Goodbye just means we're closer to the next hello

            It’s never easy to say goodbye. Just ask Chuck Noland about it. Remember in Cast Away when he parted ways with his best friend Wilson? That’s why I’m not going to say it. Instead, it will be “until our next hello” to all my new friends, to my host mom, to Granada.

            I’m four months older now and over this time, I’ve experienced tremendous personal growth. Plumper, yes I am, but I’m talking about a different kind of growth: in developing a worldview, in discovering who I am, in trying new things, in defining myself. Am I completely fluent in Spanish now? Probably not. Has everything worked out how I had hoped? Nope. But in measuring success, it’s more important to evaluate yourself not just on where you are now, but on where you are now in relation to where you started. After all, Rudy wouldn’t be an inspiring movie if his success were based only in his playing 27 seconds after practicing for four years.  

            This, of course, brings me back to January. It was a time when my comfort with familiarity was broken. I stepped out of my routine, and my beloved country for that matter, to embark on a journey, whose fate I knew not. Coming as a stranger in a strange land did not exactly make for an easy arrival for me. Since then, I’ve been thrown into uncomfortable situations, made plenty of mistakes, and sometimes wondered why I was here. But those are the pains that are part of growing. Attaining anything great cannot be done without effort along the way. Putting yourself in the ring, to be marred with sweat and knocked to your knees, is the only way to achieve anything worth having, to bridge the divide between reality and your dreams. After all, you can’t ever win if you’re always standing on the sidelines. Winning is something I’ve enjoyed a lot of here. Going out with friends. Learning new subjects in class. Traveling to different countries. And, of course, I’m never happier than when in the midst of my afternoon siesta. I've learned that sometimes, you don't even have to know what you're looking for to find something that makes you happy.

            Alas, in leaving, I will miss most the people with whom I’ve shared these four months. The places I’ve been will surely outlast me, but never again will I have an experience like this with the people I did. I know that tonight’s the last time I will ever get fro-yo with Elizabeth and Megan. Tuesday was my last time going to the club with Alex and Erika and Anna. Tomorrow will be the last time I ever sit in a classroom with Colleen and Jack, Sam and Jason. We’ll stay in touch over facebook, I’m sure of that, but what I am losing is something that took four months to gain. We’ll all go home, experience the joys of reuniting with our families and friends and work our way back into that familiar routine we left in January. But, we won’t be quite the same. We’ll be carrying something extra with us—something so grand, packed deep inside, that I will most certainly not tell Delta about it for fear they will charge me extra to board the plane on Saturday. Those nights enjoying ourselves under the backdrop of the Alhambra, the moments in econ when Spanish got the best of me, the Saturday mornings searching for deals at the gypsy market…
             Tomorrow, when I board a bus leaving Granada by myself to begin my trek home, I’ll remember that timeless line from It’s a Wonderful life when Clarence says to George, “Strange, isn't it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?” To all who have come into my life in these past four months, thank you for the memories and thank you for your friendship. I am who I am today in part because of you. You have touched my life, molding me into something a little different than I was four months ago. In this way, I know that I will not be by myself tomorrow or any day for you will always be around me.

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Four Months of Favorites:

Favorite quote:

“Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

Favorite Food:

nutella-bannana crepe in France

Kitty’s gnocchi dish

Favorite Class:

Economics with Prof. Cuenca

Favorite Purchase:

Diamond encrusted Dollar-bill Belt

Favorite Country:

USA

Favorite Place Visited:

Rome

Most important to many of the fond memories I have are the people who are in them. This is what made, for example, Lagos such an awesome trip. However, Rome is a place that was incredible by itself and definitely a city I would love to revisit.

Until next time, whenever that might be, may you grow only healthier and happier in your life.

P.S. Mom, leave the light on; I’m coming home!

Not That I Loved Granada Less, But That I Loved Rome More

            Recalling the glory days of my high school track career, I remember that the final stretch of any race is the most exciting. In the 400, the measure of success was the last 100 meters, not the first. Success for me meant only that my 245 pound self would cross the finish line…even if those last 100 meters consisted of my smiling and waving to the crowds in the stands while the timers had to trade in their watches for calendars! Well here I am—less than one month left in my four-month journey abroad. At times, I’ve sprinted ahead, never wanting to look back. At other times, I’ve fallen behind, feeling overwhelmed by new cultures, tired from traveling, or disappointed in missed-opportunities. By May 29^th, though, whether I’m in front, at the back, or somewhere in the middle, I only hope that my face will be smiling and my hand waving.

