House Made of Windows

"...if you have an idea, you can find a way to make it." 

soul speak

I’ve got a ribbon in my eye

and it speaks truthfully of the soul

that lies beyond.

It’s holding my ocean at bay, merely

monitoring your ebb and flow.

It’s

cradling something capable

of explosion,

graceful detonation

into something mysterious.

But what do I know

of something I cannot see?

Even the reflections lie;

if left is right, then what

is wrong?

Play with the grains, toss them together

as you will

but hold yourself at a distance from me

just to remember that I am my own entity,

not simply your puzzle of whole pieces.

I am me without you-

without your hands.

So see me, I beg you, without you

and let the impressions left between the

lines of my

fingerprints

breathe on their own.

In, out, ebb, flow.

Pull the ribbon from my eye,

gently as to not disturb

the peace it keeps within the seas inside me,

gently,

so you see me outside my conscience.

Whisper, read it like a fortune, let it

dance in the wind while held

between your fingertips,

only if you trust them like they are the fibers

holding the circuit of your heart whole,

keeping the current

bringing air into your own blood.

Hold my soul

and name it not crimson or violet

let it simply

speak.

the person you're not

Get to know the person you're not. Invite him in. Let him take his shoes off. Respect him and hear his story. Listen. Let him finish his sentences.

You might not agree, but at least give yourself the chance to understand why. Give yourself the chance to see him for what you both have in common: your humanity.

on giving thanks

A child always looks forward to his or her birthday, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve realized how it’s not my birthday that I’m anticipating every November. It’s not a party, or cards or presents, or even the day, it’s the days that follow; it’s the season, it’s coming home, it’s the company, the comfort, the joy. One blessing I will never take for granted is how close my birthday is to Thanksgiving, and even more importantly, to the opening of the Advent season. It reminds me that it’s not about me, nor what I want, what I don’t have, what I ask for, but about what blessings I have and what love I have unremittingly been given. This year was different, because I’m in Spain, and for the first time in my life I celebrated my birthday and Thanksgiving away from close family and friends, not to mention, on another continent. Yet despite how much I was going to miss being home at a time like Thanksgiving, the sentiment had not changed, but rather, had been exceptionally accentuated in a way that I will never forget.

My birthday gift this year did not come in a box; it stepped off a train in Madrid two days before. My parents planned to visit me as soon as they knew I’d be here for my birthday, because they are adamant about sticking to their goal of being with my brothers and I on each of our birthdays until we’re 21. But their visit was more than a gift, because it not only reminded me how important they are in my life, and how fortunate I am to have them, but throughout the weekend I was also reminded of how fortunate I am to be in Spain with such a caring family and such an incredible experience.

Here I’m at home. I wear my slippers and sweatpants and can take a siesta on the couch with the dogs, I’m here for family meals and meet guests when they come to visit. My Spanish parents care for me as they do their own daughters, and from day one I've felt like one of the family. I hang out with the girls, go out with them from time to time, and we have our own inside jokes. They call me their hermanita and whenever someone new asks how long I am staying in Spain, the girls always interject before I can answer and say I’m actually not leaving. I had been anticipating my parents’ arrival not only to see them, but also to show them what I consider to be the most important and influential part of my experience here: my Spanish family.

When at last I greeted my parents and began to show them my new life here, I could hardly contain myself. Being able to indicate each aspect that contributed to my Spanish life just reminded me of how much I really have here, and how much of a home Alcalá has really become over the past three months. Their first evening here, I showed them my academic buildings, the plaza, pointed out cafes we frequently visit, and even brought them to our favorite shop to get dried fruit and nuts. We stopped at the cathedral and walked my daily walk home just as it started to rain, to be welcomed warmly by my Spanish family who was anxiously waiting our arrival with wine and empanadas.

