tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65631599390558192552024-03-18T04:04:22.040+01:00AlisabroadThe purpose of this blog is to tell faithfully of my adventures living in France, Spain, and the USA, as well as around Europe and anywhere else in the world I happen to go!Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.comBlogger118125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-63284751401636179742018-01-21T23:45:00.001+01:002018-09-26T22:23:15.361+02:002017 in Travel (A Roundup Post)<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Ah, a roundup of my 2017. In mid-January 2018.</div>
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Only 3 weeks late, that's fine, right? I mean, if it's fine for me then I guess it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. I tend to do things on my own timeline (still haven't gotten around to New Years Resolutions yet either...it'll happen eventually). And that's okay! </div>
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So anyway, *I* want to remember what 2017 was like for myself before I grow old and forget what my youth was like, so here goes. </div>
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Overall, I'd say it was a year that was I was expecting to be calm, and then it took me completely by surprise in both good and very very bad ways. I hate to complain and say that it was a bad year because in the end, it was a time of incredible personal growth and change. But yes, there were some low points mid-year the depths of which I had never imagined before I experienced them. Were these things ultimately my own responsibility? Yes, of course. Was it completely on me to make the necessary changes to better myself and my life? Yes. Buuuuuuut did it kind of suck along the way? Just a bit.</div>
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Have I piqued your interest yet? No? Oh well, here goes anyway. </div>
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January</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbBG-irJrNPi4LxhotnXKxcjVu4fpmzCSTSqYpogCcWmkEv7NELOy-yDxjAws8nGH6H1MoCSXyBDDrp8gOLq-ElDIcJNHAx0bOsZlmcZmnwBDI-ST-HV8IO2K7vsSf1UmV71bMcTIFzx6/s1600/DSC_0473.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1235" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbBG-irJrNPi4LxhotnXKxcjVu4fpmzCSTSqYpogCcWmkEv7NELOy-yDxjAws8nGH6H1MoCSXyBDDrp8gOLq-ElDIcJNHAx0bOsZlmcZmnwBDI-ST-HV8IO2K7vsSf1UmV71bMcTIFzx6/s320/DSC_0473.jpg" width="246" /></a></div>
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I started off January 2017 by taking a trip to NYC with my mom. I'd been before as a kid but I didn't feel I had a real sense of arguably the world's most famous city. This trip completely reaffirmed my gut feeling, which was that New York is a fun place to visit very occasionally, but I would never ever want to spend a lot of time there. I just don't get a good vibe from the place, and that's enough for me! However, I did spend my 28th birthday seeing Nathan Lane, John Goodman, John Slattery (etc.) in a play called "The Front Page" on Broadway, which was an awesome experience.</div>
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A little later in January, I went up to Madison to take my mom and eldest nephew to the Women's March there. While I'm very aware of the extreme privilege we had as middle-class white people in being able to state our opinions on the government with little chance of recourse, I found it a cool experience to know I was taking part in worldwide civic action. I enjoyed seeing people express themselves freely against the government, even in a state that was one of the major reasons Don Estúpido was elected in the first place.</div>
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February</h2>
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In early February, my niece had a gymnastics competition in Milwaukee, so I headed up there for that and in our downtime, I showed my mom and sister my favorite parts of the city (including the Milwaukee Art Museum, whose butterfly-esque entrance was designed by Santiago Calatrava, a Spaniard who has designed many gorgeous buildings and bridges I've visited across Europe and America, including Valencia's City of Arts and Sciences and the new PATH station at the former World Trade Center site in NYC).</div>
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A few weeks later, my volunteer group (the Jaycees) and I went on a day trip to the Field Museum in Chicago, which was free in February for Illinois residents. After we worked up an appetite walking around the museum, we headed over to Chinatown for ALL. THE. DELICIOUS. NOMS. Can't wait to get back there again for more!</div>
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Speaking of noms, at the end of February my friend C and I went up to the International Festival in Madison to watch amazing flamenco dancers, have our names written in Chinese, see African drummers, and eat hands down the best tiramisu I've ever had in my life (including in Italy).</div>
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March</h2>
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For my dad's birthday in early March, I went to see him up in LaCrosse, and while crossing the Mississippi River, we noticed all the bald eagles fishing. I'd never seen so many of them in one spot before, and trying to get good photos of them was a really fun experience (despite the freezing wind)!</div>
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At the end of March, I flew to California for my spring break week to meet some family there. One of the coolest things we did in LA was to go see a taping of the James Corden show. I have a cousin who's a bigwig in Hollywood, so after the show, we got to play around on the set for a bit taking pictures and pretending to be "guests." My tiny brush with fame, I guess!</div>
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While in California, we also spent some time down in San Juan Capistrano, where we checked out the Spanish mission. Being a huge history nerd, this place would have been fascinating to me no matter what it looked like, but it was also one of the most beautiful places I've ever been in my life. I could have sat in that garden for hours and scribbled down the most fascinating of thoughts!</div>
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April</h2>
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Back in the Midwest, my friend K and I went to a Polish festival in Madison. We both have Polish heritage in our family trees (her much more than me, but it's there regardless), so this was a cool chance to eat faworki and pierogi, watch old men playing the accordion, and gaze at beautifully decorated Easter eggs.</div>
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May</h2>
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As a teacher, one must constantly be improving one's skills. So on a sunny day in May, I took a trip down to another school on the Near North side of Chicago to see how they teach Spanish there. I learned a lot from them, and I also had time for delicious hipster coffee from Ipsento and saw this beautiful mural. God, I love the city.</div>
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Less than a week later, another work trip. Our whole school took an end-of-the-school-year field trip to Starved Rock State Park, where we all went hiking and looked at many beautiful waterfalls. I love this place in the summer, but I still haven't been in the winter when the waterfalls are FROZEN. I think this has been one of my New Years Resolutions for three years in a row. Maybe 2018 will finally be the year?</div>
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Over Memorial Day weekend, I went up to LaCrosse to see my family there. I have this crazy uncle who loves to fly around in a powered parachute, and he had promised my niece that she could take her first flight, so we all gathered around with the million gnats in the pasture to see her go. Such fun (minus being covered in bites for the next week)!</div>
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June</h2>
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My best childhood friends J & L and I have a tradition of getting together a few times a year and taking a day trip somewhere. This time it was to Lakefront Brewing Co. in Milwaukee, where we took a tour and tasted a few of their wares before wandering the Milwaukee Public Market and ending the day with a bonfire.</div>
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A few days later, I was finally free for the summer! I immediately went off on another trip with two couples I met in Vigo (Spain), A&L and J&J. I drove with them up to the coast of Western Michigan for a few days of relaxing in the lake, cooking, and reminiscing. Oh, and getting soaked by a torrential downpour. Good memories!</div>
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These same friends were (mostly) from out of town, so we took some time exploring the sights of downtown Chicago as well. But from the river!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKRwDe0Fxzv2k2lq1V5TNSjgbTFHe1_cgsSqbP_1pXfpzeVDSahMbzHXZaxUkhCCu6noKtRrWF0uorH0NXF3VppFEh1Pl9mWeF8X6hS2bNwCqS5z8PSPL32CYdQjEF1BRsJXvMbM_NOz1d/s1600/DSC_0201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKRwDe0Fxzv2k2lq1V5TNSjgbTFHe1_cgsSqbP_1pXfpzeVDSahMbzHXZaxUkhCCu6noKtRrWF0uorH0NXF3VppFEh1Pl9mWeF8X6hS2bNwCqS5z8PSPL32CYdQjEF1BRsJXvMbM_NOz1d/s320/DSC_0201.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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For Christmas and their birthdays every year, I tell my nieces and nephews that they're going to get to go on some kind of trip with me. These vary in distance and activity, but I always enjoy them. Hopefully, they do too! This year, my 8-year-old nephew went with me to the Cave of the Mounds in Wisconsin, where we saw formations like this and he was extremely amused by the expression "cave bacon."</div>
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July</h2>
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On this day in early July, I drove to O'Hare International Airport to pick up a guy I'd been dating for the few months previous, and then we went to a White Sox game. As I'd always found baseball incredibly boring, this was obviously not my first choice of activities for the day, but I'd never been to a game before in person and thought I'd give it a try since he was obsessed with baseball. Other than not knowing WTF was happening most of the time and slowly turning into a lobster, it wasn't terrible. Mostly.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF1BXeH8ASMbghfIw_ylwSWdY3ToiRSa-H9xG_AL8HhGHZ_OfbqDRBz8F961VlVj-03awN9nzixmwveC-a5DErovJkwBooMSw_EGRio8TqjCE2IBrPV8zUj6XyK2e9ie87eWRlsjSHIvW8/s1600/DSC_0287.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF1BXeH8ASMbghfIw_ylwSWdY3ToiRSa-H9xG_AL8HhGHZ_OfbqDRBz8F961VlVj-03awN9nzixmwveC-a5DErovJkwBooMSw_EGRio8TqjCE2IBrPV8zUj6XyK2e9ie87eWRlsjSHIvW8/s320/DSC_0287.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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A few days later, my bowling team and I went to Famous Fossil vineyard in Freeport, IL. They have a beautiful patio overlooking the vines where we hung out for several hours just chatting, and I am definitely keen to repeat this experience in the future!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhCFdC6yjBIJxeXjDZs5TiAOxNX4xkbqafFtM3FgkrpODSHUZt7hmkaqqU_Z4gqdYrWYM9vUbBqrlg0yX85J5ewP3ylrsxv5ZONpqSnWO-0swho88C6L8ox3n9jJoc8ysSsfoZcm_s4p9/s1600/DSC_0292.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhCFdC6yjBIJxeXjDZs5TiAOxNX4xkbqafFtM3FgkrpODSHUZt7hmkaqqU_Z4gqdYrWYM9vUbBqrlg0yX85J5ewP3ylrsxv5ZONpqSnWO-0swho88C6L8ox3n9jJoc8ysSsfoZcm_s4p9/s320/DSC_0292.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Just a couple of days after that, my parents and I were off on our summer vacation! We were driving west, so after visiting my sister in the Twin Cities, our next destination was Alexandria, Minnesota. Mind you, I had no particular desire to stop here, but my mom was obsessed with seeing this runestone recovered by a farmer in a field 100 years ago that supposedly has Viking runes on it, meaning that the Vikings had come this far west 1000 years ago. Except according to linguists, there are runes used on the stone that weren't invented until centuries later. Soooooo it's most likely a fake. At least, according to what I read online. But my mom has decided definitively that it's real, so we bickered about that for a few hours. However, Fort Alexandria (where the stone is now housed) has some history of its own, so that was interesting to learn about!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirNIDVAPaQUopWDorB4rDRKgopeSP0mOdh2PvpNFxY06HIdIq0w4S8Ca85SrqKxhBESbGRr77u4sG13kNiGk_NzWFFyVCuBD5yeQ5zPWzUlY9F2XAI1pASe45mrWgVa8oXtQGn_fMl5UO6/s1600/IMG_6533.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1361" data-original-width="1600" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirNIDVAPaQUopWDorB4rDRKgopeSP0mOdh2PvpNFxY06HIdIq0w4S8Ca85SrqKxhBESbGRr77u4sG13kNiGk_NzWFFyVCuBD5yeQ5zPWzUlY9F2XAI1pASe45mrWgVa8oXtQGn_fMl5UO6/s320/IMG_6533.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Next stop, Fargo, North Dakota. Mostly this town just makes me think of the movie <i>Fargo</i>, and probably for good reason (it seems like there's not much there). Thanks to Yelp, I managed to find the only hipster coffee in town at Red Raven Espresso Parlor, and this was the dumpster they had out back. Inspirational life stories on a dumpster, why not??</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6cNzaDVXM8czJX0XisTCLO-oBNmp3zMq-7e06ZNOAoJOAvNsZ5M-yjYLfEJxfiummIts4ZZsbCE9FrIQJxuBlQ8qXgOUzfHfXDLrwz49rLJpGpec_4YiLzJZz4tuzhdC1ND5nG15kERuE/s1600/DSC_0009.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6cNzaDVXM8czJX0XisTCLO-oBNmp3zMq-7e06ZNOAoJOAvNsZ5M-yjYLfEJxfiummIts4ZZsbCE9FrIQJxuBlQ8qXgOUzfHfXDLrwz49rLJpGpec_4YiLzJZz4tuzhdC1ND5nG15kERuE/s320/DSC_0009.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Crossing the Canadian border into Winnipeg, we ate in The Forks and went to the Human Rights Museum there. Honestly, I wasn't sure what to expect from this place, but I was pleasantly surprised by how much I ended up learning about the poor treatment of Canada's First Nations people in the past.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfn850DqzyI_mDR5vNKBQzLt4ee74NwN5vuHWO6x9scQQoE28LgdIVXYiDG1zjVvp52fIN0qKzY7SbE59GBjzubhIwhiZGZlMAxLpCqWmSgOK6IEABanqmKnr4b3RwCVsIb3U_gPEjT06_/s1600/DSC_0065.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfn850DqzyI_mDR5vNKBQzLt4ee74NwN5vuHWO6x9scQQoE28LgdIVXYiDG1zjVvp52fIN0qKzY7SbE59GBjzubhIwhiZGZlMAxLpCqWmSgOK6IEABanqmKnr4b3RwCVsIb3U_gPEjT06_/s320/DSC_0065.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Next, I was pumped to start using the pass I got to enter all of Canada's national parks FOR FREE for their 150th anniversary as a country. We drove through Riding Mountain National Park in Manitoba, where I'd reeeeeally been hoping to see some bison. And, well...there is one appearing in this photo, although you (like me) probably can't really see it at all behind the wild grasses. Oh well, I tried.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuCHd3cW_yeKoGJXi5-KUaHsy2Rpby7k3jchxdsgT69qF3C8LljLw-cPCUJkOTeCXTfVyJtLlHC6Irc_WAzvEPXfbnEy7Y9oOBu62YjUMlcerbK2OqRgVjQJ1kW8JVY3zWzCmW9_ER5Ch3/s1600/DSC_0080.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuCHd3cW_yeKoGJXi5-KUaHsy2Rpby7k3jchxdsgT69qF3C8LljLw-cPCUJkOTeCXTfVyJtLlHC6Irc_WAzvEPXfbnEy7Y9oOBu62YjUMlcerbK2OqRgVjQJ1kW8JVY3zWzCmW9_ER5Ch3/s320/DSC_0080.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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As we made our way across the (frankly, quite dull) Canadian prairies, we looked for stops to break up the monotony. One such stop was Wanuskewin tribal park in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. We learned a bit about the local Northern Plains First Nations tribes and how their people have been gathering at this spot for more than 6,000 years!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTPc775UjwJrjWmxbp6Jn39_AfZ4TmqsToD7u-mTMcWwcxy9dQSAaaDFEKb6pqBIMsbL2PawaB1i8d6dRRPRddCJhEKGmmSXBi0TYmwYPO5-eTkM8MRQ6Hq1GzuoKYEmLxnUxiMKp-M9XK/s1600/20170716_123526.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1172" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTPc775UjwJrjWmxbp6Jn39_AfZ4TmqsToD7u-mTMcWwcxy9dQSAaaDFEKb6pqBIMsbL2PawaB1i8d6dRRPRddCJhEKGmmSXBi0TYmwYPO5-eTkM8MRQ6Hq1GzuoKYEmLxnUxiMKp-M9XK/s320/20170716_123526.jpg" width="234" /></a></div>
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Growing up near the Mall of America, I'd always been told that it was a super special place, the largest mall in all of America! Silly me, I'd always thought that the "America" in the name referred to, well, all of America. North America, Central America, South America, all the Americas. Except, um, no. The <i>estadounidense</i> news bubble strikes again, because the West Edmonton Mall in Alberta, Canada is actually the largest shopping mall in North America, but there's also one in Panama that's even larger! The question of why there needs to be a capitalist competition for having more space to sell useless products, however, still remains unanswered.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6t8m5QV-cOooJ_cEe_PY9KXGpTLtlTtqC_JmQis-rNniKOKNlAUaCNaSnM5QCOaSMKojQY6fGcblO_nd_vshRc-hviFgkc0lNspKoN_PI_mebT1R78hN3-f98jq45vH4iv4pYVP3Zwbl/s1600/DSC_0174.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="929" data-original-width="1600" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6t8m5QV-cOooJ_cEe_PY9KXGpTLtlTtqC_JmQis-rNniKOKNlAUaCNaSnM5QCOaSMKojQY6fGcblO_nd_vshRc-hviFgkc0lNspKoN_PI_mebT1R78hN3-f98jq45vH4iv4pYVP3Zwbl/s320/DSC_0174.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Finally, finally, after days and days of monotonous flat driving across Canada, we made it to the mountains. Jasper and Banff National Parks in Alberta did not disappoint in terms of lakes, waterfalls, hot springs, glaciers, and beautiful spots to ponder life. The lake I'm sitting at here is called the "disappearing" lake because apparently, it drains in the wintertime due to weirdness with the way the water and the ground freeze.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQoJHV-egvoaI29FW_sMoalZnLeUEGe147kUNlKE1hNV5vtOfXlw25eKFmj0juL8O_JizYr4x1hY9QY2eu0S_DOrdpEpQCO5K2gyzRDfdK4i071p522zq7uxyTo9L76FRsCuAcDjQ-egyF/s1600/DSC_0361.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1107" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQoJHV-egvoaI29FW_sMoalZnLeUEGe147kUNlKE1hNV5vtOfXlw25eKFmj0juL8O_JizYr4x1hY9QY2eu0S_DOrdpEpQCO5K2gyzRDfdK4i071p522zq7uxyTo9L76FRsCuAcDjQ-egyF/s320/DSC_0361.jpg" width="221" /></a></div>
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After we'd spent some time in the glorious Canadian nature, it was time to head south to Calgary, Alberta, where I played around at the fort pretending to be a Mountie. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2LohIIz__f2cLWXe-HtBg4qzwz70h2ckI1WZV5O0oy9TX3REDg-BWeg_x08ZoxGTzLx7e7oIcDC3H5uJzzP9GrHxHtPaTD07rSSY97_AafUo640przSm4eRpOewWRICtsCwpunFKdC1kM/s1600/20170719_150138.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2LohIIz__f2cLWXe-HtBg4qzwz70h2ckI1WZV5O0oy9TX3REDg-BWeg_x08ZoxGTzLx7e7oIcDC3H5uJzzP9GrHxHtPaTD07rSSY97_AafUo640przSm4eRpOewWRICtsCwpunFKdC1kM/s320/20170719_150138.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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We then crossed the border once more into the USA and went straight into Glacier National Park. My parents are over 65 and are able to get national park passes for free, which is a huge benefit to traveling with them around our country. When we got to Glacier, my mom and I hiked to this waterfall back in the woods WITHOUT bear spray, which was probably not the smartest decision, given that some people we passed said they'd seen signs of one not too long before. Oops.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBGgNfqoEX9YC45pBN48ipb0ciF9yVObZjoiFhUWBAlR-k8-iEPhoVb20zGWDi57NcHjyBV2Ygg9fikqrfUYYolt-4WNn7SwPhkDvj_P1sHDfeQ_UISuzf5ErXDGYKEYqA9iW9_v_gxhh8/s1600/DSC_0508.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBGgNfqoEX9YC45pBN48ipb0ciF9yVObZjoiFhUWBAlR-k8-iEPhoVb20zGWDi57NcHjyBV2Ygg9fikqrfUYYolt-4WNn7SwPhkDvj_P1sHDfeQ_UISuzf5ErXDGYKEYqA9iW9_v_gxhh8/s320/DSC_0508.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Next, we drove over to Yellowstone National Park, which was <b>crowded</b><i>. </i>We were still able to see Old Faithful erupt, we still saw these beautiful thermal pools, and overall it was a good day. That is, until we hit a large deer just after leaving the park and it nearly totaled my parents' car. We were all fine (thank god), although obviously the deer not so much. Then, to make matters worse, the police and the tow truck got lost trying to find us out in the middle of nowhere, Montana, and it ended up being 5 hours later in the middle of the night after we'd been eaten to death by mosquitos that we got picked up. And THEN local rental cars were so expensive ($800 per day, HAH) that we got trapped in rural Montana for a further 4 days waiting for a flight home! Our huge stroke of luck was that my mom happened to have a high school friend who lives nearby, so she graciously let us stay with her while we figured things out. She completely saved us and I can't thank her enough!</div>
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August</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZvISVqly9kjDrGIiUdNZGWA_JPUjDs7E8WzGTa9g3a-TciQ6TviWAgBsymN2_ELKyztNOrZfFRUAjyAePX3xL-42_KPz8aPr08Ye__Fr8leH8jQ1DRc71Q0Ca6OCMi_ULm1dHCcmP6GRL/s1600/DSC_0781.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZvISVqly9kjDrGIiUdNZGWA_JPUjDs7E8WzGTa9g3a-TciQ6TviWAgBsymN2_ELKyztNOrZfFRUAjyAePX3xL-42_KPz8aPr08Ye__Fr8leH8jQ1DRc71Q0Ca6OCMi_ULm1dHCcmP6GRL/s320/DSC_0781.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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I almost didn't want to go on this trip to New York after the traumatic end to the road trip with my parents. However, I had planned to meet one of my best friends in the world who I never get to see just a few days after getting back from Montana, so I anxiously got on a plane and headed off again. Seeing A (my Mexican roommate from when I was living in Saint-Malo, France) was amazing. It was also nice to be back in NYC in the summertime when it was a little easier to see why some people might find it a charming place to live. I mean, <b>I </b>personally still wouldn't want to, but I enjoyed crossing the Brooklyn Bridge on foot, eating pizza in Little Italy, exploring Central Park, and also just sharing girl talk with one of my favorite people in the world. </div>
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However, this trip too ended on a sour note, because the second I got back, I went through a really rough breakup, the repercussions of which lasted for months afterward. There were some emotionally abusive things that happened between us that were NOT. COOL. and unfortunately, that really didn't sit well with me. I had been going through some personal stuff even before that happened, and honestly, the breakup was the straw that broke the camel's back for me. For several months, I lost all desire/ability to do things that I normally love (like travel, eat, and sleep), and that really scared me. However, the positive note to all of this was that I got scared to the point that I decided to seek help, and I ended up making some positive changes that are already making 2018 SO much better than last year was. But it took some time and a lot of work to get to where I am now, and man, the end part of 2017 effing sucked.</div>
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So if the rest of this recap seems...different in tone than the first part, that is absolutely why.</div>