             After five days of crepes, baguettes, and funny hats in Paris and then five more of shamrocks, cliffs, and potatoes in Ireland, I returned back to Granada—a little more cultured and a little less fluent in Spanish—for four days of classes, before departing on yet another adventure. This time, it would be to the land of gladiators, Olive Gardens, and amore: Rome. This past Saturday night, we (a group of three) arrived in Rome. Our first stop: an easy-to-miss pizzeria. Second stop: bed. Sunday, I made my way to the Vatican at 6:30 A.M. to witness the beatification of Pope John Paul II only to find that 1,000,000 others had beat me there. Shoulder to shoulder with others in the crowd, I occupied my place in the back. Afterwards, I would learn my way around Rome—the buses were not running, so I enjoyed an hour-long walk back to the hostel. Walking was the theme to our Sunday in Rome. We walked to the Pantheon, the Spanish steps, the twin churches, almost the entire area of the city.

            On Monday, we spent the majority of the morning and afternoon in the ruins of the Forum and then the Coliseum. Seeing Caesar’s grave, excavations from before Christ, a stadium used for more than 1,000 years, was a lot to digest even for somebody with an appetite as large as mine for history. So, to help, I thought pizza might be the answer. Over the course of these four days, pizza, pasta, and gelato became my diet, and something that I could have gotten very used to! As the rain pounded down, we finished our night eating gelato protected by the roof of the Pantheon.

            Tuesday started out with a mini Viola reunion. I met my cousin Silvia for breakfast and learned a little more about my family. I am already counting down the days until the next trip to Rome to meet even more cousins! Afterwards, it was back to the Vatican: to tour St. Peter’s Basilica and the Sistine Chapel. Still on a siesta schedule, we took our nap during the mid-afternoon before heading to dinner. Dinner was delicious, but left too little time to spend with our other friends in Rome later that night—to celebrate a birthday! Amid the celebration, I realized that this was probably the last time I would see these friends, which put a damper on my spirit, a foreboding of things to come at the end of this month when I will have to relive that experience.

            On Wednesday, after attending mass with Pope Benedict XVI, our time in Rome, as quickly as it started, was already over. Now, back in Granada, I think about the remaining three weeks I have. Three weeks of meals with Kitty; three weeks of Spanish; three weeks of watching PasaPalabra. Three weeks really isn’t that long. In my last post, I mentioned wanting to find a pause button. Over the past day, I thought now the search should focus on finding rewind—to relive the disproportionate amount of happy moments while redoing those times that haven’t worked out as I had hoped. Now, though, I am content with play. I’m ready to face what’s left; to accept that worrying too much about the future just takes time away from the present; that if something is meant to be, then it will find a way of happening; that what’s important is not being stuck in the past or fixated on a specific moment, but rather, growing personally as a result of the good and the bad to make a better tomorrow. In these last three weeks, it’s not the three months that have passed that will be the focus, but each of the 22 days I still have to go. After all, it’s the end of the race that I need to be focusing on; how I finish is what matters now.

Until next time, may you grow only healthier and happier in your life.

Searching for a pause button because life is just that good right now...

           In his infinite wisdom, Forrest Gump once commented, “Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get.” Never has that adage rung truer than in describing my own life over the past three months in Spain. Fearing my first big bite might be the dreaded coconut-filled chocolate, I was nervous, to say the least. Now, the box nears empty, holding the last few pieces—a trip to Paris and Dublin next week, one to Rome the week after, and a month left in Granada—of what has been the sweetest of treats. It’s been a long time since the last update to the blog. I closed last time wishing you to grow only healthier and happier until next time. I hope you have; I certainly did.

            Last month, I traveled to Morocco and after having spent five days there, I’ve returned to Spain viewing the world a little differently. For all the rhetoric we hear in the news about the Arab world, I learned that firstly, we can’t group an entire peoples as all speaking with the same voice, and secondly, the vast majority are people who have the same hopes and dreams as you or I have. I lived with a family in Rabat and even though they spoke Arabic while I speak English, they were Muslim while I am Catholic, I could see my own family in theirs. The love the parents had for their children. The father who worked the night shift like my dad always did. The mom who hiked her husky son’s pants up to his neck the same way my mom did to me in my plumper days. Just sitting in the family room watching “Arabs’ Got Talent” reminded me of being at home.

            This past weekend, I went on a whim to Lagos, Portugal. A week before leaving, I bought my ticket and hoped that I was making a good choice. Something about the entire trip, from the boat cruise and enjoying the view at the “edge of the world” to just sitting quietly on the cliffs at the beach, provided an experience of joy and growth that I can’t quite describe. Although it might be hard to believe to those who know me (or listen to me talk, and talk) I struggle with shyness, sometimes. Despite this, I made a few new friends who I hope won’t forget me as time separates us from our weekend together; I’ll certainly always keep them with me.