Despite how little my parents spoke Spanish, and how little my host parents spoke English, they were surprisingly good at communicating with each other, and a few times I didn’t even have to translate. Luckily no one was too shy to throw some expression into the mix, because it made communication easier, and of course a lot more amusing. My Spanish parents are incessantly hospitable, and kept encouraging more food onto my parents’ plates, to which they could hardly resist. So many stories and traditions were shared, and I could see the language barrier being dissolved with hardly any effort. My Spanish parents even affirmed to my parents that if they were to ever come back to Spain, they had a home here, and of course my parents offered the same, as many times the girls have mentioned how they want to come to the states someday.

The conversation continued from the table to the sofas, where my parents gifted three of our Christmas ornaments to them. As my mom had me translate, they were “from our tree to [theirs],” each of which held a special significance or memory that I helped communicate, and by the end we were all hugging each other and exchanging tear-filled smiles of thanks. It didn’t take long before the overwhelming gratitude turned to uncontainable joy, and without hesitation, out came the guitars. Before I knew it we were singing songs we all knew, a trend that continued after dinner the two nights that followed. My Spanish parents were joyed at being able to host my birthday dinner, and after a rainy but enjoyable birthday day showing my parents around Madrid, and yet another fantastic meal of which my Spanish family was eager to take part, my Spanish mom made sure to have my mom carry out the birthday cake with her, a moment I will never forget. Even through all my interchanging of conversation between languages, it was in those moments that I couldn’t find words. To see such interactions put everything into place, why I am here, how far I’ve come, and overall, how grateful I should be for each of these blessings. My heart was more content than it had been all semester.

This weekend was my Thanksgiving, and one that I will probably cherish and hold close for the rest of my life. It was the presence, the warmth the spirit, the laughter, the humor, the expression. The time spent together and interacting was not inhibited by the lack of a communal language, nor culture, nor was it discouraged by unfamiliarity. We found unity through one another’s presence and stories, through shared traditions and curiosity; this weekend we were one family.

Nothing will replace my memory of having the family sing a traditional Spanish happy birthday song to me with guitars and words from the heart. Nothing will compare to hearing the laughter of my parents among the laughter of my host parents. Nothing will ever take the place of those nights, those overwhelming feelings of joy and relief, of togetherness and belonging, in a place we never imagined. I will never forget those moments, those conversations that were, while at times half-understood, wholly felt and appreciated. Nothing will ever compare.

paris: a european gem

When things go right, it makes me feel oddly suspicious. You’d think if events go as planned, or even better, go well without a plan at all, that would be excellent, and while it definitely is, it’s something to which I am completely unaccustomed. The three blissful days spent meandering through Paris were surreal to say the least, and to this day I still feel like it really didn’t happen. Paris is not a city I ever pictured myself visiting in my lifetime. To me it was always a fairytale, equivalent to some far-off land of Disney splendor where magic and color and song are the main principles of society. It’s not that I never wanted to go there, I just never imagined it probable, or even possible. That being said, at the suggestion to go to Paris after London I merely agreed with a shrug, saying well of course I’d love to go to Paris, I mean, it’s Paris (much later I would wonder what was wrong with my earlier self for not thinking of it sooner).

The adventure began at the airport, where after some “international” cellphone confusion, we had to buy tickets to get on the last metro for the night, but before we could finish panicking about the machines not taking bills, someone started whistling with a sport whistle and yelling interchangeably between French and English to the entire wing that the last metro into the city was arriving and that moment, and that it was free, so we were more or less ushered to go through the open gates ticket-less with the hope that we wouldn’t get stopped for something so bizarre.

Of course what did we see when emerging from our unrealistic metro ride but Arc de Triomphe, glowing boldly in the center of the circle where cabs, cars and bicycles swirled in and out and around it in a seemingly synchronized fashion.

At that moment, I lost my sense of fatigue, and my permanent state of Parisian awe had settled right then and there for the rest of the weekend. When we arrived at my friend’s friend’s apartment, as he has been studying in Paris also through Loyola this semester, I couldn’t believe the view, as of course he had a balcony facing the Eiffel Tower. We walked around the neighborhood with him and one of his friends, sat at a café for a while and ended up returning thinking we should rest before the long day that would follow, only to stay up until 5am talking and laughing, practically drunk from glee and the exhaustion that we seemed to have ignored.

