that time we spent together, I didn't feel so alone. Let me just take a moment to say, Catherine (if you're reading this), thank you for making me go to Valencia, I will honestly NEVER EVER forget that trip--eating really cheap pizza every night, and buying 2 euro Sangria to get the night started. And of course, it lead me to someone else who I was incredibly grateful to meet (more on you later if you are also reading this. Don't think you're getting out of this scot free, Elliot!).

After my trip to Valencia, I made my way to Vitoria, again, not having a clue who I would meet, or what the rest of my journey would have in store. To put it simply, looking back at where I thought I was going to be in March at the beginning, compared to where I am now.... it is NOTHING like I expected. A couple weeks ago, I was crying to my friends Melanie, Nika and Steve because I did not get into UF. Yes, okay personal information I just posted for everyone to read. Anyway, Melanie squatted down next to me and told me "nothing ever works out the way you think it will, but everything happens for a reason. You could have been any other place in Spain, and you came to Vitoria. You could have been with someone else, but you met Steve. You could have made other friends, but you met us. Everything happens for a reason." You know, it's the cliche things that hold the most truth.

When looking for another family to go to after the one in Barcelona, I could have stayed in Barcelona, there were plenty of other families needing an au pair, but I chose Vitoria-Gasteiz. And those first few weeks here were brutal. I thought for sure I made a mistake. I thought that until I met Melanie. And then through her I met Sophie. We were the best trio if I ever did see one. They were there for me when I quit being an au pair, and helped me in any way they could (wine/kalimotxo was their primary solution).

I think when one is out of their element and culture bubble for an extended period of time, they are drawn to those in similar situations and they feed off of it to feel that acceptance like they did back home. But the difference about these friends (friends back home take no offense to this. I'm sure you are experiencing the same bonds, too.) is that I wasn't exactly forced to hang out with them. Back home, my group of friends and I had been friends since we were 11, some even longer. You're just kind of with these people growing up, and that's that. When I stepped outside of that bubble, I realized, I don't have to feel obligated to act a certain way to fit in with my friends or with how everyone else thinks I should act. It took me my whole life up until now to realize that. So to my friends I have met in my travels, thank you for accepting my presence in all my weird, loud laughing and sometimes stoic glory.

After being in Vitoria for about a month, I ventured off to Brussels, Belgium (told you'd I'd come back to you Elliot), some of you may recall this, probably because of my sheer excitement I had for this trip. My friends back home probably got bothered by me during that time, because it was literally the only thing I could talk about. There was no "playing it cool." I didn't necessarily address this when I wrote about being in Valencia, because I thought that would be creepy and over-the-top. But hey, I'm going back home in two days. It's about leaving it all out on the table at this point, right? So here we go...

[Clears throat] Most romantic, cheesy, unbelievable, outrageous experience to happen to me still to this day. When Catherine and I were out, there happened to be a certain someone who caught my eye, but it appeared he was leaving and I was sad, but life goes on. To my dismay, maybe 10 minutes later, this same guy interrupted the conversation I was having with someone. I can't remember it verbatim, but it was something to the effect of "Uh.. Excuse me, but I'm sorry, I have to steal her away from you." Obviously I was really flattered, and secretly clicking my heels and screaming in my head. But we hit it off. Like really hit it off. We ended up talking to each other from about two to six in the morning on a bench in Valencia. And as the sun was rising, we walked to the old city center, that if you scroll down the page a bit to the Valencia blog, there is a fountain in the middle of it. Well, if I recall correctly, as the sun was rising over the buildings, Elliot picked me up and swung me in circles and (brace yourselves) kissed me. From that point on we kept in touch, I went to visit him in Brussels, had a wonderful time and that was that. We still talk. But I'm convinced that Valencia will forever remain a strong memory. So Elliot, really, I'm so thankful to have had the chance to meet you.  And maybe you're right, maybe our paths will cross again in the future.

Everything happens for a reason. Timing is everything.

Right before Sophie's departure back to Denmark, I was introduced to someone else who has deeply impacted me, and I can't even explain in words how lucky I am to have met him. Most of you have probably seen some pictures of me and Steve on Facebook, and really a lot of those pictures have summed up my time with him. Plain and simple: he is wonderful, and leaving him will be one of the hardest parts about leaving Vitoria. It's hard for me to even explain just exactly how I feel for this guy. He's one of a kind. And he has brought so much joy to me (and occasionally anger) since I have been with him. Sometimes, I would wish to myself that I wouldn't have met him because it in turn would make my departure so much easier. Then I realize, that would be robbing myself of one more experience that I will never, ever forget. I'm going to miss his kisses, his cooking skills, his arms around me, and his friendship much more than I could even convey in words.