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September</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ZmgSBlAjUlqz2ZRtiLzomJDyuZICn51mCPQ6iu9sne7wm8PIURTm3ssZ2uOU8Q0AYnZGlvh43ePCgZ0P_TYwaQSdHPXrEa1RND72h3EtxB9ktx-9yj38NzoQ_YwXWFQZOOaLFHe6BGPh/s1600/DSC_1023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ZmgSBlAjUlqz2ZRtiLzomJDyuZICn51mCPQ6iu9sne7wm8PIURTm3ssZ2uOU8Q0AYnZGlvh43ePCgZ0P_TYwaQSdHPXrEa1RND72h3EtxB9ktx-9yj38NzoQ_YwXWFQZOOaLFHe6BGPh/s320/DSC_1023.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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My friends from my volunteer group (the Jaycees) took a trip over Labor Day to the Wisconsin Dells. I went along because I knew getting out of the house might help me, although (spoiler alert) I still felt pretty bad while we were there. We went on a boat trip through the rock formations of the Upper Dells, and I sort of felt like I was going through the motions of what having fun is supposed to be like, except I'd forgotten how to actually do it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-hvzDsU5A7MEpBk-2crkdpiUQL0hVuRvxTtolTjPTYBXiNfjnxQJ6Y3UYRrtUJHxr1ZOOgC1URyv6BfkwhMPQ5tzdvoVa2_lNAyVenqtTwCGAYsz4l0l2qNJf8NX3P9o70MMvd8oEcYvI/s1600/IMG_6873.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1415" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-hvzDsU5A7MEpBk-2crkdpiUQL0hVuRvxTtolTjPTYBXiNfjnxQJ6Y3UYRrtUJHxr1ZOOgC1URyv6BfkwhMPQ5tzdvoVa2_lNAyVenqtTwCGAYsz4l0l2qNJf8NX3P9o70MMvd8oEcYvI/s320/IMG_6873.jpg" width="282" /></a></div>
A few weeks later, I went to the Pretzel City Brewfest in Freeport, IL. with my friend C. Once again, even though we tried lots of interesting beers and even saw a DeLorean, I wasn't feeling like myself.<br />
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October</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyFu-saBrWlXYV9RnwpgySJ7hbrCC4_zuC9JCtojnPEuWgEPkZ3vMM0NL8EqDdYaaL2YjS2MBbejbyDX1IFrEiblnK_xaB4HUVrpltQAHED0u7AIRlEXrhA1E7CUEc2UqTWbxNwr1DxVyz/s1600/IMG_6884.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1211" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyFu-saBrWlXYV9RnwpgySJ7hbrCC4_zuC9JCtojnPEuWgEPkZ3vMM0NL8EqDdYaaL2YjS2MBbejbyDX1IFrEiblnK_xaB4HUVrpltQAHED0u7AIRlEXrhA1E7CUEc2UqTWbxNwr1DxVyz/s320/IMG_6884.jpg" width="242" /></a></div>
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In October, I honestly kind of didn't travel anywhere at all. Given that I wasn't sleeping or really eating, it took basically all of my energy just to function at work. I managed once to force myself out of the house to Janesville, WI for a coffee at the interesting café there, but that was kinda it. Again, depressing, I know.</div>
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November</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglymPEuSoYtVEkrw_xe86HUwwSa4KDfTtj9vZBPrj7UXgpOVav0CyIfv1lDOdkIlgF7HfZY-17GCRcMPCPT9xnIC_s-TrATBm3m2X6CIR69_sOES_mAuYVTnj2rTdHLwe8DO3VPpRwelnK/s1600/IMG_6982.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1532" data-original-width="1600" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglymPEuSoYtVEkrw_xe86HUwwSa4KDfTtj9vZBPrj7UXgpOVav0CyIfv1lDOdkIlgF7HfZY-17GCRcMPCPT9xnIC_s-TrATBm3m2X6CIR69_sOES_mAuYVTnj2rTdHLwe8DO3VPpRwelnK/s320/IMG_6982.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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By the time November rolled around, I was starting to be able to eat again, so I went into Chicago a few times to try interesting restaurants there and celebrate my return to food. One of these was a place called the Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder Company that makes pizza "pot pies," which really truly were delicious.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-hyxn5WKBg1reVXUgyKdKmsD43x00An59U7EUj2lrO9c5tLutDsWlo1C-ds0lajZFRT5AUYnSjpl8nYn8iUPo-PHXXqkoYYwkKLJsmBrJh-IQbPat7nWNOjaNZq_Cae7yxwOr6V2brTT/s1600/IMG_7041.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-hyxn5WKBg1reVXUgyKdKmsD43x00An59U7EUj2lrO9c5tLutDsWlo1C-ds0lajZFRT5AUYnSjpl8nYn8iUPo-PHXXqkoYYwkKLJsmBrJh-IQbPat7nWNOjaNZq_Cae7yxwOr6V2brTT/s320/IMG_7041.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Another such restaurant outing was to La Tasca, a Spanish tapas restaurant in Arlington Heights, IL. While American-style tapas restaurants are a pet peeve of mine (overcharging for tiny plates is NOT how tapas in Spain work, this is so not authentic UGHHHHHHH), honestly going to this place was worth it if just for getting to have an Estrella Galicia. Just tasting this beer brings back so many good memories from my time in Galicia, but I can never find it anywhere in the States except this restaurant. <i>Moitas grazas</i>, La Tasca!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAtm7rFntiRgF69y5vbphBBEs_nu_-kdzExwZ4Y1zVemSJoTUaHBpi8l1eT-ToDCr4u7l_Icgc2JZjdKck6h4UIWgHTSgvH_6svQItuvAJQbQl4iHm5UsWsIkPe6Ta_cwQj4m_S0RJoIob/s1600/IMG_7098.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1597" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAtm7rFntiRgF69y5vbphBBEs_nu_-kdzExwZ4Y1zVemSJoTUaHBpi8l1eT-ToDCr4u7l_Icgc2JZjdKck6h4UIWgHTSgvH_6svQItuvAJQbQl4iHm5UsWsIkPe6Ta_cwQj4m_S0RJoIob/s320/IMG_7098.jpg" width="319" /></a></div>
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November was also an awesome month because one of the big positive changes I made was MOVING. I finally live all by myself now, and it is the best feeling in the world. However, after 5 years living abroad getting rid of all my possessions every time I left a place with just a suitcase, I had managed to reach the age of nearly 29 owning basically no housewares. Luckily, I have super generous friends who let me pick through the old things they are getting rid of. So I spent a day at the end of the month doing just that down in Chicago. Thank you SO much, B! You're the best!</div>
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December</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4Zld8448EH9CIJXxW1aADaXyNHkWd1dX_fq8iv7NisCwt9ABdu_5dFLAD4Vh0zkYgewXcM4jYW1xRQhTkGKM8lpGb4f7zw9PhFYkVSLhvbE3mOpg-Vs4hD9R4I0c5u92EXJw9cnPsqyv/s1600/IMG_7134.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1598" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4Zld8448EH9CIJXxW1aADaXyNHkWd1dX_fq8iv7NisCwt9ABdu_5dFLAD4Vh0zkYgewXcM4jYW1xRQhTkGKM8lpGb4f7zw9PhFYkVSLhvbE3mOpg-Vs4hD9R4I0c5u92EXJw9cnPsqyv/s320/IMG_7134.jpg" width="319" /></a></div>
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One Saturday in December, I went up to Madison because my eldest nephew had gotten my mother and me tickets to the Nutcracker. This show is special to me because I played the Nutcracker (and Clara, and Fritz, and various other roles) back in my days as a figure skater. He thoughtfully remembered that from when he was little and wanted to go see it with us. So grown-up!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-HM8bio5FVFC7lBHG4Agp6dFWGZ4h0KkfSrjemIuei9tZvKZIw9GUTFwe97wQHq6Ia9hHYhhgxcS0CuHQSbrl4qs3f_cnhtqNTLymcsjp6Sq-edeF4ksgdEtzwNiWDPL131-GCNTQGW0_/s1600/DSC_0259.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-HM8bio5FVFC7lBHG4Agp6dFWGZ4h0KkfSrjemIuei9tZvKZIw9GUTFwe97wQHq6Ia9hHYhhgxcS0CuHQSbrl4qs3f_cnhtqNTLymcsjp6Sq-edeF4ksgdEtzwNiWDPL131-GCNTQGW0_/s320/DSC_0259.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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On another adventure with my childhood besties, we went to the Christkindlmarket (a German-style Christmas market complete with glügwein) in downtown Chicago. One of them works in one of the skyrises, so we were also able to go up and get some cool pictures of the Loop from up high, which I really appreciated!</div>
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I spent the Christmas holidays up in chilly Minneapolis with my family, doing all the typical American things like opening presents by the fake fire and some not-so-typical things like filming our own version of the movie <u>A Christmas Story</u>. Lots of work! This coffee break was well-deserved.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIatiZJJpgLx3eib8OCLCoy8a6iiMnpKnkOj0tve0_MoSj52XCI_9Yj9JfauWbX312yl8WiXisJX-iiJejcK7bH9A8796prxt7XWtsREmENXNgTatlFl0FCgFLAlM4mrnvwjV3KmKv9GC/s1600/DSC_0561.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIatiZJJpgLx3eib8OCLCoy8a6iiMnpKnkOj0tve0_MoSj52XCI_9Yj9JfauWbX312yl8WiXisJX-iiJejcK7bH9A8796prxt7XWtsREmENXNgTatlFl0FCgFLAlM4mrnvwjV3KmKv9GC/s320/DSC_0561.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I finished off 2017 in Reykjavík, Iceland with my mother, seeing more fireworks than I'd ever seen before in my life. Apparently, in Iceland they're illegal the rest of the year, so people there will often spend a whole month's salary on them in December and then light them off for hours leading up to and following midnight on New Years. We watched the festivities from a hill near the church in Kópavogur, a suburb city of Reykavík proper. We had such an amazing view of the thousands of fireworks that just never seemed to stop, and it was an experience I will remember for a long, long time. </div>
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And well, that's it! I was so glad to see 2017 end, even if by the time I made it to Reykjavík I was no longer the same person who had been a shell of herself for months. 2017 definitely changed me, and although it kind of sucked, I made it through and I think I'm better for it. I see 2018 as an opportunity to start fresh and see if I can be better to myself. No more toxic relationships, lots of self-love and care, firmer boundaries. Eating and sleeping and talking to someone when I have problems. I don't expect all of this to happen overnight and I know I'll always struggle with some of these things, but I already feel I'm on a much better path and I'm interested to see where 2018 leads me. </div>
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<b>How is your 2018 going so far? Will it be better than last year? Why?</b></div>
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<b>To read some of my past yearly travel recaps: <a href="http://alisabroad.blogspot.com/2017/01/2016-travel-in-way-more-than-16-photos.html">2016</a> <a href="http://alisabroad.blogspot.com/2015/12/2015-year-in-travel.html">2015</a> <a href="http://alisabroad.blogspot.com/2015/01/2014-in-pictures-part-1-france.html">2014 Part 1</a> <a href="http://alisabroad.blogspot.com/2015/01/2014-in-pictures-part-2-america-and.html">2014 Part 2</a> <a href="http://alisabroad.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-best-part-of-2013.html">2013</a></b></div>
Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-47245240289030483592017-05-03T04:51:00.000+02:002017-05-03T04:51:57.188+02:00SMH, Rockford: Thoughts on the Condemnation of One of My Hometown's Most Famous Landmarks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgai83xbFkr0VJNlDn3JCxi-XizqPhMCIhHcO1HWvxpuKpv39182z5v4MhHXm_VmCJb1RQIs4SLRtpru3vbx-8dpUN9ZdrFIQQK0mjfkqpedAXQpoXfB_oDaeOTk5_bONwX-sS6W7OXGUO4/s1600/HPIM1305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgai83xbFkr0VJNlDn3JCxi-XizqPhMCIhHcO1HWvxpuKpv39182z5v4MhHXm_VmCJb1RQIs4SLRtpru3vbx-8dpUN9ZdrFIQQK0mjfkqpedAXQpoXfB_oDaeOTk5_bONwX-sS6W7OXGUO4/s320/HPIM1305.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>
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Can you imagine what the world would have to say if London allowed one of its most famous monuments, Big Ben, to fall into enough disrepair to be condemned?<br />
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(Well, more accurately, if it allowed the Elizabeth Tower to be condemned--after all, it's hard to condemn a gigantic bell! /nerd)<br />
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Would people take it in stride, or would it be a huge scandal?<br />
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I feel fairly confident placing my bet on the latter.<br />
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And that's basically exactly how I feel about my hometown (Rockford, IL) allowing its own landmark clock tower to be condemned. Sad. Astonished. Embarrassed.<br />
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The comparison between Rockford's and London's famous timepieces jumps easily to mind because of an adorable moment with one of my students last year. He was studying about famous landmarks around the world. My wanderlust-ridden soul was instantly intrigued, and I moved closer to examine the pretty pictures. He must have sensed my presence, because he held up the card he was working on and exclaimed to me, "Hey, I know this place! My dad and I just drove past here yesterday!" The picture, of course, was Big Ben, and his comment was impossibly adorable. Since that day, every time I go past Rockford's clock tower, I smile, knowing that in the eyes of a 5-year-old they are the same and we as good as live in London.<br />
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The Clocktower Resort was repurposed from a small motel in 1969 and was once a place where rich visitors to Rockford clamored to stay. The resort and convention center has since been a representation of the city to travelers from near and far who passed by on I-90, despite being located on its far eastern border. In fact, I remember once getting a text from a former <i>auxiliar</i> friend who returned back to the States from Spain a few years earlier than I did. It was nothing but a picture of the clock tower, with the caption "Look where I was today!" For her, as for many, the clock tower and Rockford were one and the same.<br />
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Of course, the homicide at the building's hotel last October was essentially the last nail in a coffin that had been constructed for decades. Not only had the building's water resort been closed by the local health department over a year ago for various (disgusting) violations, but the Clocktower had become known over the years as a place where teens liked to party, and alcohol often incites violence.<br />
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In a way, this occurrence feels too quintessentially "Rockford" for words. Rockford is a town that has the resources to do and be so much, that is trying so hard to shake the rough reputation it's become known for in the past 60 years. And yet, it manages to keep shooting itself in the foot in ways just like this. It allows its old institutions to fall into disrepair and condemnation for decades, ever expanding further north and east with shiny new buildings that do nothing to paint over or replace what was lost.<br />
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In some future posts, I hope to spend some time highlighting some of the wonderful local places in this gritty "real American" city that I've always had such a tumultuous relationship with. But for today, I'm feeling that old embarrassment that caused me to run away at the age of 18 without a glance back.<br />
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(A sneak peek of a cool "Rockford" place)</div>
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Maybe this closure will be the catalyst for some kind of positive action on the part of Rockford's citizens. Maybe there will be a new buyer who will turn the place into something truly great. Maybe this condemnation isn't as terrible a thing as my pessimistic mind makes it out to be.<br />
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But right at the moment, all I personally can think is this...<br />
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SMH, Rockford. SMH.<br />
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<br />Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-46099015287309365232017-04-21T12:57:00.000+02:002017-04-21T12:57:54.165+02:00How to NOT Celebrate Easter in America<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's funny how, when you're abroad small things like holidays seem like a BIG DEAL. When I lived in Europe, every holiday I missed with my family felt like a knife to the heart. Christmas alone, even when spent on vacation in beautiful Barcelona, is super depressing. Year after year, I hosted different expat Thanksgiving celebrations in order to feel like I wasn't missing out. I also remember remarking sadly to my local friends every year that I had nowhere to go for Easter, hoping they would take the hint and invite me home with them.<br />
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The first (and most difficult) of many years of expat Thanksgiving pies! It was my first time abroad in 2009 (though not my first Thanksgiving away from home), and I had no idea how difficult it would be to miss a holiday that had never meant much to me before. But having to go to school on that Thursday really, really sucked. </div>
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At my Spanish roommate's family's house for New Years 2013/2014. Thank god for his family taking me in that year, as I REALLY needed some friendliness and familiarity during a difficult year, and especially because it was my first-ever Christmas not going home! </div>
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At my French (now ex) boyfriend's grandparents' for Easter 2014. Another lifesaver of a family, they were so sweet to buy me a chocolate bunny so I could feel included in the celebrations!</div>
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A depressing-as-all-hell Christmas dinner in Barcelona 2014. I couldn't afford to go home for Christmas that year after an unexpected midyear trip back there for a funeral, so I thought traveling would be the next best thing. I tried my best to have holiday cheer anyway, but it was pretty rough, to be honest. </div>
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Watching my little baby students meeting their idols, <i>los Reyes Magos </i>(the three wise men) made me miss my niece and nephews SO much. Even though we don't celebrate this holiday in the States, being alone for <i>Reyes </i>2015<i> </i>was still hard.</div>
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I had no desire to be alone during these "special" times of year back then, because it just made me feel homesick, imagining all my family was doing back home without me. I was constantly imagining that they were having so much fun, forgetting how boring holidays can sometimes be. Silly brain, selling me bullshit all the time.<br />
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But now that I'm back in the US, living close to my family, it was just was Easter weekend and driving the 3 hours up to my parents' place seemed like too much work. I'm too tired. Meh.<br />
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Maybe it would have been fun, but I've also been really busy the past few weeks and just felt like I needed a break. So while everyone I know was posting pictures of their children dying Easter eggs and going on hunts for them in their backyards in adorable dresses, I went out on a walk to enjoy the sunshine and the newly-blossoming flowers. While it wasn't the most exciting holiday in the world, and it certainly wasn't what I'd been imagining all those homesick years away from home, it was nice. I felt very happy to just enjoy my own company as well as that of my bestie <i>Aníbal </i>(my camera).<br />
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Easter flowers, 2017</div>
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So while I'm not leading the life I expected to be while missing my family back in Europe, I'm not unhappy about my recent decision to NOT celebrate Easter at all. It was a nice day spent taking care of my physical and mental health, and I have no regrets about that. After all, isn't one of the true marks of reintegration with a group that you stop feeling anxiety about FOMO (fear of missing out, for my non-Millennial readers)? There will be other Easters, other holidays spent with my crazy family. I mean, don't take your loved ones for granted, because they won't be around forever of course...But do what's best for you without guilt or sadness. At least, that's what I'm learning to do this Easter. <i>Cuidaos, amigos. </i></div>
<br />Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-68456538779352189322017-01-20T04:48:00.001+01:002017-01-20T04:48:21.536+01:00On Saying GoodbyeI'm having a hard time not thinking of tonight, Thursday the 19th of January 2017, as the last night of sanity for the next 4 (8? oh god...) years.<br />
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I know I have a tendency to exaggerate, and perhaps that is exactly what I'm doing now. Maybe things won't change as much as I fear, and maybe if they do it will somehow be for the better. Obama told us 8 years ago to "hope" and I'm trying to still hold onto that message today. Perhaps I'll look back in years to come and laugh at my naïvité to think that any president could have such a negative effect on anything as I fear the next one might.<br />
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Still, it's hard for me to say goodbye to "my" president, the first one I ever voted for. The one whose campaign I donated to, whose face I had in 24x36" on my dorm room wall, whose buttons I wore everywhere proudly. This was the man I waited in line for hours to see on a freezing February day in Bangor, Maine, feeling like I just might lose my toes to frostbite but it would all be worth it even if I did.<br />
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<i>This is how I feel about long lines and frostbite.</i></div>
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Several months later, I cried when Obama won. This was not only because of the momentousness of electing our nation's first black president and a man I finally felt I could actually respect, but also because I was so sad to be in Maine rather than celebrating where we both called home, Illinois.<br />
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George W. Bush and 9/11 were the reasons I first started dreaming of going abroad. As a young moldable mind in the early 2000s, the xenophobia I witnessed around me during that time was a major impetus in my yearning to be somewhere, anywhere other than the USA.<br />
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When my older sister moved to Norway during that time, she felt unwilling to claim her identity as an American when first meeting new people, for fear of a negative reaction. Under her advice, I sewed a Canadian flag on my backpack the first time I visited Europe in 2006 and prepared myself to deny that I was from the United States to anybody on the street who questioned me. As I recall, this was a common practice at that time.<br />
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<i>On the Canadian side of Niagara Falls, already set to move my punk arse to Canada or the UK at the tender age of 15</i></div>
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However, Obama being president was what allowed me to move to Spain and stay there (and France) for 5 years without ever feeling the need to adopt a Canadian accent (eh?). I was able to freely claim my identity as American and make a living teaching my culture, not once fearing retaliation for my nationality.<br />
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In 2012, I held a mock election in my Spanish <i>secundaria </i>(high school) classes. Not one single group voted for Mitt Romney, and they passionately told me it was because they had "black in [their] hearts."<br />
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Obama was not only my president, they seemed to feel like he was theirs in some way too. He was truly a global leader in a manner that few are able to accomplish, and I felt proud to claim him as my own.<br />
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<i> Celebrating my American heritage at Thanksgiving mere weeks after the 2012 election</i></div>
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Again I say it's hard to say goodbye.<br />
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Two weeks ago I visited the 9/11 Memorial in New York City for the first time since its completion. In the museum, I struggled very much to keep my emotions in check. The memories of that day were overwhelming, and it was so hard to hear aloud the heartfelt messages to loved ones left by people in hijacked planes who knew that they would not survive what was coming next.<br />
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One of my most emotional moments in the museum, however, was reading the timeline and getting to roughly 9 am on September 11th, 2001, when President Bush was notified about what had happened to the Twin Towers.<br />