After a rewarding night’s sleep and a fantastic breakfast, we started off our day with a view from the top of Arc de Triomphe and continued our day with a pace similar to which we took in London, but by some magic it felt like a much more leisurely tour. We could not have asked for better weather, for as it was a surprise to see so much sun in London, it seemed to have followed us to Paris. Along our way our first day, we walked down Avenue des Champ Élysées, stopped at Opera Garnier, Galerie Lafayette, L'église de la Madeliene and Basilique du Sacré-Coeur.

Based on the number of cathedrals I’ve visited since August, I could probably write a book just explaining the histories and significance from one to the next. However, of all the cathedrals I’ve entered in Europe, I have to say that Sacre Couer is my favorite thus far. While certain aspects of cathedrals are similar, each has elements that contribute to create a distinct atmosphere, although sometimes those elements are the most difficult to distinguish. After a hike up the hill and through the crowd and street performers in front of the cathedral steps, we reached Sacre Couer, mounted overlooking the city. The first minute upon entering, my sense of present tense evaporated. The high rounded ceilings allowed for the voices of the choir of nuns to echo graciously throughout the cathedral, creating a profound tranquility that put the rest of the city and my travels completely and involuntarily out of my mind. The entire interior was soft and bright and welcoming, in comparison to the darker, more Gothic demeanor of other cathedrals we had seen. I was stunned by a very real sense of reverence, and couldn’t believe how close I was to tears; for what reason, I couldn’t say, but I definitely felt a peaceful presence that urged me to sit for a while at the very least. Only hunger and our agenda moved me forward, but it was surely a moment I am not soon to forget.

Earlier in the day we had decided to save the Eiffel Tower for last, incredible as we imagined it would be. And effectively, to walk under the tower and onto Parc du Champ de Mars at night right before it began to sparkle on the hour was breathtaking as anticipated. Followed by crepes and a subway ride back, we were ready to rest before our morning at the Louvre, where we spent a good half of our day meandering through the extensive exhibits, in no way able to soak up everything. After a visit at Notre Dame and a stroll through the Latin Quarter and the gardens at Palais et Jardin Du Luexenbourg, we made sure to see the Eiffel Tower one more time at sunset, to end our trip right.

[slideshow]

As surreal as it felt to be in London, Paris was magical in a whole other realm. It’s a place I never wanted to dream of, because dreaming would seemingly gray in comparison. It was the perfect splash of color for which I yearned but never sought when initially planning my semester abroad, but in a way that made it so much more of an escapade. Had I had the time to explore everything and experience everything thoroughly, I would, but it was nice to at least have a snapshot adventure in London and Paris and to visit places I never really though I would get to see in person ever in my life. Half of the places we visited I couldn’t actually believe, most if it felt like such a surreal and intangible experience that I didn’t even feel like I was really a part of it, as if I was merely viewing someone else’s memory or account of having been there. Never had I imagined myself standing in at the foot of Big Ben or the Eiffel Tower, strolling through the Louvre, outside of Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre or on top of Arc de Triomphe and Tower Bridge. Europe?! I’m in Europe!

since I've been gone:

First and foremost, an apology for the dry spell, as it probably appears that I have frolicked into Spain and abandoned my blog completely. Well, this is half-true. I've been frolicking, but I had no intention of keeping my experiences to myself! Three-ish weeks ago, my hard drive failed, causing me mild panic and a lot of stress, seeing as my laptop is my main source of communication and doing work for school while abroad, and the only way I could really find out what could be done or relay my issue to anyone who could help me was in Spanish. Luckily, after a week of researching and worrying and communicating with my program director and the help of my father, I was able to go with her student assistant, Maria, who speaks a fair amount of English to an Apple store in Madrid, and she helped me explain the problem to them, but more importantly she helped me understand what the policies were and what they were going to do with it. Special thanks to my still applicable AppleCare, Maria, my dad and some generous people at Apple, I now have my computer back with a functioning hard drive, a new keypad and my old hard drive so that I can try to have my old info extracted elsewhere. Good deal considering all the effort it took to get here!