By traveling to Spain, I quickly discovered that I was one of, if not THE youngest person out of all my friends. It's kind of an interesting feeling. Maybe it's because of the lower drinking age since it levels out the playing field of friends. Everyone is an equal. In the States, you are confined to people your own age in a sense. And really, it's stupid. I have learned so much from my friends through their own individual life stories and experiences. And this is where I learned another valuable lesson: Traveling for the sake of saying "Oh, of COURSE I've been there" or for sheer bragging rights is not traveling at all. Traveling is experiencing a culture. It's getting to know your surroundings in a foreign place. It's learning a language. It's eating different food. It's being able to acknowledge how these individual experiences have shaped you as a person. It's about making friends and learning through them as well as yourself. 

One of my biggest fears about returning home, and don't receive this in a pretentious way, is the question "How was Spain?"There is really no way I will be able to sit down with any person, no matter how close of a friend you may be, and explain to you how Spain was. I can tell you this: It was incredible and there is not a single part of me that regrets leaving everything I know to come to a foreign place on my own. And with that, I will then tell you, go try it yourself. Get out of your comfort zone and create your own unexplainable memories. Educate yourself through the knowledge of others and through your travels. Everyone owes that to themselves. And as a young traveler, I can't help but stress the importance of traveling, and how it has lead me to an exploration of self, people and culture. With that, I would like to thank everyone who I have met through this journey and all of those who have helped me. You all know who you are.

As for me, maybe this particular chapter in my life is closing, but really, my life is just now starting and I couldn't be more excited to see where it leads me.

Everything happens for a reason.

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. -Mark Twain

Feliz Año Nuevo!

Hello everyone! I am back! No more panicking!

I realize it has been well over a month since I have put any effort into adding to my blog. I can say, however, that I have a multitude of stories to excite you with-- stories of adventure, fun and valor.

The last update I had was on Thanksgiving day. From that point on, I became relatively busy in preparation for my mother's arrival and just for the holidays in general. December brought along a lot of change. To begin, one of my best friends in Vitoria, Sophie, had to leave back to Denmark. That was not exactly the easiest goodbye. For those of you who didn't know, Mel, Sophie and I are like a trinity. Things just haven't felt the same without her. Luckily, I still have the wonderful Melanie, Magui, abundance of English teaching friends, and (the newest addition to the pack) Steve. Regardless, I am still counting down the days in which Sophie returns to Vitoria for a little bit!

Gone but not forgotten!

December 21, my mother arrived. I had the ultimate task of navigating myself from Vitoria, all the way to Barcelona El Prat (the airport). Yes, I lived in Barcelona for a month, but not nearly enough time to acquaint myself well enough with the whole city and its metro/train system. Luckily, I sat next to the sweetest lady in the whole entire world who kindly showed me the direction in which I needed to head to find my mother. So, here I was, lugging all of my belongings and waiting for the moment in which I saw my mothers beautifully, jet-lagged face. I waited.... and waited.... and waited..... And finally, it appeared after much distress that I somehow made a mistake and was waiting in the wrong terminal. Our reunion was followed by a little victory dance of excitement. My mother and I! Reunited at last! And so begins the epic tale:

SHANI AND SYDNEY TAKE SPAIN.

Once we arrived to the hostel, my mother decided she wanted to take a catnap before heading out and exploring. So I decided to wander a bit around the area I did know moderately well. It was so weird to be back in Barcelona. I was flooded with what memories I did have there such as being on the Ramblas with Catherine and Julia, meeting very attractive Norwegian boys (who bought us drinks) and so forth. Once I returned to the hostel, I woke up my mom so we could go eat some tapas. 

Her first tapas experience!

The next day, we visited La Sagrada Familia. La Sagrada Familia is a basilica and was designed by the modernist architect Gaudi. Let me just say, this unfinished masterpiece is large and in charge. It was amazing. We had to wait in line for about an hour in order to get inside. We were almost at the front of the line when this French couple decided to cut in line. Wisely enough, they decided to cut behind us and in front of the little Asian family. Of course the Asian family didn't say anything to the disrespectful couple. What does this have to do with my mom and me you ask? Well, my mother began to turn red. She was fuming. FUMING. I began talking to her and she interrupted me with "I'm sorry. I can't concentrate on what you're saying. I'm so angry about the French couple." This of course led to her turning around and giving the French couple dagger eyes. 