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As a young hormonal adolescent, I had a great deal of anger inside of me when Bush was elected president, but when I look back now, I know that all of that was sour grapes. I had a juvenile inability to accept that there were other people whose differing opinions deserved to be represented just as much as my own did. Despite my many misgivings about him when I was young, I know now that President Bush was a good man just trying to do his best in a very difficult situation.<br />
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As I was reading that timeline, a voice inside my head whispered to me: "If something catastrophic were to happen in the United States in the next few years, it will be someone else making important decisions about how to handle the situation--someone who reacts violently about insignificant things like an insult by a random person on Twitter. What would he do during a terrorist attack??"<br />
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The main emotion I have felt since November 8th of last year is fear. It consumed my thoughts for the first few days thereafter, and then it abated for awhile during our last two months of sanity, as I have termed them.<br />
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But now, with the inauguration in less than 24 hours, my fears have come raging back, though I know I am one of the extremely fortunate. I am white, I am straight, I am educated, I have a job, I live in a good area, and I was raised by a family with enough money to never lack anything I truly needed.<br />
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But I am still afraid. I'm afraid because it is very likely that soon I will be stripped of my health insurance. I am one of the <a href="https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/nhis/earlyrelease/insur201406.pdf">22 million</a> who were able to get insured in the United States for the first time in their adult lives because of Obamacare.<br />
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I am afraid because I am a woman and I don't know what kinds of laws some ignorant man may make about what I can and cannot do with my own body.<br />
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My friends back in Europe keep telling me, ever more emphatically as time goes on, to come back "home" to them. They say they're afraid for me. I understand their urgency--fearing a friend is in danger and not knowing how to help is one of the worst feelings there is.<br />
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Their fear is something I'm familiar with myself: I am afraid for those people of color, for immigrants, for the disabled, for those who speak another language, for those in the LGBTQ community. I am afraid for my family and my friends and all the Americans that I've never even met who are in a much scarier situation than I am.<br />
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I don't want to say goodbye to sanity and hello to fear. I sound like a petulant child, but it's the truth. I don't want to say goodbye to President Obama and welcome someone I mistrust and fear as the new Commander-In-Chief. I guess I have to, but I won't be happy about it.<br />
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I recognise now, as an older and wiser adult, that the anger I felt when George W. Bush was elected president was my own failing, my own naïve ignorance. But I'm afraid that my gnawing fear of what will happen after tomorrow is not so misplaced, and I don't know what to do about it.<br />
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One of my students asked me today, "So who is our president right now?" Understanding their post-election confusion and not wanting to discuss politics too much at work, I simply replied: "Today our president is Barack Obama. Tomorrow, well, tomorrow it will be different."<br />
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And it will. It will be a brave new world, and we will all have to face our fears.<br />
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But for tonight, on the last night of sanity, I just want to say to the President of the United States of America, my man Barack Obama... Thank you for your service. You were amazing, and I am so proud to have been able to call you my president for the past 8 years.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5eN34iYwd-YAgdcJtHpUz2IVFm8jBBe3_rhlQPeryEQxiHj4Ta_ax3UQsvvJLJALRGavv4fOf1LLZazFZV1VDYMumTVOSeq2S7FuRgSmrE_lddmW_9BPJKZNXfPvlsnZqUg_9HGLJrowa/s1600/HPIM1407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5eN34iYwd-YAgdcJtHpUz2IVFm8jBBe3_rhlQPeryEQxiHj4Ta_ax3UQsvvJLJALRGavv4fOf1LLZazFZV1VDYMumTVOSeq2S7FuRgSmrE_lddmW_9BPJKZNXfPvlsnZqUg_9HGLJrowa/s320/HPIM1407.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Obama at the Bangor Auditorium in 2008, when we were both less wrinkled and more innocent</i></div>
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<b>If anyone has any advice on how to abate my fears about Donald Trump, I welcome it with open arms. I am already planning a trip to a Women's March on Saturday in sisterhood with those who will be marching on DC (like my actual big sister, who I could not be prouder of). How will you fight your fears?</b>Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-47944558578269991562017-01-02T06:00:00.000+01:002017-01-22T20:51:25.826+01:002016 Travel in WAY More Than 16 Photos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Ah, 2016...a year that will live in infamy for many. A year in which my country elected a megalomaniac for president, a year in which many innocent lives were lost. In most respects, I am not at all sad to see the year go, to be honest. I like to have hope for the future, and it feels easier to do that with a fresh start. Still, although sometimes the bad memories cloud the good, the truth is that I did get to do an awful lot of exciting things this past year. Things that many other people only ever dream of doing, and I want to take the time to appreciate each and every one of them, if only for myself to be able to look back in a few years and remember the positives of the year, rather than the negatives. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">So before 2017 really gets going, I'd like to share with you my past year in travel. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">January</span></div>
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Madison, WI</div>
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I went to Madison, Wisconsin in January for an international festival. Madison isn't an exotic destination for me, as my sister lives there and I regularly spend time there. However, I'd never been to this international festival before, and I was very glad I went! The dancing was cool, the food was amazing, and it was really refreshing to be able to talk to other people who care about travel and the world outside the US bubble as much as I do. I felt like I was really among my people, and that was so nice. Hopefully I'll be able to go back again this coming year! I'm already craving some of that delicious tiramisu...</div>
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Alexandria, VA</div>
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Just after Christmas, I got a random message from a friend of mine I met doing the <i>auxiliar</i> program in Galicia. She convinced me at the very last second to go on a quick jaunt with her to DC over Martin Luther King day weekend. It was a whirlwind, but I'm so glad I went! We stayed with some other ex-<i>auxiliar </i>friends in Alexandria, which may be my new favorite part of the Washington, DC metro area. Oh my god, those old houses are so gorgeous! And we didn't even have time to explore all of the historical nooks and crannies...I definitely have to go back there someday to do some further investigation.</div>
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Washington, DC</div>
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While I've visited DC several times, I had also never been to the Martin Luther King, Jr. memorial in downtown DC. I found it to be a very moving experience, especially given all the racial violence that has been happening in this country lately. King definitely got it right with the above quote! </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">February</span></div>
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Chicago, IL</div>
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In February, I went to the Randolph Street Market in Chicago, which is a cool vintage/antique/designer market with about a million different stalls. My oldest friend was looking for some stuff to decorate her new apartment, so I tagged along to look. There were so many things I'd buy if I had a better place to put them! Someday, someday.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">March</span></div>
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Mauthe Lake Recreation Area, Kettle Moraine State Forest, WI</div>
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In March, there was a random hiking adventure I took on one of the colder weekends last winter. I remembered coming to the Kettle Moraine State Forest in elementary school, and I wanted to go back to see if it still interested me as much as it did then. The answer is yes, kettles and moraines (both geological features left by the retreating glaciers) are still super interesting. And even though the vegetation was pretty much all dead, it was still very beautiful! </div>
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Las Vegas, NV</div>
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For spring break, I took a cheap flight out to Vegas and met my family there. While Vegas isn't really my favorite destination on earth (I'm more of a grandma at heart than a partier), I do enjoy the pretty lights and the Cirque du Soleil shows. I've seen the Beatles "Love" twice! </div>
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Apache Junction, AZ</div>
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From Vegas, my family and I drove down to see more family in the Phoenix area. I've been there more times than I can count in all my life, but I always find new things to appreciate. The Arizona desert satisfies something in my soul that the Midwest just will never be able to! There is so much beauty in that state. The above picture is of some flowers on a hill near my uncle's house with Superstition Mountain looming in the background. I don't remember ever being in Arizona when there were so many flowers blooming in the desert before! </div>
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Near Phoenix, AZ</div>
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The saguaro cactus is one of my favorite plants. Every year when we would drive from the Midwest to Arizona I would wait patiently in the car for 40 hours in anticipation of the first saguaro sighting. When I finally saw one, it meant we were almost there! Any time I see one now, I cannot help but be brought back to those fond road trip memories. Plus, saguaros are super weird looking, and I love all things strange!</div>
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Montezuma Castle, AZ</div>
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I know for a fact I'd been to Montezuma Castle as a kid, but when you're seven years old, ancient Puebloan cave dweller ruins just don't interest you like they do when you're two decades older. I don't really remember coming here (maybe even more than once?) as a child, but I hope to remember it this time! How amazing is it that these kinds of things are still here in the present day? And how weird is it that scientists <i>still </i>don't know why these cave dwelling civilizations disappeared? </div>
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Sedona, AZ</div>
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Hmm, I wonder if I've been to Sedona before too. Possibly. I have no idea. That was kind of the theme of this road trip, trying to remember if I had visited the places we were going before or not! Regardless, I was totally stoked about coming up this hill to watch the sunset paint even brighter colors on these gorgeous red-stained rocks, and then it was pretty cloudy so this was as good as it got. Still beautiful!</div>
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Grand Canyon, AZ</div>
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Our next stop was the Grand Canyon. I do remember being at the Grand Canyon as a kid several times. I also remember talking about it in Spain and my Spanish friends always being confused that the canyon isn't in the state of Colorado, given that they call it <i>El Gran Cañon del Colorado. </i>No no, the RIVER is the Colorado, so named because of the color given to it by the sediment it carries. These are the kinds of facts that children just don't appreciate. See, although I'd been to this national landmark many times before I was an adult, I wasn't able to understand its majesty then in the way I can now. Who knows, maybe my wonder will continue to increase with age? I'll let you know in another 20 years! </div>
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Horseshoe Bend, AZ</div>
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Horseshoe Bend was a natural place in northern Arizona that I was able to introduce my family to, due to my obsession with Instagram (follow me <a href="https://www.instagram.com/alisabroad">@alisabroad</a>)! Of course, my fear of heights made it impossible for me to get close enough to the steep ledge to take the kinds of pictures other (<strike>stupider</strike> less afraid) people do, but I digress. It was still cool to be able to go somewhere new in a state I've been to so many times! </div>
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Antelope Canyon, AZ</div>
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The Antelope Canyons were also new to me, thanks to Instagram! This is now one of my favorite spots in all of the southwestern United States. Slot canyons are apparently a big thing in the travel photography world. While my photos are nowhere near the quality of some professionals (plus we weren't there at the right time of day for those amazing sunbeams coming down through the slots), it was mesmerizing just walking through here, looking at the patterns water had carved on the walls of the canyon. I wish it all could have gone a little slower, as our Navajo guides herded us through a little bit like cattle. It was totally worth it and I'd do it again in a heartbeat, but just so you know--this is not a place you will be allowed to take your time to soak it all in. Still, my dad (an Arizona native) didn't even know this place existed and now he tells all his friends about it, so it was cool to be able to show him something new and exciting. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">April</span></div>
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Monument Valley, AZ</div>
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Been here before several times too, never really appreciated it as a kid. Are you sensing a theme here? We took a guided Navajo tour through the reservation land this time and learned about the old Native American ways of living out in these parts and which areas are sacred to them, as well as many more things. I understand a lot more about their culture now, and I'm very glad we took the tour! Also, it's weird to think about this, but even though we were in the middle of the desert, it was still early April and it was FREEZING on our early morning tour. Keep this in mind if you visit Monument Valley during the winter months and bundle up way more than we did! </div>
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Monument Valley, AZ</div>
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This is the spot where Forrest Gump stopped his cross-country running trip. It is also one of the most iconic places to take a picture of Monument Valley off in the distance. Coincidence? No, not at all. I have loved that movie since I was little though, and it was cool for me to see the exact spot where they filmed that particular scene. Also, isn't the view from here just spectacular?</div>
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Mexican Hat, UT</div>
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Mexican Hat was just a quick pulloff we took on the side of the road as we started to head north, but it was definitely pretty with the flowers blooming! Do you see the rock formation that kind of looks like a sombrero? </div>
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Arches National Park, UT</div>
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Finally, a spot on our spring road trip that I'm fairly certain I'd never been to before! I know we've gone through Utah many times, but I don't remember stopping at Arches National Park in the past. Regardless, it is a place I would like to spend more than just an afternoon sometime in the future! Lots of lovely hikes, so little time. </div>
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Delicate Arch, Arches National Park, UT</div>
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So I know that Delicate Arch is one of the most popular places to take a photo in Arches National Park, especially at sunset. It's beautiful, I get it. But, um, can you see those hordes of people up there all waiting to take the perfect photo? I think I'd rather just find a different spot for myself, to be honest. To each his own, but this does not call to me at all! I was so glad I was down on another path, away from the crowds. This introvert can NOT handle that many people all at the same time. </div>
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Near Aspen, CO</div>
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After Utah, we started to drive back east, first hitting Colorado. Western Colorado is just so gorgeous. Mountains and pine trees and snow and skiing and craft beer, what more could you ask for? This was a quick shot taken out the car window as we were driving back to the Midwest, but I would like to spend more time in Colorado as an adult (the same as with, like, practically every other place my parents took me to as a kid, I guess)! </div>
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Milwaukee, WI</div>
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Sadly, soon enough our spring break was over and it was back to my regular life. Although I do work a lot, I try to find mini adventures to tide myself over until the next big trip. This photo is inside one of my favorite places in this world, the Milwaukee Art Museum (MAM), where I went with my mom one night for a French-themed party. Why exactly they were doing that, I don't remember, but we participated in an art scavenger hunt that was super fun, made French cards, and had delicious French wine and cheese, so no complaints from me! </div>
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Madison, WI</div>
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Another mini adventure in April was a day in Madison with my sister. This was also the day I discovered the most DELICIOUS Venezuelan restaurant in town, called La Taguara. My sister knows the owners and she let me in on the secret that is this amazing food. Oh my god so good. I wish I could eat here every day! </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">May</span></div>
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LaCrosse, WI</div>
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Finally spring arrived in May and with it lots of time spent up in farm country. I was never super fond of being dragged up to LaCrosse all the time (like, literally every weekend of my life from birth to age 18), but I try to find things to appreciate about the rural landscape now when I have to go there, like redwing blackbirds in the fields.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">June</span></div>
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Starved Rock State Park, IL</div>
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In early June, to celebrate the first weekend of my summer break two old friends and I took a weekend trip over to Starved Rock State Park. This isn't too far from where I grew up and yet I had never been here before, which is kind of astounding now that I think about it. We spent two days wandering through canyons and talking about our lives and stopping to take silly pictures with waterfalls. It was super peaceful, and now I have a huge hankering to go back here and take more pictures of the waterfalls in the wintertime when they're FROZEN. So cool, right? Totally on my 2017 bucketlist.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">July</span></div>
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Sydney, AU</div>
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Finally, finally, after a solid 11 months stuck in the USA, in July 2016 I made an international escape! It was my first trip on my new passport, and I was really excited to finally break it in a little. It was also my first time in the Southern Hemisphere, so I was totally interested to see if the toilets flush the other way in Australia like the Simpsons told me they did (<b>spoiler alert:</b> the answer is no). That was a disappointment, but there were other things to make up for it, like amazing Aussie coffee. Can we please make that a thing in the United States, like, yesterday? </div>
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Sydney, AU</div>
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While Sydney wasn't my favorite of all the places I saw in Oz, it was definitely cool to see iconic places there like the Sydney Harbour Bridge, the Opera House, The Rocks, and the Hyde Park Barracks. </div>
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Blue Mountains, AU</div>
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We also took a one-day guided tour to the Blue Mountains of Australia, just outside of Sydney. While this might have seemed like just another forested landmark had we gone on our own, our trip with Dingo Tours taught me a lot about the aboriginal legends surrounding this area. We had two guides, one Aboriginal and one Sydneysider (and his tween daughter on her winter holiday who was happy to share tidbits about her life in Australia). These two different perspectives on the area gave me a much fuller understanding than if I had just read about the Blue Mountains in a travel guide, so I was glad we chose the tour we did. And no, our tour was not comped, I just genuinely enjoyed the personalized experience that much! </div>
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Townsville, QLD, AU</div>
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After leaving Sydney, we flew up to Townsville, a large (ish) city in North Queensland. This was a perfect base for exploring the area and getting to the Great Barrier Reef, although due to the unseasonably terrible weather they were experiencing at the time ("The coldest it's been in 20 years!" according to our hotel manager) we did have to drive a few hours south to Airlie Beach to get a tour. Still, I was glad to be in Townsville for a few days because it was not as over-touristed as some other places in Queensland seem to be. That was definitely a nice change of pace after the hustle and bustle of Sydney! </div>
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Little Crystal Creek, QLD, AU</div>
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A few days after arriving in North Queensland, we took a road trip on a cloudy day to the rainforest. What was supposed to be a quick jaunt to see a waterfall turned into a crazy half-day adventure over winding mountain roads that quickly turned into dirt when we got back into the valley...and we never did find the platypus we were promised! This day was not at all what I had planned, but it turned out to be one of my favorite days in all of Australia. Sometimes you just can't plan good things in advance!</div>
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Great Barrier Reef, AU</div>