While I am dumping my life from the past month back onto my computer, in words and images, it'll take a few days before I get another post up, but if you have interest, a piece of work I had submitted to Pictory, an online captioned photo magazine that I love, was published in their latest showcase.

To view it simply go to http://www.pictorymag.com/ and view the showcase titled Love Without Language, and my pictory (picture-story) is number 17 if you scroll through! I highly recommend viewing the other showcases, too; they're magnificent and I find the whole concept of the site to be so innovative and packed with creativity.

  

 

Since I've been gone, I've traveled to London, Paris, Barcelona and Toledo and begun my full semester.

Things are picking up pace, and as of three days ago, we've been here an entire two months already. Hard to believe, and I think the next two will only fly by faster. Since I've been gone, I've re-learned that patience is a virtue, and that although at times I may feel lost, I'm never alone. I've also learned to believe my own words, in finding the benefit in living simply.

More pictures and adventure details to follow! I promise :]

enamorarse de la vida en el extranjero

¡Bienvenidos a Alcalá de Henares, España, my new hometown for the semester! One week in and I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I'm on the other side of the Atlantic. Brief bio: Alcalá de Henares is a small city about an hour or less east of Madrid, where Spanish writer Cervantes lived (best known for his novel Don Quijote), and also where Ignatius of Loyola had studied. Historical fun facts, booyah. The most central part of the city includes the Plaza de Cervantes on Calle Mayor where there are many shops and restaurants, including taparías and panerías, and also where most of the buildings for the University of Alcalá de Henares are located. Most of my studies will take place at Alcalingua, the language institute of the University. The city is clearly very old, but it's adorable in its antiquity. I love the colors and the architecture and feel of the town, so far I love it here!

Towards the end of summer, I had been growing increasingly nervous and anxious about my arrival and the adjustment process, and being able to communicate clearly in a language I hadn't practiced for months. And after a stressful stretch of days spent packing and last minute shopping and counting down the minutes left with family and friends, I was more or less freaking out by the time we stepped onto the plane. There's no doubt about it, when we arrived in Spain we dove right into the culture, but there are still many moments where it all feels so surreal. However, it's been nothing short of amazing so far, and I'm running out of adequate synonyms for the damn adjective. After a sleepy bizarre day one, and an active and invigorating day two, I knew I had made one of the best decisions of my life.

Home life

The family I am staying with this semester is wonderful. My host parents are generous and patient, and are willing to explain things and clue me in when I'm lost, which I am extremely grateful for seeing as that occurs multiple times a conversation (but I'm getting better! :]) There are few moments when they are not laughing or smiling about something, making it a very happy environment, por ejemplo, today my host father was singing as he was putting away groceries. While they both love to ask me questions and hear about how things are in the states, I probably talk with my host mom the most. She is so sweet, and I can tell she loves being able to share their traditions and their culture with me. Their home is a cozy townhouse in a little complex with a community pool, and it's quite lovely. They both participate in cooking meals, and I'm not exaggerating when I say that I've enjoyed everything I've eaten here thus far, even the spinach and tuna lasagna (cue my parents' shock). Weird, right? I don't know how, I really don't. Jamón (ham) and pescado (seafood) are common main dish features, but there is so much variety that so far I haven't felt any redundancy in meals. I'm sure that having ham in everything here is comparable to having chicken in everything in the states, I mean, let's be real, how many various recipes do you know that involve chicken? I've never tried so many different things in one week, and never imagined I would enjoy all of it this much!

My host "sisters," ages 18 and 21, are also very kind and patient, and I've really enjoyed their company while at the house. From the beginning we've been able to joke and laugh and find interests that we share. The older daughter and I like a lot of the same bands, and I'm finding that the younger daughter and I think a lot alike, making it easy to be myself and goof around, especially when I can only partially communicate what I'm thinking as it is! They've willingly driven me places, escorted me to the main plaza and around town at night and included me to hang out with their friends by their community pool. And while I try and participate here and there in conversation, even just sitting and listening has helped me adapt a bit more.