            I’ve added pictures from the weekend in Portugal so that you can see for yourself why I enjoyed it so. It’s fitting to close with another line from Forrest Gump because with all the traveling and the people I’m meeting, it’s easy to wonder what’s really going on above. Forrest said, “I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I, I think maybe it's both. Maybe both is happening at the same time.” I tend to agree.

Until next time, may you grow only healthier and happier in your life. . . . “That's all I have to say about that.”

A Month in Review

Holy Toledo! A Weekend in the CAPITAL

           The suitcase once again sits empty on the floor and the camera rests on the shelf. But now, after returning from a trip to Madrid and a trip to Toledo, I make a final trip, to the computer, to unpack the last of my belongings—the memories from the weekend that was. The journey started with my rising before the sun on Friday morning and boarding a bus for Madrid. Five hours later, I stepped out into Spain’s capital.

            Walking into Plaza Mayor brought me right into the movie “Vantage Point,” which I was almost certain took place there. Upon further research, I discovered that it was actually shot in Salamanca, Spain. No wonder why I didn’t see Dennis Quaid.  Nevertheless, Plaza Mayor seemed like quite a “hoppin’ ” place. The next time I visited, to my surprise and that of my friends, a stunt-man climbed the light pole beneath which we were eating dinner. Luckily for us, he seemed to have practiced the stunt before!

            Once I walked out of Plaza Mayor, my imagination moved from the movies to conjuring up memories of Disney World as I entered Plaza Puerta del Sol.  There were Mickeys and Minnies, Chubakas, and plenty of Spongebob and Patricks.  Instead of water, the Spongebob with whom I decided to have my picture taken preferred to absorb money! After the picture he held out his hand. He was not interested in a high-five. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a 50 “centimos” piece and gave it to him.  As I was fleeing the scene, like a 4-year-old who got caught at the cookie jar before dinner, I couldn’t help but notice an angry Patrick holding his hands up—but still with a smile on his face of course!   

               After a walking tour of the city, our next stop was in Toledo, just 50 minutes away. I enjoyed the scene of a setting sun on the ride, which actually could symbolize the difference between the two cities: night and day. The modernity of Madrid contrasted dramatically with the character of Toledo. The latter, a well-preserved historic city, was once home to a culture of tolerance between Muslims, Jews, and Christians. It is so well preserved in fact, that UNESCO declared it a World Heritage Site. There, I saw the alcázar (the building that housed the governor), beautiful bridges, quaint streets, and signposts for the route of Don Quixote. Every store I passed sold swords or knives or marzipan, or a combination of all three! After passing the day in Toledo, I once again boarded the bus and headed back to Madrid, where I enjoyed the nightlife with friends and realized that it is much less expensive for a student to live in Granada!

            My final day in Madrid started with a tour of Palacio Real, which once was home to the Royal family and now is used for state functions. We weren’t allowed to take pictures, so you’ll have to trust me when I say the inside was ornate. After this tour, it was on to the Reina Sofia Museum, which features modern art. In a museum full of Picasso and Dali, I found one exhibit to be even more powerful. In this room hung upwards of 200 front-pages of the September 12, 2001 edition of newspapers from around the world.  On every one, of course, were the gut-wrenching images of the burning World Trade Center and the Pentagon. No matter how many times I see pictures from that day, I can’t help but in my mind return to Mrs. McNamara’s 5^th grade classroom at Dyer School—wondering who would want to cancel recess and asking why Mrs. McNamara looked so sad and shocked. At the same time, I could not have felt more patriotic. Although we will always remember what happened on 9/11, I fear that as time separates us further from that tragic day, we will lose that emotional connection—the sadness for the victims, the pride of being an American. That sentiment from the international community following 9/11, that “we are all Americans,” seemed alive in this exhibit. To close the day, I headed to the Prado Museum, home to masterpieces by artistic greats such as Rafael, Dürer, Goya, Rosales, Velázquez, Greco, and Rembrandt. This, too, was a place where pictures were prohibited from being taken. Seeing artwork that I had previously only seen in pictures online or in books was stirring, if not a bit surreal. 

            Back home in Granada, I’ve realized how well I’ve adapted to the culture thus far (the siesta has been my quickest adjustment of them all!). Who knows, maybe someday I’ll be lucky enough to return as ambassador—just a stop on the way to the White House, of course! To close this post, and also to continue my unusual allusions to fictional characters, in the words of Porky Pig, “That’s all folks!”

Until next time, may you grow only healthier and happier in your life.