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Another of my favorite days in Australia was when we took a Great Barrier Reef tour from Airlie Beach. Though the weather wasn't the best and we'd been worried we wouldn't even be able to sail, once I got out there and snorkeled among the tropical fish it was instantly clear that it had been worth it. I know the reef isn't at half of the brilliance it once was, due to water temperatures rising globally, killing off the coral. Still, I was amazed at being able to swim next to a sea turtle and see even a fraction of the beauty that was once there. </div>
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Billabong Sanctuary, Townsville, QLD, AU</div>
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Another great day in Australia! Queensland was my favorite state in Oz for a reason, as most of the coolest things I did happened there. After a long, monotonous drive from Airlie Beach to Townsville (seriously, how do Aussie truckers stay awake with the sheer NOTHINGNESS between cities there?), I was glad to pull into the Billabong Sanctuary and see some Australian animals. They had all different types, including crocodiles, emus, and koalas. The kangaroos (wallabies? I have a hard time telling the difference) were allowed to hop around freely, and would lay there and let you pet them as much as you wanted. I had no idea their coats were so soft! </div>
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Adelaide, SA, AU</div>
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Our final stop in Australia was Adelaide, in the state of South Australia. This was a complete change from the tropical rainforests up north, but it was interesting to see yet another side of this vast country!</div>
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Kangaroo Island AU</div>
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On a day trip from Adelaide, we visited Kangaroo Island. The emptiness there gave me a small taste of what the Outback must be like, and I suddenly have a yearning to visit the nothingness that is Western Australia. I don't know if I would like to be the driver on whatever future excursion I take there however, as I now have a deathly fear of hitting a kangaroo on a remote Outback road at twilight (as nearly happened several times while on Kangaroo Island).</div>
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Kangaroo Island AU</div>
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Aside from all the 'roos we saw there, the other wildlife on Kangaroo Island was really amazing. So many different types of seals playing in the water, wild koalas in the trees, and many birds that I don't know the names of catching fish by the sea. </div>
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Barossa Wine Region, SA, AU</div>
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When I do a quick mental assessment of my time down under, I generally without a doubt remember New Zealand as being preferable to Australia. However, doing this look back at my trip, I realize I'm overlooking a lot of the really nice things I saw and did in Oz! From Adelaide, our cousin took us on a tour of the Barossa wine region, which was just gorgeous. Rolling hills and vines and eucalyptus trees AND delicious wine samples. Really, what more could you want?</div>
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Auckland, NZ</div>
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After hearing so much hype about New Zealand from my friends who live there, I was really excited to fly over. While Auckland is pretty different from the rest of the country, it has its own unique charms, such as amazing brunch restaurants, the New Zealand International Film Festival, and the Auckland War Memorial Museum. </div>
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Waitomo, NZ</div>
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We rented a car in Auckland, and our epic NZ road trip began. It was slightly difficult the first few days without a digital map before I was able to get a kiwi SIM card into my phone, but it all worked out in the end. Yay for still being able to navigate back country roads with a paper map! </div>
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Waitomo, NZ</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">We made it to Waitomo with only <u>slight</u> stress and immediately booked ourselves a tour to see the glow worm caves with Spellbound Tours, which came highly recommended at our B&B. After a late night arrival, my first time looking up at the stars and seeing the Milky Way, a delicious sleep, and a great homecooked breakfast, we were off on our personalized tour. While we weren't allowed to take pictures of the areas of the cave with the most glow worms, I had fun with the challenge of trying to capture them at all. The above photo is about the best I got, and I'm pretty proud of it for my first try!</span></div>
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Rotorua, NZ</div>
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Another long drive (this time with GPS) took us to Rotorua, the geothermal capital of New Zealand. I mean, basically the whole country is a geothermic paradise, given that it straddles two different plates of the Earth's crust, but Rotorua is famous for its hot springs and steam coming out of the earth. Oh, and also its smell of rotten eggs. While my parents compared Wai-O-Tapu geothermal park with Yellowstone and found it lacking, I was still impressed by the bright colors found in the waters. </div>
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Near Taupo, NZ</div>
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Taupo gave us our first experience of major New Zealand highways being shut down due to winter weather. We had planned to head south to Wellington past Mount Ngauruhoe (aka Mount Doom) on Highway 1, but since it was closed we had to take a detour through Napier. While this added a few hours onto our journey, the beautiful sunset we caught just outside of Taupo was kind of worth it!</div>
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Te Mata Peak, Napier, NZ</div>
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Napier isn't somewhere I would have probably chosen to visit had I not been forced to, but going there allowed me to see this view of the rolling hills near Te Mata Peak. I love the name of this place. In Maori I think it means something like "the peak," but being who I am I cannot help but think of what<i> "Te mata" </i>means in Spanish..."It kills you." Yes, climbing the 399 meters up here probably would kill me, but thankfully there is a sealed road leading up so all I had to do was drive. </div>
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Wellington, NZ</div>
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Finally, we made it to Wellington. I had been told it was a lot like San Francisco, which I suppose may be true, but it reminded me fiercely of Vigo, Spain. Those houses on the hillsides, the stores on the waterfront...the second I set eyes on this place <u>all the feels</u> came rushing into me. It's so weird the way this happens, but I instantly knew that Wellington was a place I could see myself happily living, even <b>before </b>I was shown around town by a dear old college friend. Hmm, perhaps someday...</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">August</span></div>
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Picton, NZ</div>
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After a few days enjoying the coffee and Lord of the Rings nerdery of Wellington, it was time to catch a ferry to New Zealand's South Island. I spent the majority of the ferry ride devouring the latest Harry Potter book, which came out that day (I looked around and I totally wasn't the only one eating up JK Rowling's every word), but luckily I finished it before we arrived in Picton. That meant that I was able to focus completely on the scenery there, which was breathtaking. My absolute favorite moment in all of New Zealand was the quiet reflective hour or so I spent down by the water next to our hotel waiting for the sun to rise over the mountains. Consequently, the above is one of my favorite photos from the whole trip!</div>
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Punakaiki, NZ</div>
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Heading west, we arrived in Punakaiki a few days later. Cliffs next to oceans are one of my secret delights, so this coastal road was a dream come true for me. And then! More weirdness, yay! These rocks look like pancakes stacked on top of each other, and they totally look strange but beautiful. And the waves crashing up against them sometimes shoot up like air coming out of a whale's blowhole, and that is pretty weird/cool as well. </div>
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Franz Josef, NZ</div>
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In Franz Josef, we took a random nighttime hike, saw more of the milky way, and took a helicopter tour up onto Fox Glacier. While I would have liked to have had more time up there (or more money to <u>afford</u> more time up there, to be precise), it was still cool to be up in the Southern Alps, falling into the snow and looking down on the majesty of one of Mother Nature's gifts to us all that we are totally taking for granted and destroying with our carbon emissions. Grr. I mean, not that I am innocent at <b>all</b> in my contributions to global warming, but I'm just saying...let's increase our awareness! </div>
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Wanaka, NZ</div>
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After Franz Josef, we hit up Wanaka, which was unexpectedly quiet and beautiful. I really liked the aspect of a lake combined with the mountains, and I totally could have spent more time here just relaxing and contemplating life. </div>
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Oamaru, NZ</div>
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Next on our road trip adventure was Oamaru to see the blue penguins there. While we were unable to find any on our own, we went to the Blue Penguin Colony and were able to see them coming into their little homes on the rocks at the end of a long day's fishing. Pretty cool! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4iu5N9LS1kY64vnS1cJvQhd9-Hi8Xt6AGwZ6iEnzvnWI6sa9U8ODdn_SyByJat0Fa0RukcufviFWXktmmAM8-QOXYTdOHEyB4HB65N45nhwtL3HAcQTVs3FrNH0AW4UvKo4UgdN1uiBn4/s1600/DSC_0115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4iu5N9LS1kY64vnS1cJvQhd9-Hi8Xt6AGwZ6iEnzvnWI6sa9U8ODdn_SyByJat0Fa0RukcufviFWXktmmAM8-QOXYTdOHEyB4HB65N45nhwtL3HAcQTVs3FrNH0AW4UvKo4UgdN1uiBn4/s320/DSC_0115.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Moeraki, NZ</div>
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These strangely round boulders are another of my Instagram finds. While there is actually a perfectly logical geological explanation for their formation that I am highly unqualified to give (something about mud being packed down on the bottom of the ocean floor), these boulders totally look like they were placed on the beach by aliens or something. More weirdness, I love it! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj29NqYsfX6fdMx-PnFywFDHyL7nNYMN3tyZ_CbiKjyX_JYg6-uUcWfa4HhM9HGBs9ai7zzsQJOlEu6lyW5TY3yTQQnIYGTO1yJuRbw2AnEVjS5k-rF2Wdi-nTMusU8GEEDKSEt9vNmMpt/s1600/DSC_0320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj29NqYsfX6fdMx-PnFywFDHyL7nNYMN3tyZ_CbiKjyX_JYg6-uUcWfa4HhM9HGBs9ai7zzsQJOlEu6lyW5TY3yTQQnIYGTO1yJuRbw2AnEVjS5k-rF2Wdi-nTMusU8GEEDKSEt9vNmMpt/s320/DSC_0320.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Christchurch, NZ</div>
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Finally, the last stop on our epic kiwi road trip. Christchurch is a bit of a strange city to visit. While it is completely modern and updated, it is a bit of a shock to come into the main square and see the gaping skeleton of a once-beautiful church. The 2011 earthquake devastated this city, and it is still struggling to recover over 5 years later. It is always moving for me to visit places where famous events happened <u>that I actually remember. </u>I don't know why, but I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I heard about the earthquake in Christchurch in 2011--sitting in my Fundamentals of Teaching Spanish class when the professor told us. I only hope not too much further damage was done after the recent November earthquake there. </div>
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Christchurch, NZ</div>
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Just as we were about to fly out of New Zealand, I had a sudden last-minute realization--this was my 35th country! Well, depending on how you count them, since actually the definition of "country" is kind of subjective... But since I've made a habit of recording significant numbers of countries visited in the past, I felt like I needed to at least make a token gesture towards remembering number 35 as well. So here I am outside a gift shop in the Christchurch airport that said New Zealand. Significant, right? Hah. And thus were concluded five weeks of nonstop travel down under. Phew!</div>
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Minneapolis, MN</div>
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I landed back in the States and was actually mad at myself for being so jet-lagged. Talk about being hard on yourself! However, that was a good motivator to actually get out and give my niece the birthday present I'd promised her--a kayaking trip down the Mississippi. It totally poured on us for most of the time, but at least the sun came out for a sunset view at the end! </div>
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LaCrosse, WI</div>
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The last weekend of my summer vacation, I went to a Wisconsin parade and came home with a kitten. I swear, when I was a kid they only threw candy from the floats, not live animals! Hah, no, nobody threw her literally at me, but someone my family sort of knows came to the parade with a kitten to get rid of and somehow I went home with her. So totally random, how do these things happen to me??</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">September</span></div>
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Harvard, IL</div>
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As September came and I headed back to work for the fall, I tried to squeeze a few last adventures out of the good weather. One of these was a hot air balloon festival in Harvard, Illinois. While the balloonmeister (possibly my new favorite word) said it was too windy to actually launch the balloons, they did something called a "glow," which meant they blew them up and we could walk around admiring them. Still pretty cool, if you ask me! </div>
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Monroe, WI</div>
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The following weekend, I went to a cheese festival in Monroe, Wisconsin. When in cheesehead country, right? The sampling tent was full of deliciousness, and every purchase made earned you a cheese necklace which I am TOTALLY using to glam up my attire during Green Bay Packer games this season. </div>
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Oregon, IL</div>
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I went on another random hiking adventure to Oregon, Illinois on a weekend in September. I don't think I'd ever seen this statue of Black Hawk before, but when I heard on NPR that they were going to be covering it for the winter soon, I suddenly had a massive urge to see it. </div>
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Freeport, IL</div>
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That same day, I also hit up a beer festival in Freeport, Illinois. So many craft brews to try, so much deliciousness! I kind of wish I could have spent more time there, but I can always go back next year. So worth it! </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">October (Oktober?)</span></div>
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LaCrosse, WI</div>
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It had been years since I'd been to LaCrosse during Oktoberfest, and as a kid I was never old enough to enter the actual fest grounds anyway, so I thought this year would be a good time to try it out. Due to the city's large German heritage and love of beer, LaCrosse, Wisconsin has one of the Midwest's largest Oktoberfest celebrations. Having visited the actual Oktoberfest grounds in Munich, I can say that this is nowhere near that scale, but I always appreciate a place where I can bust out my amazing polka dancing moves. </div>
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Chicago, IL</div>
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As October came to a close, I was asked to help chaperone my school's field trip to the Field Museum in Chicago. As a natural history lover, there was no way I was turning down that opportunity! While going for just a few hours with a bunch of my students was a bit more stressful than wandering through on my own, it was also more rewarding in some ways. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">November</span></div>
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Chicago, IL</div>
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In November I spent several different weekends going down to Chicago with my nephews. While the more touristy sites I've been to hundreds of times, I had definitely never been to a rugby game at Soldier Field before! Apparently this game was quite important and landmark, but I just had fun watching the New Zealand haka, trying to figure out what was going on as the players ran around, and yelling indiscriminately. </div>
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Fayetteville, WV</div>
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I already talked about my West Virginia adventure in my <a href="http://www.alisabroad.com/2016/12/november-2016-in-review.html">November recap</a>, but just to reiterate--I would like a mountain retreat vacation once a month every month to recharge my batteries, please and thank you.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">December</span></div>
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Chicago, IL</div>
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In December I was back in Chicago (can you tell I'm just a little enamored of the city?) to go to the Christkindlmarket, a German-themed Christmas market in Daley Plaza. I may just have to make this a tradition, because both last year and this I had such a good time eating potato-based foods and drinking gluhwein that I didn't even care about the snow!</div>
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Cascade Mountain, WI</div>
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One of my New Years Resolutions for 2016 was to go snowboarding more. Actually, this was the second trip I took in the year, but it is still not enough! I'm considering buying my own gear to make going snowboarding less expensive...we shall see if that happens this coming year. I just want to be snowboarding basically all the time, and this daytrip to Cascade Mountain in Wisconsin was like a teaser. I want more, more! </div>
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LaCrosse, WI</div>
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My final "trip" of the year was up to LaCrosse to celebrate the holidays with my family there. Mostly that time was spent gathering around the hearth with kith and kin, but we did hit up LaCrosse's Rotary Lights display for the second year running, and I had fun trying to get the perfect picture in this light tunnel (at least, until my fingers got numb with the cold and I had to give up). </div>
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<b>And that pretty much wraps up the year!</b></div>
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Gosh, re-reading all that makes me feel kind of exhausted. I actually had kind of a busy year in 2016, although it was the most stable one I've had in 10 years. Weird! </div>
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Still, if I don't keep busy I get bored, so I hope to have just as many if not more adventures in the coming year.</div>
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<i>Hasta siempre, </i>2016 and <i>salut, </i>2017! Bring it on! </div>
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<b>To read some of my past yearly travel recaps:</b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www.alisabroad.com/2015/12/2015-year-in-travel.html">2015</a>, <a href="http://www.alisabroad.com/2015/01/2014-in-pictures-part-1-france.html">2014 part 1</a>, <a href="http://www.alisabroad.com/2015/01/2014-in-pictures-part-2-america-and.html">2014 part 2</a></b></div>
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Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-8327858863517672452016-12-31T06:47:00.000+01:002017-01-30T03:25:59.015+01:00The Danger of Reminiscing Too MuchThe other night, I came home from spending the holidays with my family to find the heat not working. The thermostat said 45ºF (7ºC), and the vents were blowing cold air. <i>On the third day of Christmas, my old house gave to me...no more heat!</i><br />
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What a fun post-holiday surprise.<br />
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Oh, and did I mention that the temperature outside was a balmy 19ºF (-7ºC)?<br />
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It was about 10 pm, and after a quick phone call with my dad to try to check some of the easier possible solutions, it was surmised that nothing would get fixed until morning when the gas company would be open.<br />
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Facing the possibility of the indoor temperature dropping to that of the outside, and feeling distinctly averse to the idea of dying of hypothermia, I began to layer up like a tried-and-true northerner. Leggings under sweatpants, two pairs of fuzzy socks, two sweaters, gloves, a hat, etc.<br />
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After getting all that on and putting some extra comforters and blankets on my bed, I cuddled up under the covers and waited to feel warm. My poor shivering cat lay down right on my neck as we tried to share body heat between us.<br />
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Laying there attempting to ignore how cold I was, I started thinking about how this freezing cold sleeping situation, while uncomfortable, was not entirely unfamiliar to me. In fact, it was an experience I had almost on a daily basis during my five winters in Europe.<br />
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Most of my memories of living in Europe are pleasant ones, ones that I think fondly of quite often lately: long walks on the beach in the sunshine, having a <i>caña </i>or two on an outdoor terrace with friends, taking weekend getaways to new countries. What I tend not to remember during my trips down memory lane are the bad parts of living there. The truth is, I spent the majority of my time in Europe <b>freezing my ass off. </b> I never bothered to take any pictures of the ridiculousness of layering up like a downhill skier to go to bed every night, possibly because I didn't want other people to know how miserable that situation really was. How I was too poor to afford a comforter until halfway through winter, how I didn't have enough money to live in a newer apartment with central heating, how I was unable to figure out how to change my <i>bombona </i>(gas container) to take a warm shower, how my only option for warmth was a decades-old space heater that I was told might explode if left on all night.<br />
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<b>My sleepwear of choice the other night--and pretty much what it would have looked like if I would have ever bothered to photograph my Euro sleepwear as well!</b></div>
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Humans are amazingly adaptable and can make any situation feel normal eventually, which is why after awhile I became pretty accustomed to simply being freezing most of the time. I started showering at the gym in <b>their </b>hot water, I spent long hours in cafés soaking in<b> their</b> heating, and it all started to seem quite natural.<br />