Once we neared the front of the line, the security guard asked how long we had been waiting in line for and we replied "about an hour." But then, my distracted and angry mother inserted "However, the people behind us skipped and I think that was VERY mean of them." Ahhh..... brings me back to kindergarten days. Granted, they were in the wrong. It turns out, the couple were pulled out of line, talked to by security guards and not allowed to enter. All I could think about was the fact that this couple could have been capable of anything-- murder by machete begin the first result to pop into my head. Luckily we did not run into this couple for the remainder of the trip. 

Next, we visited more of Gaudi's famous works around Barcelona, none of which were as impressive as La Sagrada Familia. The same night, my mother and I attended a Christmas concert at a famous concert hall which at the beginning, I was excited for. Because of this event, we thought it would be appropriate to dress nice. I mean, it was a Christams concert, but neither my mom or I had nice clothes with us. This resulted in a frantic shopping spree of tears and frustration (my mom wears a 6 1/2 and shoes and they don't sell half sizes here). Of course, being my mother and I, we were running late. So we ran to the theater in heels and dresses. Once we arrived, we discovered that people were wearing jeans and nice shirts, meaning our stressful shopping spree was really not necessary. 

At the concert there was an orchestra, an opera singer and dancers! Joy to the world! The experience was enjoyable overall, but after about an hour and 45 minutes it got a bit redundant. Then, you know, it kind of was a drag. Especially when there were around eight encores. EIGHT. Who in the world has ever had eight encores? I was hungry and displeased. 

The next stop was Toledo and Oropesa. My mom made it a point that she wanted to stay the night in a castle while she was in Spain. So we made reservations at this lovely parador located in Oropesa. In Toledo, we rented a car and hit the road. On our way, we managed to discover a castle off in the distance. And of course, we had to go find it and explore. We detoured for about 45 minutes until we finally arrived. It looked as if no one had been there for years. The inside was overflowing with bushes and shrubs and grass. We explored the crumbling corridors and interestingly enough found a dead pigeon. It was disgusting, but it didn't seem unusual. Pigeons die, right? Well, in another tower, we discovered a decaying dog. It started to get weird then. We concluded that this castle was now grounds for satanist meetings where they sacrificed a dog and pigeon and were probably waiting for unsuspecting adventure-seekers to sacrifice as well. So we left that castle pretty soon after that. 

Once we arrived to the parador, we had a night of luxury. The room was lovely, and the castle itself had so much history (none that I can remember... I'm sorry). The next day, we did some exploring around the towers of the castle and it was then that an interesting realization entered our minds. As we were basically crawling up the precarious and incredibly steep stairs, it hit us that this would NEVER be allowed in the United States. The states are so concerned with being sued and safety regulations whereas in Spain their like "You wanna go up crumbling, steep and possibly death causing stairs of a 14th century castle? SURE! THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER!" It was so much fun and made me appreciate Spain that much more. 

After Oropesa, we went back to Spain. It was my job to find the hostel that we were to stay in for the night until the next day, when we would pick up Michael (my mom's boyfriend) from the airport. Every single hostel I found was booked. Until finally I found one *insert angelic choir here*. I promptly made the reservation before some other traveler could steal it from us, and finally we were on our way. 

Once we got off the metro, the directions informed us that we had about a 20 minute walk until we got to the hostel. In my head, I imagined it wouldn't be bad because we would be seeing cool architecture and it would be a little adventure, even though I was carrying an extremely large bag on my back that felt more like a small child. And my mom.... my poor, poor mom was carrying her backpack as well as about two other bags that were ripping and falling apart. Little did we know that this was only the beginning. 

As we started walking, we got further and further away from homes and neighborhoods and closer to a highway. "Are you sure this is right?" my mom kept asking. I was using my google maps on my phone, my battery was slowly dwindling and I didn't have a lot of money left on my phone. All of this and we were hiking along a highway. I ended up calling the hostel to make sure we were headed in the right direction, and I was promptly reassured that we were in the right area of town. The right area of town meaning the industrial district of Madrid. The district where factories are located and there is no history or fun times or anything nearby. 

So we got to Hostel Welcome. Yeah, that was the name of the hostel. Hostel Welcome. It was..... how do I put this lightly? There really isn't any way to actually. So I will just put it in the eloquent words of another unsuspecting traveller who ended up in the misfortune my mom and I were in now: a half-way house for refugees. It resembled a YMCA. It was awful, especially after staying the night in a castle the previous night. Needless to say, the intended plans of going out in Madrid that night was a bust. 

...........TO BE CONTINUED..........