I've spent at least two afternoons talking to the kids by the pool, where even the younger kids hang out with the older ones, all joking around and jumping on each other as kids on any neighborhood block would. They have been there every day when I walk home from the plaza, so it's no surprise to me how close they all are, regardless of age. The boys get a kick out of spitting out English phrases and I've enjoyed interpreting lyrics from American songs. They listen to a surprising amount of American music and watch so many American movies, I had no idea! It's just so interesting to interact with them, because much of it really feels the same, just in another language. Each day with them is like another puzzle, because I don't know everything yet, but that's what makes it so curious. I feel extremely fortunate to be living with girls my age who are willing to share their lives and their home with me, but also to be a friend towards me as well. I'm sure my experience would have been drastically different without a full family, seeing as I've been talking much more at the house than I would have if I didn't have "siblings" around.

Then there's the pets! Their two dogs, Britney and Mick Jagger are the cutest little Malteses I've ever seen. God knows I'm gonna miss my little white dog, so how fortunate I am to have two new furry friends here! Yesterday I walked them with my host mom and they kept stopping each time we passed through shade, it was quite humorous. And like Riley, they do tricks too! It's so cute to see them respond to things in Spanish. I'm still getting used to the cat factor, seeing as there are three of them and two of the three (Milou mostly, and Magu, who is blind) tend to appear on my bed a second after I open my door (the third is named Glen, but he tends to stay outside). And with cats comes hair, and well, it's everywhere already, including my keyboard..? * vigorously sweeps computer* ew. But I'm not really complaining cause they really are adorable. It just means I have to be more conscious of my open door. Needless to say, in this house, it's definitely the more the merrier, so I'm blessed to be in good company, animals and all!

Yesterday the family included me in their plans to visit their grandmother for her 76th birthday, which was really kind of them, because they certainly aren't expected to. She lives on the other side of Alcalá, and on the way over, my host mom explained the dynamic and a bit about my host father's sisters, and that they usually only go to their mother's small apartment twice a year for her birthday and el Día de los Reyes Magos on January 6 (day of the Magi Kings, which is kind of like their separate day for Christmas morning, but the Kings deliver gifts instead of Santa). As soon as we got there, I was welcomed and encouraged to feel at home. We spent most of the afternoon eating and talking, although many parts of the conversation I could still only half understand. The quieter I was, the more I was pressured to come mas! (eat more haha) But their aunts were so nice and they all included me in the conversation as much as they could and were patient enough to let me speak and participate. I enjoyed the entire afternoon, and much of their interactions reminded me of my own family.

One of the traditions they have when gathering in early September is designating "secret Santas" although I forgot the name they actually called it once they were trying to explain it to me. After writing down everyone's names, kids and adults alike, and put them in a cup to choose one person for whom they must make a gift for el Día de los Reyes Magos. They do this instead of buying expensive gifts for everyone, and in doing this the gifts are much more meaningful. They had me participate by passing around the cup from person to person, and we were all amused because it took so many tries before everyone selected one without someone choosing their own name.

One moment that particularly struck me from the day: one of my host father's sisters had made a few CDs for their other sister, and she wanted to play some of the songs for her as we were all sitting together. Lo and behold, the first song she turns on is one of my favorite songs by Sia, and happens to be my ringtone. I was then able to share with them that Sia was one of my favorite artists, to which their aunt was joyed to know that I liked her as much as she did. It was not an extreme coincidence, although very few of my friends at home know of Sia, but I felt equally shocked and relieved. Weird as this sounds, it felt like another reassurance that I'm not alone here, and that any familiarities in a place that is so foreign to me are a blessing. Little unities make a big difference. It's so nice to feel comfortable and be in company of a family that treats me as so when I'm so far from my own.

Week One Observations

Some of the most notable things so far regarding Spanish lifestyle are how meals and the seasonal weather seem to influence the schedule structure. Each meal is important, and usually invites the family together. Saying that seems bizarre, since in the good ol' U.S. we push ourselves regardless of whether we "have time" to eat and regardless of the season (But then again, I don't feel like getting into all the things that don't work in America, I'll save that blog for another lifetime). But it's true, that instead of taking the time to sit down, unwind, eat a meal and detach ourselves, we remain constantly plagued by "work." Even when we try and get away, it lingers in the back of our minds, and sometimes we even feel guilty taking the time to make ourselves sane.