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And then visiting family in the States, it was a shock when I stepped out of the plane and immediately started sweating my ass off in the overheated airport.<br />
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I am aware now, though I may not have been at the time, of the privileged life I had led up to that point. As an American, I was raised with the expectation of never having to deal with the actual temperature outside. Instead, in this country, we exist in a permanent bubble of 75ºF (23ºC) inside our gigantic homes and offices. I know now that my country's dependence on central heating and air conditioning is one of the many factors contributing to climate change. I know that in many other first-world countries, living with the actual temperature outside is not a matter of wealth, but rather a positive choice to consume less energy for the betterment of the planet. And in most non-first-world countries, there is no <b>choice</b> in the matter at all—you go about your business, regardless of the temperature outside OR inside.<br />
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But at that time, it seemed like a marker of poverty that I was living an existence where one of my main sources of heat all winter long was a gas oven and stovetop (both of which I had to light by hand with a match). And that was something I was far too insecure to share with my friends back home who were starting their careers, getting married, buying homes and having babies while I was “gallivanting on a permanent vacation” (in my dad's words). I wanted them to feel jealous of me, not pity for me!<br />
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So now that I am back in the States and completely re-accustomed to being cozy inside all winter long, the question is: would I really want to go back to that? I daydream constantly these days about Europe, thinking about how much better life was there, but in doing so I never remember the bad with the good. There were wonderful things about my life there, but it was also kind of difficult. Living life in another language, another culture, when you're making below minimum wage and have no one there to help you is HARD.<br />
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Having no indoor heating when you're used to its dependability isn't impossible, but it isn't super fun, either. It makes you want to cuddle up in your bed more than is probably healthy... Although it <b>was</b> a good motivator to go to the gym when that was the only place I could consistently get hot showers, <b>and </b>my carbon footprint was way smaller then. Hmm.<br />
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I guess what I'm saying is I need to count the blessings I have due to living in America—I have the ability to be warm the vast majority of the time here, no more lighting ovens by hand. And I actually have extra blankets here to put on myself when the heat breaks <b>and</b> people to help me solve these kinds of problems in a timely manner IN ENGLISH. Whoa.<br />
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(Because yes, while I did spend an uncomfortable night all bundled up, the gas man was here by 8 am the next day and it was fixed immediately.)<br />
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But at the same time as I am counting these blessings, I can still be aware of the lessons I learned while living in other countries—that it is possible to turn your heat down and still survive, that there is nothing wrong with sharing benefits with other people, that sometimes maintaining the planet is more important than your own personal comfort.<br />
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What I was reminded of by the experience of having my heat unexpectedly turned off midwinter is that it's all about balance. Winter warmth versus energy use, personal satisfaction versus planetary salvation. One of my goals for the coming year is to try to stay more towards the middle of these two extremes, rather than allowing myself to be swept away by the selfishness that is normal in American culture.<br />
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<b> And you? Do you have any goals for 2017, dear reader? </b>Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-16667234329563408712016-12-02T05:05:00.001+01:002016-12-11T22:29:29.914+01:00November 2016 in ReviewI think the thing I miss most about blogging more regularly (other than writing itself, which I love dearly) is getting to share my photos with the world. This past year, I finally got my first DSLR camera and have been enjoying playing with it all the time and learning about photography, so naturally it makes sense that I would keep all of those fun photos to myself...NOT.<br />
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All this photography has been one of my main sources of joy this year, and I'd like to show off a little. So this month I'm doing a review post so other people can share in my happiness at learning to take interesting photos!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In November 2016...</span><br />
I spent two full weekends in the city this month. I try to get to Chicago as often as I can, but two weekends in the same month is a rarity for me. I love every minute of it, other than how ridiculously expensive everything seems. But there are so many fun things to do there, how can I resist spending money?!<br />
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Early in November, I went to my first ever rugby game in Chicago! I was supporting New Zealand's All Blacks, who were highly favored to win. </div>
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However, there was a <i>slight </i>Irish bias in the audience due to the numerous Irish immigrants in Chicago. The Irish team even said they felt like it was a home game, despite being all the way across the Atlantic Ocean from home. I guess it was a significant win for Ireland, who hadn't beat the All Blacks in some shockingly large amount of years. Regardless of who won, I had fun trying to figure out the rules of rugby and yelling at players to "GO GO GO!!" And I may or may not have stolen one of those green rugby league flags...</div>
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In other sports-related news, the Chicago Cubs won the World Series and the city went INSANE about it. I can't profess to being a baseball fan (too slow for me). However, if I had to pick a favorite team it would definitely be the Cubbies, since they have a cool history and mythology surrounding them. And after over a hundred years' drought, I think they deserved the win. </div>
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I took one of my nephews on his first Chicago tour, so I spent some time with the more touristy monuments, like the Bean. I've taken a rather silly number of photos of this thing over the years! </div>
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This is another of my favorite spots in the city. I'm obsessed with the different flags on this bridge. The first is the American flag, followed by the Chicago city flag, then the flag of the state of Illinois, and then several repetitions of these same three. "Fun with Flags!" as Sheldon Cooper would say. What? I like flags. #sorrynotsorry </div>
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A few years ago, Marilyn Monroe was in this spot by the Chicago Tribune holding down her skirt over an imaginary giant New York City subway grate. Now the Land of Lincoln's favorite president has taken over the spot. Much more appropriate, if you ask me!</div>
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Om nom deep dish pizza in its original location. Enough said.</div>
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I had fun explaining some Chicago history to my young nephew, and he was shocked to learn that the water tower was one of the few buildings left standing after the great fire. "But what about the Loop?" he asked. Not there, sorry kid!</div>
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This is my favorite tourist trick in Chicago. It costs almost $20 per person to go up the Sears Tower or to the 360º observatory in the Hancock Building, but you can go up to the Signature Room in the Hancock for the price of a drink, and the views are totally great!</div>
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And if you're a girl, don't forget to visit the ladies' room for the best view from the Hancock!</div>
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Next up on my personalized child-friendly Chicago tour, the Ferris wheel on Navy Pier. In all the times I've been in the city, I'd never done this before. Was it overrated and overexpensive? A little. But the views up there WERE pretty spectacular. </div>
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After two jam-packed weekends in the city, I appreciated the quiet beauty of moments like a prairie sunrise on my work commute. </div>
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At the end of November, I spent Thanksgiving week in wild and wonderful West Virginia. Here in the north, the autumn colors are long gone, but not down south!</div>
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Winter's chill has yet to set in really down south, and so the rolling hills of the Appalachians were covered in both mist and bright reds and oranges. I don't know what it is about mountains, but the second I laid eyes on those hills a yearning to live in them called out loudly inside my heart. Suddenly, the wide-open plains of Illinois seemed immeasurably boring compared with mountains for me to scale. And all I can say to myself is "Be quiet, wanderlust! I'm trying to figure out this whole stability thing here!"</div>
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Our little cabin out in the woods at ACE Adventure Resort was the perfect cozy retreat from my hectic life. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLTKd7nr371NXMyfTCpt2RQhxA8YEozNScLTkhpqwb6mit_AhrDeF5eNsIe0hyphenhyphenLZrXvIwXjHmRDXCHu3h0hEvWv6MP9o5AMMkZrWI4jZyEyrwXEZzZKxuTCL4jkoi2kLupJiNQNPi67eMj/s1600/DSC_0154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLTKd7nr371NXMyfTCpt2RQhxA8YEozNScLTkhpqwb6mit_AhrDeF5eNsIe0hyphenhyphenLZrXvIwXjHmRDXCHu3h0hEvWv6MP9o5AMMkZrWI4jZyEyrwXEZzZKxuTCL4jkoi2kLupJiNQNPi67eMj/s320/DSC_0154.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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My question for myself as the madness of December falls upon me is: Can I get a cozy mountain retreat from real life once a month, EVERY month?</div>
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<br />Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-89871899978747222582016-07-02T21:17:00.001+02:002016-07-02T21:17:54.641+02:00The Ghosts of June Present: 2016 EditionIt seems there's always something to worry about, isn't there? Worrying is one of those very human traits that we just can't seem to get rid of.<br />
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At about this time a year ago, I wrote <a href="http://www.alisabroad.com/2015/06/the-ghosts-of-junes-past.html">a post</a> about the random worries I'd been plagued with in the past, and how insignificant they seemed from where I was standing in June 2015.<br />
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Well, now that another year has gone by and June 2016 is over and done with, I feel like it might be nice to continue the trend of laughing at my silly past self. She wasted so much time worrying about such insignificant things that turned out just fine! I'd also like to provide fodder for my future self to do much the same. I'll always have worries, but knowing that future me will be here laughing at them at this time next year (or in five years, or ten...) makes them seem less scary in the present, and it's always nice to be reminded of that.<br />
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So, Future!Alisa and Past!Alisa, this one's for you.<br />
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At this time last year, I was just about to leave Europe for the last time and make the big move back to the United States, for good. Understandably, I was rather nervous about this. I had no job lined up and no idea where I really wanted to live. I also had next to no money, and I was craving the stability that I'd been without since I'd moved away from home eight years before. These last two things, in particular, set the stage for where I find myself now, in June 2016. So did my worries about being jobless and homeless come true?<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2016</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vnLEXVaxErK0R02GOHKoTCyZ10mlBOQdXS29DH7SXY6i9U_tGEXgYMFMeVwI3ol8r8e3Pz9yqqLKKm3eK1nHjI6KF8D5R_R-08X7IEWZX5DtTlvDYe34v3pxqSguOUrB5JnI-X6KQOa8/s1600/IMG_5656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vnLEXVaxErK0R02GOHKoTCyZ10mlBOQdXS29DH7SXY6i9U_tGEXgYMFMeVwI3ol8r8e3Pz9yqqLKKm3eK1nHjI6KF8D5R_R-08X7IEWZX5DtTlvDYe34v3pxqSguOUrB5JnI-X6KQOa8/s320/IMG_5656.jpg" width="210" /></a></div>
I have just finished my first year as a Spanish teacher in my hometown in the States, and I'm currently on summer break. I'm spending my time planning a big trip to a new area of the world for me--Oceania! I'm very excited to finally be traveling abroad again after almost a full year of not leaving the USA. If I were to tell my teenage self that not quite ten years after making my great escape into the big wide world, I would find myself living not only in the town where I was born but also in the very house where I grew up, she would probably cry out in disbelief. Yet here I am. While it's never where I'd have pictured myself in a million years, I have to admit that it's not all that bad. A year ago I was craving stability, and it turns out that stability DOES feel really good. Having a steady job and not having to constantly stress about money is nice! Am I rich? No. Do I want to live in my parents' house forever? No way. But this year of being able to see my family and old friends whenever I want and not having to worry about moving halfway across the world or searching for a job was good for me, I think. This is the first summer in ten years that I haven't had to move myself and all my belongings between 2100km and 6700km (1300 and 4100 miles) across land and sea. Not having that kind of stress in my life has been really calming. While I'm still bursting at the seams with wanderlust, knowing that I have a steady home and job to come back to makes the idea of traveling seem more like fun and less like work!<br />
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Struggles: Trying to plan a long vacation in some of the more expensive countries in the world without spending ALL my savings, making new lesson plans for next year that improve upon those from this year (and they say that teachers have the whole summer off, pfft)<br />
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Fears: That I will crash into another car while trying to drive on the WRONG side of the road in Australia or New Zealand and kill someone à la Matthew Broderick except that I am NOT Ferris Bueller and will most certainly go to jail for my crimes (paranoid much?), that I will never meet an interesting gentleman caller in my tiny hometown where most people my age are married and/or do not share my main passions in life (namely, travel and foreign cultures)<br />
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Hopes for the next year: To find a way to move out on my own again, to join clubs and activities where I will meet interesting people in my town and make some new friends, to practice my foreign language skills more so they don't atrophy<br />
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So there we have it, the ghosts of June Present: 2016 Edition. I'm just as much of a worrywart as ever, but I also feel more equipped than ever to handle my problems with aplomb. For most of these issues, I <u>know</u> the solutions, I just have to find the right time and place to employ them. It's certainly easier than facing the great wide unknown. What a relief!Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-25407769454637393582016-06-27T21:47:00.000+02:002016-06-27T21:47:34.070+02:00Roll Out Those Hazy Lazy Crazy Days of Summer!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
After what felt like the longest winter ever (I was still wearing my winter coat at the end of May), I was really REALLY ready for summer this year. The absence of real spring plus the fact that the long winter was my <a href="http://www.alisabroad.com/2015/11/the-delight-of-my-first-real-snowstorm.html">first one in 5 years</a> meant that I was super anxious for the sun and warmth to just get here already.</div>
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In other words, I was craving those hazy lazy crazy days of summer. And now, they're here with a vengeance, with muggy 35ºC/95ºF weather <i>sin fin.</i> So I'm trying to enjoy them (or at least make the best of them...I whine for winter to be over from the end of February until the moment it gets hot, and then I remember that I actually truly dislike warm weather). But this year, I was smart and I planned a trip down to the Southern Hemisphere for their winter that will coincide nicely with some of the Midwest's worst sultry days. </div>
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I have bested you this year, summer, I swear I have! <b>*cue maniacal laughter*</b></div>
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Still, as I said, I'm working on appreciating the lazy days of summer before I leave (soon, very soon), so I've compiled a list of the things I love most about this sweaty season to help me remember to enjoy it!</div>
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To me, summer means...</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Beaches</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8zBcVDkY6Zz6XCl74Gxx13rK0bkrr_i_4LyVOMW3ZBuzI4-XjN_cnK1AEM82KDgnqbuaaEQ9_XT1crmSR6omBanEz77Vo_su2Eco5JECJT_XZ4S3GKYMpPpPVr2PQ9YSDERRFt1xyPhrV/s1600/101_5238.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8zBcVDkY6Zz6XCl74Gxx13rK0bkrr_i_4LyVOMW3ZBuzI4-XjN_cnK1AEM82KDgnqbuaaEQ9_XT1crmSR6omBanEz77Vo_su2Eco5JECJT_XZ4S3GKYMpPpPVr2PQ9YSDERRFt1xyPhrV/s320/101_5238.jpg" width="282" /></a></div>
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While I no longer live walking distance from beautiful beaches like this one in Brittany, France, there are some lovely beaches here on Lake Michigan that I should take better advantage of. And when I'm down in Australia, I'll get to enjoy the beauty of the Great Barrier Reef, yay!</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Vacations</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6S8xVzOcaoCX4DQw3ymXAXv5EftN5Ybp4tTXZ3f3jS0l55vAa0hRomH429AQ_L5Io_Elw1_0MJG1ZUWZADsjtWS7ThVLt8mRMGGdcck7OdWQj5ZepeKNRp1LMxSWYVy2fhxh3NC4_IVOM/s1600/100_3904.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6S8xVzOcaoCX4DQw3ymXAXv5EftN5Ybp4tTXZ3f3jS0l55vAa0hRomH429AQ_L5Io_Elw1_0MJG1ZUWZADsjtWS7ThVLt8mRMGGdcck7OdWQj5ZepeKNRp1LMxSWYVy2fhxh3NC4_IVOM/s320/100_3904.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Some vacations (like to the crystalline waters of Croatia's Plitvice Lakes) are hard to beat, but hopefully my upcoming visit to the stunning beauty of New Zealand will come close!</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Grilling Out</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rJ81ZZXz0wNFOKi7Rm0kO0OkkIG1BKNDsHHrjP5GdE7Q8ZKPG52Zh2doGBx87CZRPJEwvfKsJ2FIthga4J9QBc1DlsKMB1W6vkoZwdV1XyaPj8LRwKypaQcziTny3N2k88RttRtaYOHZ/s1600/100_4039.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rJ81ZZXz0wNFOKi7Rm0kO0OkkIG1BKNDsHHrjP5GdE7Q8ZKPG52Zh2doGBx87CZRPJEwvfKsJ2FIthga4J9QBc1DlsKMB1W6vkoZwdV1XyaPj8LRwKypaQcziTny3N2k88RttRtaYOHZ/s320/100_4039.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Grilling hot dogs and hamburgers luckily is something that has always been pretty easy for me to do in both Europe AND America, and I'm certain I'll get my fair share in during Fourth of July weekend. Looking forward to it!</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Hiking</b></span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJoabzMhdpMZ5jD-YrUZeZ709xO-4uvBESHwNBEx2Vw8_KZHo2mrzflTNs6-KNpuetcwj4IK4rEn71XzqUHRVYGfqaAQGA8vITtq4QO2TEQleTXJXrN-zwk7WIM85RSggkpK8mARb_iZZ8/s1600/100_4092.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJoabzMhdpMZ5jD-YrUZeZ709xO-4uvBESHwNBEx2Vw8_KZHo2mrzflTNs6-KNpuetcwj4IK4rEn71XzqUHRVYGfqaAQGA8vITtq4QO2TEQleTXJXrN-zwk7WIM85RSggkpK8mARb_iZZ8/s320/100_4092.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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There are great hikes all over the world, and even though some of my favorite ones are back in Galicia, there are beautiful places in America as well, like the New River Gorge in West Virginia. Except when it's being flooded by torrential rain like it is right now. I really hope that the local raft guides (from my sister's company, ACE) are still out there doing their part. #wvstrong</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgskQHnX0MEDVD8xG1hsUPz8rKbHXuTddc3wJFu8XlH-O3bYjM1tzSXWOsVrRM9MXi64cnhStJKNrxhkkvCV4bGtNKsqtIEEkdd1D29Nx9ngfc-OfcW47CH7LnCa-jnhDoITBLwvXlzVXlD/s1600/104_5254.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgskQHnX0MEDVD8xG1hsUPz8rKbHXuTddc3wJFu8XlH-O3bYjM1tzSXWOsVrRM9MXi64cnhStJKNrxhkkvCV4bGtNKsqtIEEkdd1D29Nx9ngfc-OfcW47CH7LnCa-jnhDoITBLwvXlzVXlD/s320/104_5254.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Unfortunately, this year I don't get to watch the Eurocup from adorable sidewalk cafés in Saint-Malo (France) in like I did with the World Cup two years ago. So now as I watch someone win (hopefully, Les Bleus...or I'd also be happy if Iceland won), I just have to <u>pretend</u> that I'm still overseas. ...And not feel guilty for having a beer at 11am--it's totally 6pm back in Europe, don't judge me! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0DVO36AzcvUxUrwc8SpG3Fl-NsP2iElIwrO3RKTCHXjwuWNeTUwBI2h039xNI-T9YUfoKXYaMrSR9gMjo1cZxakk1ewpJhKf416AOQj1J9XQ0N4xc-oLdF6Sih55rot2ldcjHemHmEvw/s1600/104_5388.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0DVO36AzcvUxUrwc8SpG3Fl-NsP2iElIwrO3RKTCHXjwuWNeTUwBI2h039xNI-T9YUfoKXYaMrSR9gMjo1cZxakk1ewpJhKf416AOQj1J9XQ0N4xc-oLdF6Sih55rot2ldcjHemHmEvw/s320/104_5388.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Going to a <a href="http://www.alisabroad.com/2014/07/bastille-dayin-america.html">Bastille Day celebration</a> in Chicago's Daley Plaza in July 2014 was just what I needed to assuage my broken heart after having left France extremely unwillingly only a few weeks before. While I no longer need healing from my <a href="http://www.alisabroad.com/2014/07/in-five-years-time.html">breakup with France</a> (or <a href="http://www.alisabroad.com/2015/03/my-changing-feelings-about-spain.html">with Spain</a>, for that matter), a nice celebration does me good no matter what mood I'm in!</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Flowers</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWpO7q9X5IsARWNY_V6Fnw9WfgWFesx69_bPp0D2ZwhBx2LHkGuDIq5ie9qH6XfT94DC9CruL1xbe3bzkA9j9E39udDWOxHgIfLKjphfWQ5sGarVRIJ642k7DnxwsuMFXGA_C5g7h1hJTU/s1600/104_6545.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWpO7q9X5IsARWNY_V6Fnw9WfgWFesx69_bPp0D2ZwhBx2LHkGuDIq5ie9qH6XfT94DC9CruL1xbe3bzkA9j9E39udDWOxHgIfLKjphfWQ5sGarVRIJ642k7DnxwsuMFXGA_C5g7h1hJTU/s320/104_6545.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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If you <a href="https://www.instagram.com/alisabroad/">follow me</a> on Instagram (@alisabroad), you have probably realized that in the months since I've moved back to the States, I've become even more of a nature lover than I was when I took this photo while hiking in Madrid last year. I didn't even know that was possible! I guess that's what happens when nature is so easy to access. Anyway, almost all of the photos I've taken recently have been of flowers. As I said, it's muggy out there, and that dampness is exactly what Midwestern wildflowers need to thrive. So even though I'm not the most comfortable in the wet heat, I'm grateful for the color it brings into my life. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Ice Cream</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWUNJGi3jpv3sVHYOa-bb0k-zloGRWja82CGrI3wVPk0npqpjfn5MnktC1YU38L5rx98Zp732T_ZMZahyphenhyphenS1k5hb468OPWMu5dJSFbVaNGVNDOdy0oIilbEV1FmZvdTN2S7a61mkxKr4co/s1600/104_7043.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWUNJGi3jpv3sVHYOa-bb0k-zloGRWja82CGrI3wVPk0npqpjfn5MnktC1YU38L5rx98Zp732T_ZMZahyphenhyphenS1k5hb468OPWMu5dJSFbVaNGVNDOdy0oIilbEV1FmZvdTN2S7a61mkxKr4co/s320/104_7043.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Last year at this time, I was trying beer-flavored ice cream on a food tour of Krakow, Poland. While that particular ice cream wasn't my favorite, I have a few special local spots by my house that DO make some of the best ice cream in the world (IMHO). But they're only open in the summertime (duh).</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Towering Cornfields</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj22PrS2o5StHQeYzxDEDLi9sYe2YsiBi19KebZylxlj6gq_Iwm0TL1wlzN3OCVHMVGMHdvZ3wiDeY16tWj9KItNrQEbH0MTI13xDC4APOB1Rg3pAD8fI0mTEpfemFhWrUvH6AnAR8XoWBU/s1600/106_7159.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj22PrS2o5StHQeYzxDEDLi9sYe2YsiBi19KebZylxlj6gq_Iwm0TL1wlzN3OCVHMVGMHdvZ3wiDeY16tWj9KItNrQEbH0MTI13xDC4APOB1Rg3pAD8fI0mTEpfemFhWrUvH6AnAR8XoWBU/s320/106_7159.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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You know you were raised by a farming family when the refrain "knee-high by the Fourth of July" means something to you. Yes, for all you non-farmers out there, us Midwesterners know that it's going to be a good year for the corn when it reaches the height of our knees by July 4th. A small rural secret, direct from me to you. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Picking Wild Berries</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgm-sDGwyuoGqXZH8lhQHmQDTiwxud1lGTieMGVqbO3-GJVp25aALr_UDcLgrt22arUFV00dCfaEyahWhzo38lWAoHujIS_MmeT7jI4JC9Y_QtRYAQnngNGBxrIfvUPs8XN2o3QB7mnFi/s1600/10548337_10204688694677684_3544294936232183695_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgm-sDGwyuoGqXZH8lhQHmQDTiwxud1lGTieMGVqbO3-GJVp25aALr_UDcLgrt22arUFV00dCfaEyahWhzo38lWAoHujIS_MmeT7jI4JC9Y_QtRYAQnngNGBxrIfvUPs8XN2o3QB7mnFi/s320/10548337_10204688694677684_3544294936232183695_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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OK, OK, the raspberries in the picture aren't wild at all. But just yesterday I sweated through an entire morning of picking four pints of wild black raspberries in an undisclosed location. And I have the scratches all up and down my arms and legs to prove it! My late grandfather would be so proud. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Peas</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKXZf-8xvx2EQSp2ofAtRg-KTpSY5q5ld08CCPKUFpyntgQgwopX9iiwFpvd_So2xSoAH0Z-C7bAu_0aCyS8-HsjukSbLmEqk-UzIvHPFsBy6QHU9I9UXDsNwL1__LElI-hLH03XwScw22/s1600/20140626_182857.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKXZf-8xvx2EQSp2ofAtRg-KTpSY5q5ld08CCPKUFpyntgQgwopX9iiwFpvd_So2xSoAH0Z-C7bAu_0aCyS8-HsjukSbLmEqk-UzIvHPFsBy6QHU9I9UXDsNwL1__LElI-hLH03XwScw22/s320/20140626_182857.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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The best part of gardening, in my opinion, is fresh-picked sugar snap peas. When I was a kid, I used to eat a whole big bowl of them for lunch, with nothing else! Heaven.</div>
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What is it about eating outside that's so much more appealing than doing it inside? I don't know what it is, but taking my meal outside automatically makes it about 1000x more enjoyable. But due to weather, this is really only possible in (you guessed it) summer!</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Fourth of July</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWmgv2d-qJ7RJ5HYu2eoFELcoAAupVmQlN0HODENXhvuxwVqDgCwE1lsrTROM9wh9WaKsMf1xBCexZcHBek8hySYhTrT-rOuuXfBnQOQboUYKQ48I0Z-7LtVD41My2MMftUye0kD4vo-Dd/s1600/IMG_0239.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWmgv2d-qJ7RJ5HYu2eoFELcoAAupVmQlN0HODENXhvuxwVqDgCwE1lsrTROM9wh9WaKsMf1xBCexZcHBek8hySYhTrT-rOuuXfBnQOQboUYKQ48I0Z-7LtVD41My2MMftUye0kD4vo-Dd/s320/IMG_0239.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ah, the quintessential American holiday, when it's almost considered an act of treason to wear any color other than red, white and blue. I truly detest the song "Proud to Be An American" by Lee Greenwood (which is inevitably played at the celebration every year, and which just as inevitably causes me to start ranting about privilege and misuse of the words "freedom" and "American"). However, as the cursed song plays, I usually try to close my ears and just enjoy the beautiful fireworks lighting up the sky while thinking about all the things I DO love about my homeland. Good cookies are one of them!</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Balconies</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDW625d8gHmQkx4VUXyt8jv_0pieX6UKWfL6dT1rx9Q-PcRi_Qx4SWCaDbg2N4JnFVZfkZxR-QrAVVAQYIfnr1djNZZ6gvw_WAsj-U75HJoPID6jpI6peq-0oskpxgIO01RsIJSzytOTWa/s1600/IMG_3035.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDW625d8gHmQkx4VUXyt8jv_0pieX6UKWfL6dT1rx9Q-PcRi_Qx4SWCaDbg2N4JnFVZfkZxR-QrAVVAQYIfnr1djNZZ6gvw_WAsj-U75HJoPID6jpI6peq-0oskpxgIO01RsIJSzytOTWa/s320/IMG_3035.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Just another thing I miss about Europe. God, what I wouldn't do for a nice glass of <i>tinto de verano</i> on a Spanish balcony right about now. Of course, even if I had a balcony here, it would be completely useless 9 months out of the year, and which is the real winner between a tiny balcony and a gigantic backyard, anyway?</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Visiting Friends</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyDaH3x5IYq97P32Z4euSDJUypntnwnsAdgptzmnTU2ulvZLQwXjk6GkYarIhWHGz7y-3qbZa-7uefn9YM-wr5Ky5Px0SJSuO6bg5pR_Wwmf6ttG9SNC5kCznk7zBjdK1vwQ-x5p2fbYbE/s1600/IMG_4646.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyDaH3x5IYq97P32Z4euSDJUypntnwnsAdgptzmnTU2ulvZLQwXjk6GkYarIhWHGz7y-3qbZa-7uefn9YM-wr5Ky5Px0SJSuO6bg5pR_Wwmf6ttG9SNC5kCznk7zBjdK1vwQ-x5p2fbYbE/s320/IMG_4646.jpg" width="178" /></a></div>
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Last summer, I spent a few weeks visiting one of my very best friends down in Mexico. She showed me all her favorite spots, and I was reminded what a good time summer is for visiting friends that are scattered all around the world! I'll have to remember that for NEXT summer when I'm planning my vacation.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Renaissance Faire</b></span></div>
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Nerd alert! Yes, one of my favorite parts of summer is going to a historical festival full of people dressed up in period costume pretending like it's the Year of our Lord 1574. And yes, sometimes when it's not too hot, I go in costume as well. Because I am a nerd. And proud of it!</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Farmer's Markets</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQdnVPhgwXpThiwzCRyQuhH8w75Bosk7uhz1UMo9_Wo1aedrX3brYapULjBhET2mME_eXRjgpaaf3B-XLOkVEMhdPUpPz5q08AoVfQ5gY41_LUwIvu3pG7Jw3RLBcBXc86VI16s0do7IN/s1600/IMG_4887.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQdnVPhgwXpThiwzCRyQuhH8w75Bosk7uhz1UMo9_Wo1aedrX3brYapULjBhET2mME_eXRjgpaaf3B-XLOkVEMhdPUpPz5q08AoVfQ5gY41_LUwIvu3pG7Jw3RLBcBXc86VI16s0do7IN/s320/IMG_4887.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
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Though nothing could beat selling sweet corn out of the back of my grandpa's van when I was a little girl, going to farmer's markets as an adult reminds me of days gone by. At this one last year in Madison, they even had <i>pementos de Padrón</i>, those little green Galician peppers that are sometimes spicy and sometimes <i>non. </i>But as I found out (much to the disappointment of my tastebuds), when they're grown in America, Padrón peppers are ALWAYS spicy, and not just a little bit. Ew. <i>No me gusta. </i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Festivals</b></span></div>
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We don't have as many saint days in America as they do in Spain. (Scratch that, we don't have ANY saint days in America...even though I tried to celebrate San Juan last week with a gigantic bonfire in my backyard.) We don't celebrate Corpus Cristi by filling the streets with flower petals and salt crystals in intricately beautiful patterns like they do in A Guarda, Galicia. But we do have local festivals, carnivals, and county fairs. While these aren't as culturally interesting to me personally as Spanish festivals, they ARE the place to go if you want to eat any-food-you-can-think-of-fried-and-put-on-a-stick. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Sunshine and Laughter</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUBI8YUNh2JPmZc2gFDG4Y5tPK17TiVI39xzrfdTR4vQy7t_Eei4PV9rIBsqjh0DWQhlX3rYOSVUky1vLhKlQKnkAGxMRJgOKHb2h6s04NXYMftbxmNwwYVA14vMRBApD-0zg3Hoy8ibk5/s1600/IMG_9276.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUBI8YUNh2JPmZc2gFDG4Y5tPK17TiVI39xzrfdTR4vQy7t_Eei4PV9rIBsqjh0DWQhlX3rYOSVUky1vLhKlQKnkAGxMRJgOKHb2h6s04NXYMftbxmNwwYVA14vMRBApD-0zg3Hoy8ibk5/s320/IMG_9276.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Finally, I come to truly the best part of summer. No matter where I'm spending those long hot days, this is what I want to be doing. I want to be out in the sunshine with friends, laughing until my sides hurt. Is there any better way to pass the time?</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>How do YOU love spending the lazy hazy crazy days of summer? </b></span></div>
<br />Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-23280793408822686402016-02-16T05:20:00.000+01:002016-03-08T04:17:36.041+01:00Paris, Je Te...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last night, as I was getting ready to go to bed, I was suddenly struck by the urge to have <i>une</i> <i>infusion</i> and some Speculoos to dip in it. As the smell of the hot tea's steam mixed with spicy cookie crumbs wafted toward my nose, a Proustian involuntary memory suddenly leaped into my mind, one of many evenings spent in a similar manner huddling in the kitchen of my 18th-century French apartment, trying to shut out the cold damp winds of a rainy Brittany winter. </div>
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As I was remembering things past in France, my mind wandered and I got to thinking about how at precisely this time three years ago I was there, gaining a new perspective, not on Brittany (which I dearly love), but on one of my <u>least</u> favorite parts of the country.</div>
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It was Valentine's weekend. Because Spain is amazing and people there work to live rather than vice versa, I had a couple of days off for <i>Carnaval</i>, and I was very excited. Being that I was a weary singleton, I wanted to escape the lovey-dovey couples all around me and go on an "I love you, self" getaway. So since <strike>I am a masochist</strike> I had a burning desire to see the timbered houses of Strasbourg, I of course booked a budget flight to the most romantic of all cities--Paris. </div>
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After arriving in Paris late on a Friday evening and basically just crashing, the next day I used my brand-new first-ever <i>douze vingt-cinq </i>SNCF train card to get over to Strasbourg for much less money than anticipated. But freezing my bum off for an unexpectedly snowy two days in the timbered city pushed me to decide to cut my trip short. </div>
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Strasbourg's Petite France looked like something out of Harry Potter, but wet frozen feet combined with happy couples everywhere had me feeling pretty crummy! </div>
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So I soon found myself back in Paris again with a few days to kill before my flight back to Vigo, knowing no one and having no real plans. For many people and most francophiles in particular, an unexpected couple of days in Paris sounds like a dream come true. </div>
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Not me, though. Ever the aberrant, I have to admit: <b>I've never really liked Paris</b>. </div>
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Meh...</div>
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Sure, as a kid before I'd ever been there I used to dream of <i>café au lait</i> in bohemian cafés along the Seine, strolling the Champs-Élysées in chic outfits, having a picnic in front of the Eiffel Tower. </div>
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And then at sixteen, I went and I got rudely bumped on the sidewalk, saw a fire in the street, and told that my accent in French was <i>horrible et incompréhensible. </i>(This was probably true, at least when I was in high school and had never actually spoken to a real live French person before). I went again several years later and was given counterfeit Euros, slept in a hostel with bedbugs, narrowly avoided being pickpocketed, and witnessed a scary accident in front of <i>l'Arc de Triomphe</i>. Just last year, I got caught in terribly stressful rush hour traffic with my parents, then was propositioned marriage in a gas station by a clerk who still refused to take my American non-chip credit card. (How rude, amirite!?)</div>
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In fact, my second-scariest moment as a single female traveler happened in Paris (a story I'd tell, if it didn't make me queasy just thinking about what could have happened to me--thank god nothing did). </div>
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My plethora of icky memories of dirty smelly rude old Paris is only vindicated by the overabundance of non-<i>parisien </i>French people I've met who share my opinions (including nearly all my <i>breton </i>students)!</div>
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But still, on this particular Valentine's weekend, I tried to give Paris another chance to charm me, at the very least because I was stuck there for a couple of days and had nothing better to do. So I booked a room at a cute little Montmartre hostel whose name I don't remember and set out on a walk. </div>
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I was in great luck, because just as I was gravitating towards the Moulin Rouge, the Baz Luhrmann film about which first inspired me to study French back in 2001, I saw a group of people congregating by a young man holding up an orange sign that said "Free Montmartre Tour!" </div>
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Intrigued, broke, and bored, I moved closer and hastily decided to join them just as they were about to leave. </div>
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The guide, it turns out, was an American with a French mother who had recently decided to rediscover his roots and had come to study at the American University of Paris. As he took us around the most interesting spots of Montmartre, he regaled us with stories of feeling strange in Paris because the French he spoke was only suitable for talking to little old ladies, and how he felt lost amongst his peers, who used <i>verlan</i> and peppered their speech with Arabic words and SMS abbreviations. I could relate, having learned formal French from textbooks and teachers who had studied abroad there decades ago. </div>
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Not only were the guy's stories interesting, he took us to places in Montmartre that I hadn't come across in my previous visits and told us about the history of the village, which I'd never heard before. As we moved from the market behind the <i>Sacré-Cœur </i>to the original pre-19th-century mills that gave the Moulin Rouge nightclub its name, from Van Gogh's old apartment to the café where <i>Amélie</i> worked, I began to remember what it was about Paris that had attracted me in the first place.</div>
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Actually, it wasn't "Paris" at all, but that little village nearby on <i>la butte </i>that was once the center of <i>la vie bohème</i>, and still houses the best view I've ever had of all of the city (even if the locals <b>do</b> think that the <i>Sacré-Cœur </i>is an eyesore). </div>
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I ended up meeting some fellow travelers on that Montmartre tour who took me first to an art show in a warehouse, then to some of their favorite Parisian spots for dinner later in the evening. The whole night was such a positive experience that, eager to compound it, I decided to join the full Paris tour with the same company the next day, which ended up being private because no one else showed up! </div>
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That Valentine's weekend is, to date, the only time I've ever felt anything approaching love for Paris. It's amazing what one tiny good experience can do to your feelings! </div>
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Still, you'll have to excuse me for not jumping to proclaim <i>‹‹Paris, je t'aime!›› </i>That one weekend helped my opinions change from ‹‹<i>Paris, je te déteste›› </i>to ‹‹<i>Paris je te...(je ne sais pas.)›› </i>I feel apathetic about the city now more than anything else, and it's still probably my least favorite part of France in general. It's better than outright hate, but I don't see Paris ever being on my favorite worldwide cities list.</div>
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However, in the spirit of <i>verité, beauté, liberté et amour, </i>I have no qualms whatsoever about shouting over the rooftops <i>‹‹Montmartre, je t'aime!››</i></div>
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...And hey, since it IS on a hill, it shouldn't be too hard to get myself back there one day to do exactly that! </div>
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Kidding.</div>
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But Montmartre, my love, I'm certain that we will meet again one day. You're worth the effort, even if I <b>do</b> have to brave yucky old Paris to get to you.</div>
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<i>Mon valentin, Montmartre</i></div>
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<i><b>By the way, in case you all were wondering, the orange-signed tour company's name is <a href="http://www.culturefishtours.com/">Culturefish</a>, and I'd highly recommend their free tours of both Montmartre and central Paris. And no, they have no idea that I'm writing this...I just took their tours three years ago and have been meaning to promote them to people ever since! Timely, I know. ;-)</b></i></div>
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Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-39925247002772691632016-02-08T04:12:00.000+01:002016-02-16T05:24:51.969+01:00In Defense of Being Boring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For the past several years, this was the time of year that the anxiety started. When the probing questions began pouring in. "So what are your plans for next year? What are you going to do after your contract ends?" And being that I never had the slightest clue, I felt panic. Some people are good at and even enjoy flying by the seat of their pants, not planning out their lives in advance.<br />
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I'm not one of them.<br />
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I like the idea of security, of knowing what's next. I really like to have a solid plan in place.<br />
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This personality trait doesn't mesh so well with being a nomad, as you might imagine. So every year around this time, as fear of the future crept up on me and I stared that great wide unknown right in the face, my panic would turn verbal and I would begin to muse aloud to all the people close to me about my possibilities, the pros and cons of each, and what they thought I should do. (This sounds really annoying, but luckily the majority of my vagabond friends were going through the same thing, so I like to think I lent an ear just as much as I abused theirs!)<br />
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Last year, one day when I was moaning about the difficulty of having to make an enormous life choice EVERY SINGLE YEAR, one of my friends said I should remember that, although I had to make these big choices once a year, other people were choosing every single day to be boring and not do anything with their lives. At least I was out there seeing the world while going through these yearly crises!<br />
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I'm not really sure what exactly she meant by "boring," and I wouldn't presume to speak for her on the subject. But I know exactly what it meant to me.<br />
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Those "boring" people went to the same 9-5 job every day and sat around watching TV at night. They went to the same restaurants over and over, and they got enormously overexcited about unimpressive things like home improvements and the occasional night out with friends.<br />
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In short, they were living a life remarkably similar to the one I lead right now. Boring.<br />
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The life I have right now is exactly the one I was afraid of having this time a year ago. I worked so hard every year to find a way to stay abroad, partially because of the fun I was having there, but also because I was afraid of what would happen if I came back. I had based my identity around being "better" than all the people who had never left my home country. I perceived myself as more interesting than them because I was abroad, seeing the world and having adventures. And if I came back, if I became one of the "boring," then how would I be able to maintain that perception of myself as superior?<br />
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I think in the travel community, this is a common misapprehension. "We travel the world, so we are more interesting than you. Quit your day job, and you too can become interesting and therefore happy!"<br />
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But I've noticed lately there is true contentment to be found, not in making life exciting (though some of that is nice too), but in appreciating the good parts of life exactly the way it is. Noticing those tiny amazing moments of every day.<br />
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This weekend, for example, was a great weekend, even though I did nothing particularly exciting. I worked on a surprise present for my dad's 70th birthday (a sneak preview of which is on my Instagram, but Dad if you're reading this please don't look!), I hung around a little with my cute nephews, I went swing dancing with a friend, I went running in the wonderfully mild 0ºC weather, I had a lovely extended stretching session, I sat around in the warm sunshine watching the clouds go by, and I wrote a nice long letter to someone I care about back in Europe.<br />
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To the me of a year ago, I guess that would have been dull because it didn't involve a whirlwind weekend trip to a foreign country. But right now I'm really appreciating all the things I can only do because I'm here at home, close to those I love, choosing every day to be uninteresting and no more special than anyone else.<br />
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I faced my big fear; I came back and became one of the boring. And in reality, it's really not so bad. I may not view myself as "superior" to other people anymore, but I do feel more comfortable just being myself, and I think that's what's more important in the end.<br />