But here, everything closes in the afternoon around 2, and the streets become increasingly silent and empty as everyone departs for home (or for lunch out elsewhere). Lunch itself lasts close to two or three hours, depending on whether you nap or not, and it involves cooking a full meal, sitting down at the table with your family, going for a walk, or simply resting. And then it's back to work until about 8 or so, because dinner won't be needed until closer to 9-9:30! And if there is any recreational event, it occurs late into the night following dinner around 11! The week that we arrived, for example, was the week of La Feria (the fair) that annually occurs in August in Alcalá . From 10pm - ? the streets and main plazas were packed with teens and families with young children and older couples, eating at sidewalk tables or listening to the concert in the square, and this schedule is typical of most weekends in summer. But, it's practical, particularly with the heat of summer, to go home and rest at the hottest point of the day, and to go out late when the temperature is much cooler and more enjoyable. It's astounding to see the contrast in livelihood between 3 in the afternoon and 1 in the morning here.

And then there's the sleep pattern! One would wonder, if they don't finish dinner until 11:30, how do they get up for work in the morning?! Well, simple. Because they separate their home life from their work life twice a day, the second time for the night. I honestly believe it's the detachment at the end of the day that makes it possible to feel more relaxed, regardless of how many hours of sleep you actually get. And the more relaxed you are off the job, I can only imagine how much more productive those hours spent actually working would be. Mind you, I'm not speaking from experience, but I'm getting the sense that the Spaniards (and possibly many other Europeans that follow the siesta lifestyle) have it figured out. It's not that stress doesn't exist in Spain, it's not some magical time zone where everything's easy and pleasant–no. But they do have the right idea when it comes to establishing a lifestyle that helps manage it and comfortably balances "work and play."

The climate itself is also noteworthy, especially the fact that the screen-less window in my room has been open since before I arrived, and I haven't had reason to close it since. The doors and windows in the house are often just kept open for the breeze, and as far as I know we haven't used the air conditioning much since I've been here. The air where we are in Spain is dry, and not very humid, and for that reason only when I'm in the sun is it really hot, and in the mornings and evenings the air is significantly cooler. This means that when it's winter, the air is going to be veryyy dry and cold, but I don't want to think about that yet!

Classes

In total, I will be taking six courses this semester, but luckily for the month of September we only have one at the language institute of the university from Monday to Friday and another with our director on Tuesdays and Thursdays which continues into the semester. The other four will begin in October, as the first one ends, including a contemporary Spanish theatre literature course that is taught at the university itself, with Spanish students (yikes!), but it seems strategically planned, and although it will get gradually more difficult, speaking in general is bound to get gradually less taxing, so it should all work out somehow. The bonus to staying in Alcalá is that we learn so much outside of the classroom, just being with Spanish families and talking and eating with them has made such a difference in adjusting and understanding the culture more.

On Friday we had our first intensive language class, and after being placed in what seems to be an intermediate level, so far it feels fitting. One of the questions we were asked after introducing ourselves and explaining why we wanted to study Spanish, our teacher prompted us to share objectives that we had by studying Spanish in Spain, to which I answered that I would like to eventually dream in Spanish. Once my subconscious mind figures out the whole think in Spanish without thinking first in English thing, that must mean my conscious mind will finally be getting somewhere with it also. Right away she said I would be able to within three or four weeks, so I'm hoping this to be true! I might even shoot for writing a few poems in Spanish along the way, we shall see ;]

Along the way I will be updating about specific trips/adventures/places we explore or encounter, seeing as this first post is enough of a novel as it is. Read further and stay tuned to learn about my experiences and observations from the start of my exciting experience studying and living in Alcalá! Coming soon: updates on our trips to Madrid and Asturias! :]

That's all for now folks, hasta luego!