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<br />Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-4824597056878323442015-12-31T23:48:00.000+01:002015-12-31T23:48:38.470+01:002015: A Year in TravelThough I moved back home to the States in 2015, before that I actually did a LOT of traveling. After finishing my Master's degree in Spain, I took off on a 6-week trip that spanned six new countries on two continents. I saw so many new places, learned so many new things...and then never wrote a word about any of it.<br />
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"Why not?" you may be wondering. I have no good answer to that question, or at least none that makes me feel good about myself. I wanted to, but I was overwhelmed. I tried to, but I felt too sad and uninspired to write. And then it was months later, there was so much to do to catch up, and it just felt easier to write about the present than to scrounge up the past.<br />
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But what is New Years for, if not to remember the best parts of the previous year, and hope to top them in the next one?<br />
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So without further ado, a remembrance of all the beautiful trips I took in 2015, as I dream of the places I might go in the year to come.<br />
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I actually started off 2015 abroad, celebrating by myself in an Airbnb in Nîmes, France and lamenting that the French don't know how to party like Spaniards do. I ate 12 raisins at midnight, a testament both to the Spanish tradition and the fact that there weren't any grapes to be found in the French Carrefour at that time of year.<br />
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Next up was an ill-fated trip to Marseille, which I hated despite its beauty. I was once again staying in an Airbnb, this time with an older French couple who seemed to go out of their way to make me feel subordinate and uncomfortable. "<i>C'est pas mangeable</i>," they said about the (apparently inferior quality) bread and cheese I had brought to share with them at dinnertime, "It's inedible." They took me to see the <i>calanques</i> (fjords) the next day, then spent the entire time talking to each other about people I didn't know, kissing, giggling, and ignoring me.<br />
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I was glad to get out on my own exploring downtown Marseille the next day, even if they had scared me with warnings about how I would almost certainly get my pockets picked by "foreigners" (whatever that means) and to not stray outside the heavily touristed areas. I appreciated their intent to help, but was even happier the following day when I could escape their unpleasant company and get back to my own place in Alcalá de Henares. </div>
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In Alcalá, I watched <i>la cabalgata de los reyes </i>(the Three Kings Day parade) on my way back to my apartment, and appreciated running into my little students on the streets, their eyes lit up from the magic of seeing their idols (and their version of Santa Claus) in person. Then I headed home and celebrated myself, with pizza and ice cream! </div>
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The next few months were filled with little international travel, as my weekends became devoted to writing my thesis and planning interactive lessons. But I still managed to have some little adventures, like hiking the madrileñan mountains a few times in El Escorial and Cercedilla, and exploring the downtown of Madrid, a city I'd always disliked but which was beginning to grow on me.<br />
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El Escorial</div>
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Cercedilla</div>
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The mountains of Alcalá</div>
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Winter in <i>El Retiro</i>, Madrid</div>
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I even got away for a few weekends, on short trips to see the <i>casas colgadas de Cuenca</i> (the hanging houses of Cuenca), and a return visit to Segovia's Roman aqueduct. As much as I would have hated to admit it at the time, there are some really stunning spots within a few hours' drive of Madrid! </div>
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Finally, in April I was able to return "home," or at least to the place where a large piece of my heart will always reside--Galicia. Eating delicious seafood, hearing sing-songy <i>galego</i> in my ears, standing on rocky cliffs and feeling the sharp salty sting of the sea's cool breeze--it meant so much, will always mean so much, for me to be back there, even if only for a short time. </div>
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In April I was also able to see Madrid through new eyes, as I showed it to a friend visiting from Germany. I had never realized until that very moment, as I was walking her around town and saying "This is where I...Over there my friends and I...," just how many memories I had really made in Madrid over the years. Inadvertently, while claiming to hate it all the time, I had actually grown quite fond of Madrid, where so many different things had happened to me! </div>
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Spanish kings</div>
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Madrid's Plaza Mayor</div>
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In May I had another weekend getaway, this time to Cataluña and my very first blogging conference--TBEX. While there, my eyes were opened to a whole new world of professional bloggers. I explored a little, learned a lot, made a few connections, but mostly ate and ate and ate until I couldn't eat any more. Open buffets are dangerous, y'all. </div>
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Everyone was impressed with my intimate knowledge of <i>queimada</i>, a Galician specialty! </div>
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(thanks to Linda for the picture)</div>
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Later in the month, I also got to go away for a few days on a field trip with several hundred of my students, again to the mountains surrounding Madrid. Mostly these few days were spent eating until I was ready to burst, then napping, but we did also do some hiking in the flower-covered hills.</div>
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Somehow, I don't know how, in the midst of all of this (which seems like a lot now, though it didn't at the time), I was able to finish my thesis, get through all my coursework, finish teaching, and graduate! Our June graduation from one of Spain's oldest universities was held in the same room where <i>el rey</i>, the King of Spain, gives away the Cervantes prize for literature each year. Our certificates may not hold <u>quite</u> the same prestige worldwide, but it still meant a lot to me!</div>
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A toast: to graduation!!</div>
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As June drew to a close, I set off on my 6-week adventure, first meeting my parents in Copenhagen. From there, a side trip to Malmö, Sweden was in order. Both were beautiful, but we soon realized that these Nordic countries were costing us ridiculous amounts--$80 for a shared meal at a Mexican restaurant was enough to send us packing! </div>
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Frederiksborg Castle, Denmark</div>
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Malmö's town hall</div>
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Where did we go but another Nordic country (silly, I know)--Finland! At least we were back on the Euro, but we couldn't figure out anything beyond <i>kiitos</i> (thank you) in one of the more difficult languages on the European continent. We enjoyed ourselves, but I felt silly for going to a country with expansive wilderness and then only seeing the capital city! Next time, next time. </div>
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Helsinki's Lutheran Cathedral</div>
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From there we took a ferry to the magical fairyland (see what I did there?) of Tallinn, Estonia. Suddenly everything seemed ten times more beautiful than it had in the countries we had visited previously, and exploring the walled city felt at times like being in Disney's Epcot--too beautiful to be real. </div>
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I was loathe to leave Tallinn after such a short few days, but another new country was calling us, and this time we took a bus to Riga, Latvia. The name "Latvia" to me always conjures up images of people in monochrome clothes, living their lives in crumbling-yet-uniform Soviet apartment blocks. And yet, the architecture in Riga would not have been out-of-place anywhere in Germany! Riga was full of surprises, not least when my mother and I went into a Russian Orthodox Cathedral to admire the beautiful paintwork and got accidentally caught up in a service. We had to don headscarves and quickly stand and emulate the people making the sign of the cross, bowing facing the priest as he moved about the room swinging incense. Eventually we bowed our way out of there, then took a quick selfie to remember the crazy experience!</div>
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Vilnius, Lithuania was another surprise, managing to be off-the-wall crazy, delicious, cheap, unique, and yet still somehow a crumbling town straight out of the Italian Renaissance. I enjoyed our time there, but would have liked to have had more time to sit tranquilly in cafés, having a pint and eating potato pancakes covered in sour cream. Still, while in Lithuania we got to see Trakai Castle, one of the more beautiful castles I've seen so far! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTbmEHpKY5x_CS2vD1mPn2p_6AhH5qV43_4X_EvWyfDNCAvxg_mtMvgYUPwHizG0m49CA-rP-ORklKchJYKVm6whZOVGs9cpslRPYDwTeEu56WVtXWlW4RN8NL4W9FOmPOgdr5tIvleT-k/s1600/104_6774.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTbmEHpKY5x_CS2vD1mPn2p_6AhH5qV43_4X_EvWyfDNCAvxg_mtMvgYUPwHizG0m49CA-rP-ORklKchJYKVm6whZOVGs9cpslRPYDwTeEu56WVtXWlW4RN8NL4W9FOmPOgdr5tIvleT-k/s320/104_6774.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Soon we were on the move again, to Poland, where we learned about the horrors of World War II, took a Crazy Commie tour in a Trabant (a plastic car from communist times), and ate many delicious pierogi. Oh, and saw one of the most gorgeous churches I've ever seen in my life, in Krakow!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwlUf_7YcpnU_zmW6e-vZdWcU9vD1lp2kOH9E-M24Rw6W3IxxcX3KQXM6b82T8zcbd7tdBMoCTqmAVdUCBVZsXTehrT-c8i8ozzZ2MpeYXKhy2EsfG9mIlTstHn81TiAhrkeUhuvbYfgSK/s1600/104_6866.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwlUf_7YcpnU_zmW6e-vZdWcU9vD1lp2kOH9E-M24Rw6W3IxxcX3KQXM6b82T8zcbd7tdBMoCTqmAVdUCBVZsXTehrT-c8i8ozzZ2MpeYXKhy2EsfG9mIlTstHn81TiAhrkeUhuvbYfgSK/s320/104_6866.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Wawel Cathedral, Krakow</div>
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After then showing my parents around Alcalá de Henares in some of the hottest temperatures they'd experienced in their lives (45ºC/113ºF, and my apartment without air conditioning!), it was time to say goodbye to them and fly off on my own separate adventure to a new part of the world--Mexico! There I was reunited with my one-and-only wonderful Roomie, who graciously showed me all the best that her country has to offer for two whole weeks. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHux2B_umwqCQUdg6WXJo8M6nSBlr8w-heE0dZhRjyvJrJ2aguTiNz8vz5FwHFILoSI5J9ybuuS5bgicXCEDIh21SiYJO-IF9XkxT0uwkqB5XvrlGAQ3HEZ4Tza63xYyfwyA-s_l-ORhsd/s1600/11237568_10153499846543428_2779185542290269485_o.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHux2B_umwqCQUdg6WXJo8M6nSBlr8w-heE0dZhRjyvJrJ2aguTiNz8vz5FwHFILoSI5J9ybuuS5bgicXCEDIh21SiYJO-IF9XkxT0uwkqB5XvrlGAQ3HEZ4Tza63xYyfwyA-s_l-ORhsd/s320/11237568_10153499846543428_2779185542290269485_o.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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To say that Mexico was a shock would be an understatement--from eating delicious <i>tacos al pastor,</i> seeing ancient Mayan ruins, and gossiping about boys with one of my BFFs, to witnessing a terrifying car crash, nearly fainting from heat exhaustion in a Cancun Walmart, and being told that my <i>castellano</i> from Spain makes me sound rude to latinos, <i>México fue una experiencia. </i></div>
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And then, suddenly, after 6 weeks on the road, living life out of a small backpack, at the end of August I was back in my childhood bedroom, surrounded by the many vestiges of a life once lived there, jobless and with WAY too much free time. </div>
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The next few months saw me do almost zero travel, the farthest I got being a Baha'i temple in Evanston, IL in one direction, and our family farm in Wisconsin in the other, with a stop at a Madison farmer's market in-between. At the farm I did get to ride on my uncle's powered parachute over the countryside, so that was at least something! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWnYLxQYABFAj-DdtTOen2HvzSjzSzoslLqJWPy1zH0g73-e2bQYCUjhJ54xBOKYgjCHc3Ljz-HSKV-kLL73WlbTVWNnYMv4cS15itwObGXYLStAqz3iJq6L5G_R15I5gV6Auw_tVlGJN/s1600/IMG_4848.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWnYLxQYABFAj-DdtTOen2HvzSjzSzoslLqJWPy1zH0g73-e2bQYCUjhJ54xBOKYgjCHc3Ljz-HSKV-kLL73WlbTVWNnYMv4cS15itwObGXYLStAqz3iJq6L5G_R15I5gV6Auw_tVlGJN/s320/IMG_4848.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Who knew there were such beautiful things in Evanston??</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWnYLxQYABFAj-DdtTOen2HvzSjzSzoslLqJWPy1zH0g73-e2bQYCUjhJ54xBOKYgjCHc3Ljz-HSKV-kLL73WlbTVWNnYMv4cS15itwObGXYLStAqz3iJq6L5G_R15I5gV6Auw_tVlGJN/s1600/IMG_4848.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKTRMl-F9NZox2VuMF_JC7LqPkHTorA0beZCDeXzpvUpZcwMJLgeYueFJqjEh5XbyEhl-BOjbecDUj1lDEtIVHR1eHmlph7eldOyhZzbAwyi8CNg3LCcK1XAffqqZ4_LZVrh91OkgnzFVC/s1600/IMG_4887.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKTRMl-F9NZox2VuMF_JC7LqPkHTorA0beZCDeXzpvUpZcwMJLgeYueFJqjEh5XbyEhl-BOjbecDUj1lDEtIVHR1eHmlph7eldOyhZzbAwyi8CNg3LCcK1XAffqqZ4_LZVrh91OkgnzFVC/s320/IMG_4887.jpg" width="249" /></a></div>
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Madison had <i>pimientos de padrón</i>!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6aK0FAM-JgRtnxcCCJlXzi_UGlJ4dujvNoaRBxa2zxFBbjbT-qDEGrQAl8s5NSZiT-Z9ZE-RQzOr8oIIN5SLcjMXHQAe2WfDQoCg9uQvFKeXnArzGsXbuxcJMAsqMaRaX5xpVJUgVuYXC/s1600/106_7159.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6aK0FAM-JgRtnxcCCJlXzi_UGlJ4dujvNoaRBxa2zxFBbjbT-qDEGrQAl8s5NSZiT-Z9ZE-RQzOr8oIIN5SLcjMXHQAe2WfDQoCg9uQvFKeXnArzGsXbuxcJMAsqMaRaX5xpVJUgVuYXC/s320/106_7159.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Western Wisconsin=farms forever!</div>
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And then, in September I got a job and I REALLY wasn't traveling, except in my own backyard to bike around and shoot fall leaves (and later, snow).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW2S7uaPnIzlY_DsfOI0gE2i3jzf1eDkbOR48zXlomTvuTn-tOFuRxRSnJvO8GpIJoVXu0ZiPwLTv-ZaDdHfibCnM7XASyWtkZHh_2AOKIbd7PdPdWAcQbRjpwakGUDFenIppVsZb2gHRh/s1600/106_7250.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW2S7uaPnIzlY_DsfOI0gE2i3jzf1eDkbOR48zXlomTvuTn-tOFuRxRSnJvO8GpIJoVXu0ZiPwLTv-ZaDdHfibCnM7XASyWtkZHh_2AOKIbd7PdPdWAcQbRjpwakGUDFenIppVsZb2gHRh/s320/106_7250.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Still, I got to have a cozy Thanksgiving with my big family in a cabin in West Virginia, hosted by ACE Adventure Resorts, hot tubbing and having a fierce cookie competition. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOFNNQofPGOfcg1p9_h87Pfwl6ial4lJFenDQIrm6mwe2PnFRud3GDW-4DgGX9lhyphenhyphenYSBDeQOQip4YOwiRqZDO5iidxBjjDtFayJTNeDTQke8GiOoVNdPiuGZJlFRN3d-O_3BN1XHcukqHW/s1600/106_7388.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOFNNQofPGOfcg1p9_h87Pfwl6ial4lJFenDQIrm6mwe2PnFRud3GDW-4DgGX9lhyphenhyphenYSBDeQOQip4YOwiRqZDO5iidxBjjDtFayJTNeDTQke8GiOoVNdPiuGZJlFRN3d-O_3BN1XHcukqHW/s320/106_7388.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Lucky for me, even when I'm working all the time, one of my favorite cities in the world is only a short train ride away, and I can go there whenever I please, and the last few months have seen me make a few trips down (though perhaps not as many as I would wish)!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLGWk2zMb2iSAYcRZlAPcibE1FAQ8g1wEHMxr_2uLFiNspIwtEDfXyzbN-TNjC7Vb95QFT4C8ZRjNhU8RNWk1RaPvNEybzzXCkH9plResztrkNLaA74IOZKFLXqzdhuSzZK5j4IvoI7yDr/s1600/IMG_5013.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLGWk2zMb2iSAYcRZlAPcibE1FAQ8g1wEHMxr_2uLFiNspIwtEDfXyzbN-TNjC7Vb95QFT4C8ZRjNhU8RNWk1RaPvNEybzzXCkH9plResztrkNLaA74IOZKFLXqzdhuSzZK5j4IvoI7yDr/s320/IMG_5013.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Can you guess which city it is?</div>
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I'm so fortunate that when I'm feeling bored or lonely or just in need of a jolt of electricity into my veins, Chicago is always there to wake me up and make me feel alive. At Christmastime this year, I was pleased to be able to check out the Christkindlmarkt in Daley Plaza (and feel at least a little bit like I was back in Europe), see the Nutcracker performed by the Joffrey ballet, and see "my" city decked out in Christmas finery.</div>
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As I have plans to spend New Years Eve tonight with old friends in my tiny Illinois village, it looks like Chicago was my last real "trip" of the year. As I look back, I realize I've done an awful lot of traveling in 2015, even though I would characterize it as a rather calm year, filled with lots of work. It's strange, that. As I'm constantly being made aware again and again, it's hard to see the forest for the trees, at least while you're surrounded by them. But as you're exiting, suddenly the majesty of the wide wood settles upon you, and you realize what a great voyage it was to make it all the way through. </div>
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Thanks for accompanying me in my travels this year, and I'll see you all on the other side! </div>
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<i>Feliz año nuevo, bonne année, próspero aninovo</i>, and HAPPY NEW YEAR! </div>
Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-74263647563935159822015-11-22T04:47:00.001+01:002015-11-22T04:47:21.307+01:00The Delight of My First Real Snowstorm in 5 Years<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been waiting 5 years for a day like today. Last night, just as I was about to leave work, I spied few big beautiful fluffy snowflakes starting to fall from the sky, so I called the kids over to the window to see. Their gleeful grins and shouts of delight matched my own--the first snow of the year is a magical moment, one that I haven't been able to experience since 2010.<br />
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The snow started to fall more thickly as I drove home, flakes obscuring my view and whizzing past the windshield like stars past the Milennium Falcon, and yet I couldn't keep the smile off of my face. Finally, my favorite season is here--winter!<br />
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This morning when I woke up, I rushed to my bedroom window to find the scene below transformed, wiped clean, made perfect by the snow. So many times in the years I was away from home I'd dreamed of being able to have that exact moment of waking up to find the world outside blanketed in white, and experiencing it now I felt like a little kid again, made giddy by the snow.<br />
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Like Lorelai Gilmore (<i>Gilmore Girls</i>), snow and I have a history that goes WAY back. Some of my life's biggest moments have happened in the snow, including the day I was born. Maybe that's why I feel such a deep connection with snow, but all I know is that it fills my heart with a joy few other things do.<br />
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So during those 5 years that I was living in Europe without snow, I tried to appreciate the winter walks on the beach in the sun, or the days I could go outside in no more than just a sweater. But really, my soul was aching for a day like today.<br />
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A day where I went downstairs to make myself a hot beverage and found my mom stuffing a turkey and baking Christmas cookies. One where I spent the whole morning in the kitchen with her, licking batter-filled beaters and eating cookies fresh out of the oven. One where I watched the snow fall outside the cozy kitchen, measuring it as the day went on (16 in or 41cm by the time it stopped). One where we were snowed in and felt no pressing need to leave the snug warm house all day long.<br />
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I'd been nervous in the past few weeks, anticipating the cold of my first real winter since 2010. But I'd completely forgotten the delight that winter brings, the enjoyment of putting up Christmas lights and drinking hot cocoa and sledding and skiing and building snowmen and spending quality time inside with family.<br />
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It's so cliché, but for me it's absolutely true--winter is the most wonderful time of the year, and right now I'm so glad to be at home in this winter wonderland.<br />
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<br />Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-7574864483520897462015-11-17T05:24:00.000+01:002015-11-17T05:24:57.441+01:00Snapshots of Autumns Past and Autumn PresentI've <a href="http://www.alisabroad.com/2015/11/in-which-i-am-mildly-obsessed-with-fall.html">already</a> talked in here about how overly interested I am in autumn colors. Even though those are totally gone here now, I haven't quite gotten over wanting to look at them. The other day, while looking at old photos, I kept going back to the ones that featured beautiful fall scenes in various places I've been in the world, and I really wanted to share (mostly because my wanderlust is pretty epic right now and the only cure seems to be reminding myself of my awesome past travels). But since there are so many lovely autumn vistas from such different points in time, with about a million stories to go along with them, I started to feel overwhelmed about trying to write a blog post that could do them all justice! As I just don't have the <i>ganas </i>to do that at the moment, and since I'd also like to give an idea of how my life is going <b>right now</b>, I'm just going to let you all look at the pretty fall pictures while I give a written snapshot of my lately.<br />
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Bermeo, Basque Country (Spain)</div>
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Recently, I've been:<br />
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<b>Reading: </b><i>El Príncipe Caspian</i> (Prince Caspian), of the Narnia series, <i>en español.</i> I read all these books when I was a kid and really loved them, so when I found a copy of one in Spanish at the local used bookstore, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to relive old times while also brushing up on my <i>castellano</i> (necessary now that I'm a Spanish teacher)! I don't get a lot of other opportunities to stretch my Spanish vocabulary these days, so I'm glad I'll always have books to help me out.<br />
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Somewhere in the Highlands (Scotland)</div>
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<b>Listening to: </b>I'm almost embarrassed to admit this...the Frozen soundtrack, <i>en français</i>. What, it's empowering to sing along to <i>Liberée, delivrée </i>as I drive to work, and at least I'm not forgetting <b>all</b> the French I once knew! Can't help being a #languagenerd4life (plus, you know, a regular nerd as well).<br />
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Denali National Park, Alaska (USA)</div>
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<b>Worrying about:</b> How to get good, cheap health insurance in the States. I know this sounds like an oxymoron, but after living in Europe for 5 years I've become used to not paying an arm and a leg to maintain my health. This is one of the things that drives me craziest about America, that nobody seems to have figured this out here yet. Yes, Obamacare is trying to make things better, but even that is confusing and kind of a mess. Help?<br />
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Vigo, Galicia (Spain)</div>
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<b>Trying to:</b> Properly equip myself for the coming winter. I have to spend several hours outside every day now for work, and while we've had <i>suerte</i> with the weather so far, the forecast says it may snow sometime in the next week. On the one hand, YAY pretty snow, on the other, OH NO I don't have any good boots and wet frozen feet are the worst. Boo.<br />
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Stratford-Upon-Avon (England)</div>
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<b>Watching:</b> Jane the Virgin. The reintroduction of Netflix into my life has brought a sudden burst of knowledge about currently popular TV shows. While in Europe, I barely watched TV and never had any idea about what the good new shows were, but now that I'm back and consumerism has invaded my life, I've become addicted to shows like Jane the Virgin. I feel both silly that I'm so into a dramatic <i>telenovela</i> and at the same time completely invested in what crazy incidents next week's show will bring. At least one of the characters only speaks in Spanish, so I'm technically practicing?<br />
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Bayona, Galicia (Spain)</div>
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<b>Eating:</b> Kielbasa. I've been very into Polish things lately, after my second visit to the country this past summer. It was a nice way to connect with my roots, as I, like so many Illinoisians, have a certain amount of Polish ancestry. Since that is a common ethnicity in this area, there are a fair number of traditional Polish goods in the grocery stores here. So I've been stuffing my face to my heart's content with kielbasa (Polish sausage) and not thinking twice about it.<br />
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Porto (Portugal)</div>
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<b>Craving: </b>real bread, good coffee, <i>tortilla española</i>, crunchy müesli, and a million more things! There is just nowhere around here that can make a baguette that tastes anything like actual bread. American sliced bread is just so...sugary! I'd really love a crusty slice of fresh warm baguette with some <i>beurre salé </i>spread on top. Oh, that's another thing...good butter! We always want what we can't have, I know. Last year at this time I desperately wanted a piece of real deep-dish pizza. Now all I can think about is quality European food made with fresh ingredients. <i>C'est la vie. </i><br />
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Cañones do Sil, Galicia (Spain)</div>
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<b>Missing: </b>My friends over on the other side of the pond. I have good friends here too, of course, but a lot of Americans just don't identify with my stories about voyaging through Europe and speaking foreign languages, and I miss seeing the people that I shared good times with over there. I don't know when I'll be back on that continent again, unfortunately, but maybe I can convince some of them to come visit me over here?<br />
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Reykjavik (Iceland)</div>
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<b>Wishing:</b> I could figure out how to validate my Master's from abroad in the United States. I swear to god, if this process were any less organized or streamlined, I would think I was back in Spain! None of it makes any sense and every time I try to figure anything out I get super overwhelmed by the inconsistent and unclear information and have to stop before I start hyperventilating. Fun fun.<br />
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Saint-Malo, Bretagne (France)</div>
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<b>Planning:</b> Some fun personalized gifts for Christmas. Yes, already! Creating interesting gifts takes time, and I am nothing if not a perfectionist. I just hope I can get them all done before the big day. Only 38 days to go!<br />
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Munich, Bavaria (Germany)</div>
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<b>Grateful:</b> I have my family around to support me during this transition period. Without them, I'd be in serious trouble, so I can't thank them enough for helping me get on my feet while I adjust to being back in the States.<br />
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Munich, Bavaria (Germany)</div>
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<b>Waiting for: </b>The pretty snow to come and cover up all the ugly bare trees and dead grass. Yes, the snow will be cold and wet and a pain to clean off my car before work in the dark, but it will improve the outdoor aesthetic so much! Plus, then it'll be possible to go snowboarding and make snowmen and all those other wonderful winter activities!<br />
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Passau, Bavaria (Germany)</div>
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<b>Excited about:</b> A Thanksgiving trip to visit my sister in West Virginia. Of course, I've been there many times before, but I'm really excited to have a chance to do even the most miniscule amount of traveling. It will be so nice to break routine for a few days and see some new scenery, as well as spend time with family!<br />
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Salzburg (Austria)</div>
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<b>Loving: </b>Having access to a car again. Freedom! It's so wonderful to not have to beg your friends to take you places, or try to figure out cheap public transportation options to get anywhere, or walk dozens of kilometers with heavy groceries in hand.<br />
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Neuschwanstein Castle, Bavaria (Germany)</div>
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<b>Wanting: </b>A new camera. I'm thinking about finally taking the plunge and buying myself a nice DSLR camera sometime soon, once I save up enough money. I'm excited to play with all the fun settings and to finally be able to take the pictures I've been trying to force my point-and-shoot to take for years!<br />
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El Escorial, Madrid (Spain)</div>
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<b>Hoping:</b> I can squeeze some more travels in sometime between now and the end of May (when the school year finishes). I spend half my time nowadays drooling over other people's travel pictures, and I feel like if I don't get out somewhere new in the next few months, I'll burst!<br />
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Phoenix, Arizona (USA)</div>
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<b>Feeling:</b> Saddened by all the violence happening lately around the world. While it's hard to imagine terrorists attacking France, a country so near to my heart, it is also hard to know that there are other attacks every day around the world being ignored by the media. It's also scary to think that all this terrorism may only beget more violence and retaliations, more families torn apart, more blood thoughtlessly shed. I wish it were easier for us as humans to overcome our differences in race, religion, language, and nationality. I wish it were easier to forgive the mistakes of the past. But I fear that things may only get worse, and that makes me very sad.<br />
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How is <b>your </b>lately?Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-37048676887402751912015-11-06T06:45:00.002+01:002015-11-06T06:45:59.712+01:00In Which I Am Mildly Obsessed With Fall Colors<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigY4wiFjkZ3DLhpocuEYleanX2-NOku8K8yA-cFH2Tm-Jo-rghj9vyCIKdVfYTJQQaV9wSAR5sJIPz9QeeNqG9r6wjm-CCjPBpEfVBIh-WQFUe4jxkIlvAN4KoDp42LgSeCyG0TTvfcDdY/s1600/106_7214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigY4wiFjkZ3DLhpocuEYleanX2-NOku8K8yA-cFH2Tm-Jo-rghj9vyCIKdVfYTJQQaV9wSAR5sJIPz9QeeNqG9r6wjm-CCjPBpEfVBIh-WQFUe4jxkIlvAN4KoDp42LgSeCyG0TTvfcDdY/s320/106_7214.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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One of the things I really missed while I was living in Spain was experiencing four distinct seasons a year. Everywhere I lived, there seemed to be only two seasons--summer and winter, with hardly a buffer in-between. And while spring and fall did <b>exist</b> there, I never noticed them as much as I did when living in the United States. I think part of missing fall had to do with the absence of leaves turning--in Spain, many trees are trimmed of leaves before they have a chance to fall, so I didn't get to experience those bright reds, oranges and yellows that I craved.</div>
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Have I mentioned yet how much I love bright colors? I mean, I know I'm not the only one to get excited about the leaves turning and it being FALL and PUMPKINS etc etc. But I think my interest in pretty autumn leaves may be slightly beyond that of a normal person...i.e. in the past few weeks I've gone on multiple bike rides PER WEEK out into the countryside with the express purpose of photographing fall leaves. And while this is really great for my physique, I fear that it may also be bordering on mild obsession.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iPlHh7S-qDihCkPpdVTa11lrgvVt8bXFuc91EizSRkSourrZsHgeVosbguoNeI5WlVXAJAz7d4vDXj4Z91qLLrPy5OvTO2wPx9WDSRCc3Qyi9d9ERIugGwXPnJyMi8Nrw-uS-DsJy0P9/s1600/106_7221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iPlHh7S-qDihCkPpdVTa11lrgvVt8bXFuc91EizSRkSourrZsHgeVosbguoNeI5WlVXAJAz7d4vDXj4Z91qLLrPy5OvTO2wPx9WDSRCc3Qyi9d9ERIugGwXPnJyMi8Nrw-uS-DsJy0P9/s320/106_7221.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZa6O7ccxCc-eBAP39IYlrs2MZ-zLai0XntzX6-s8G1YRQDbmBHR4QtW6-TMm83ZfzODvSVk43YlSA1v1o8GMv-8W_wxGeyu6nApdzFTkPDW_h0wC4rEFc4JjmPWxwWBEFXIjyf_1CTaMH/s1600/106_7225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZa6O7ccxCc-eBAP39IYlrs2MZ-zLai0XntzX6-s8G1YRQDbmBHR4QtW6-TMm83ZfzODvSVk43YlSA1v1o8GMv-8W_wxGeyu6nApdzFTkPDW_h0wC4rEFc4JjmPWxwWBEFXIjyf_1CTaMH/s320/106_7225.jpg" width="280" /></a></div>
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But hey, instead of putting it that way let's just say that I'm gaining a passion for bike riding and photography! And while I ignore the fact that there is at least one person I can think of out there picturing me almost swerving into traffic and swearing at cars in French because I <strike>was a typical gas-guzzling American who hated sustainability and exercise and hadn't ridden a bike since I was 10 years old</strike> was unused to biking as a serious means of transportation, let's check out some of the photos I was so excited about taking!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJcF51w1pyRJsgkXP9kfc8Xv_BHdIy24nCf1Rdmr2i7u9M0rcHCx7wgN6_2ejsTMxMiBoB8uyaIkUOYZY6elVBea8OrCb7ox2FfN_bg47nTF-wc1HB3Oj5XdQbQPzKmnEoPOkzkK7ruIq/s1600/106_7234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJcF51w1pyRJsgkXP9kfc8Xv_BHdIy24nCf1Rdmr2i7u9M0rcHCx7wgN6_2ejsTMxMiBoB8uyaIkUOYZY6elVBea8OrCb7ox2FfN_bg47nTF-wc1HB3Oj5XdQbQPzKmnEoPOkzkK7ruIq/s320/106_7234.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Luckily, we've had quite the Indian summer this year, so I had a lot of sunny days to go out on my bike. As I write this, we're in the middle of a week of weather in the 70's F (mid-20's C) in November, which is insane for this part of the country. When I was a kid, we always used to have to go trick-or-treating in snowpants! I came back here to get to experience seasons again, and I am confused. What is happening to the fall chilliness? El Niño and global warming, I'm looking at you! I guess I'm not complaining, due to weirdly being now more used to crazy heat than crazy cold due to my time in Madrid, but still...this is strange. </div>
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Also luckily, there is a nice bike trail that runs near my house, so going out involves neither dangerous traffic nor swearing! I have to say, I'm immensely grateful for that, because I am still not the steadiest person on a bike. Let's just say that trying to take pictures of leaves<b> while still riding</b> was not my brightest idea ever. #fail</div>
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And in case you're wondering, no, none of the photos featured here are my taking-photos-while-riding-and-almost-falling-off-my-bike-into-a-ravine ones. I'll just keep the atrociousness of those photos to myself, thank you very much! I have learned my lesson--first stop the bike, <b>then</b> take pictures.</div>
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Another thing I have to say I'm happy about is to even <b>have</b> access to a bike again, after so many years with only my own two feet as my main means of transport (even if my awkwardness+a bike is just a recipe for disaster). It's kind of crazy how excited I get about little things like having my very own bike to go places with, but I marvel at just how much further I can get in such a short amount of time on a bicycle. Silly? Yes. But still true. </div>
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The last of the pretty leaves are just about to fall off the trees, so soon my commute to work in the morning will be that much less interesting, AND I'll have one less excuse to get out and exercise (as if freezing temperatures, snow, and the sun setting by 5 pm weren't reasons enough to stay inside getting fat all winter long). If you couldn't tell, I'm feeling rather sad that autumn is on its way out and winter is knocking at our doors. I haven't had a real winter in over 4 years, and I'm just sliiiightly apprehensive about once again dealing with ice and snow and temperatures of -25ºC (-10ºF). And did I mention living in near-constant darkness due to the sun setting so early? Damn you, daylight savings time!<br />
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It looks like today was probably the last "nice" day of the year, so I've got to get used to more grey skies and try to get myself amped up about the <b>nice</b> things about winter (that I actually do love), like snow angels and sledding and snowboarding and ice skating. I've just been spoiled by these nice temperatures, and did I say already that I'm not used to the cold anymore? Even on these 70ºF (20ºC) days, I have this compulsion to wear a light jacket, and my fellow Americans think I'm nuts. Maybe I've been around Spanish people too long and feel that I must dress for the season rather than the actual weather? Or maybe I'm just paranoid about getting cold since it happens to me so easily. Clearly, this bodes well for the winter ahead.</div>
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Whatever my issue is, get used to the cold and dark and ice and snow I must, and so I will (try)! </div>
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But that doesn't mean that I can't return to look at these pretty fall photos every once in awhile to remind myself of beautiful bright-colored leaves seen on sunny days from my precarious perch atop my bike.<br />
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<i>¡Feliz otoño a todos!</i></div>
<br />Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-64007412379109378022015-10-24T22:06:00.000+02:002015-11-03T00:51:07.298+01:00Alisathome Answers Travel QuestionsIn all honesty, I've thought a lot about laying this blog to rest over the past few months. After all, I'm no longer abroad, so it seems a little silly to keep writing in a blog called Alisabroad. Wouldn't a more appropriate name be Alisathome?<br />
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Alisathome's adventures are a bit more *ahem* tame...like exercise in the woods!</div>
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If I'm no longer an expat having international adventures, how can I maintain a blog devoted to them? Is there really any point in trying? Mightn't it be better to just give up? Wouldn't I seem like a fraud?<br />
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And yet, it seems a shame to just abandon something that I've been working on for over 6.5 years, especially when I feel like I had just been starting to find my voice and connect with other people.<br />
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But if I were to decide to keep writing, about past adventures, about potential future adventures, or even about life in the United States (which I do realize, IS 'abroad' for most of the world, and still feels pretty damn foreign to me after all these years away), I'd have to first get over something. For the past few months, I've been continually wrestling with that mean little voice in the back of my head that says "You're not that good of a writer anyway. Quit bothering people with your whiny expat stories, because no one wants to hear your humblebragging. That life is over now. Get used to it."<br />
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On the best of days, that voice is no more than an annoying whisper that I can easily tune out. But when I'm feeling low and not sure that the decisions I've made were the right ones, it screams in my ear with force enough to knock me off my feet.<br />
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And lately, that terrible voice has been roaring at me with gale force winds, and I've spent most of my time falling arse over teakettle, trying desperately to stand back up again and usually failing.<br />
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Is it any surprise, then, that I haven't had the courage to blog about my transition back to living in the United States? That I abandoned my resolution to blog once a week, every week, all year long? That instead I haven't written in over four months?<br />
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And to be honest, I could have just slunk away quietly and pretended that this blog had never existed, that I didn't care about giving up on it entirely. But instead, I'm dragging myself back up and writing this right now because I have the support of some great friends. I can't pretend to be that wonderful of a long-distance friend (or in-person one, for that matter), as I continually forget to respond to emails and texts for weeks at a time and get so wrapped up in my own stuff that I don't reach out to people when I should.<br />
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Luckily, not everyone out there is like me. I have some wonderful friends who won't let me fall off the radar, accidentally or otherwise, and for that I am so grateful. There have been numerous lovely people reaching out to me while I've been burrowed away in my little personal cocoon these last few months, but there is one in particular to thank for my trying blogging again, and that's Linda from <a href="http://indietravelpodcast.com/">Indie Travel Podcast</a>.<br />
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Me and Linda at about this time last year</div>
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Linda was one of my work buddies last year in Alcalá de Henares, and I was delighted the day that I learned that she and her husband Craig were travel bloggers, like me! Of course, their podcast is all, like, famous and really really good and stuff and I'm still too lazy to bother to do a lot of things that bloggers are "supposed" to do, but whatever. As fellow members of the <a href="http://alisabroad.blogspot.com/2011/08/international-travelers-club.html">international travelers' club</a>, we formed a bond that I still look back on fondly.<br />
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Linda wrote a <a href="http://indietravelpodcast.com/travel/female-bloggers/">blog post</a> a few weeks ago about 10 awesome female bloggers. As I was reading it one day during my lunch break at work, I found my name on the list, and I was quite touched. She then wrote me a message saying that she hoped I would continue blogging as she'd missed reading my updates since I stopped. Although I still struggled with silencing my fears, I felt like I owed it to her to keep writing. If nothing else, I had to at least answer the questions she'd put out on that post, being that I was so honored to have made her list at all!<br />
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So that's what I'm doing today, answering her ten questions about traveling and hoping doing so will help to quiet that jerk of a voice in the back of my head. Perhaps her little prod may end up being to blame for starting me blogging regularly again! As they say at Hogwarts, <i>"Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus,"</i> never tickle a sleeping dragon. ;-)<br />
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So without further ado, Linda's travel questions and my answers.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Questions: </span><br />
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<b>1. Why do you travel?</b><br />
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I travel because I can't think of anything else I would rather do. Because the world is so big and interesting, because I love to learn about anything and everything, and because I have a ridiculously long list of places I haven't seen yet (not with these eyes). It's a yearning, it's a passion, and it's the only thing I ever think of when I get asked "What would you do if you won a million dollars?"<br />
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Nothing makes me feel more alive than experiencing new parts of the world!</div>
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<b>2. Suitcase or backpack? </b><br />
<b><br /></b> When I move abroad to live for a year or longer, I usually take one of each. But once I get there, for all my trips I take a Patagonia 30L backpack, which I am quite talented at stuffing to the brims and still getting on Ryanair flights for free.<br />
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<b>3. What luxury item do you take with you? </b><br />
<b><br /></b> I'm a pretty bare-bones traveler, especially because the majority of my trips are of a duration of two months or less before I check in at my home base (wherever in the world that may be at the time). I can't fit a lot besides basic clothes and toiletries in my tiny backpack, but the one "unnecessary" (except to my mental health) item I always have is my daily journal. I go nowhere without that. Quite often, I also have a paperback book to read when my phone's battery is dead, and I have, on occasion, backpacked with my laptop (although that brings the weight of my poor little backpack WAY up).<br />
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<b>4. Who do you like to travel with? </b><br />
<b><br /></b> This is actually a really hard question. Without a doubt, the people I have traveled the MOST with are my parents, but, with no offense meant to them, the way I travel with them is rather different from how I travel on my own. There are a lot of improvements, of course, but I also miss out on some more "funky" things I would do if all by myself. Actually, probably the majority of my travels at this point have been totally solo, but while that can be really amazing, it can be really lonely too, especially for someone as shy as me. I've had some really good trips with different friends, but I'd say I'm still looking for that perfect travel partner. In a perfect world, I suppose it would be whoever I end up marrying someday!<br />
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Again, not at all to diss traveling with my parents...we had a blast in Estonia this past summer!</div>
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<b>5. What’s great about your hometown? </b><br />
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It's kind of funny to be asked this question, since right now I'm actually living back in my hometown for the first time since I was 18. I have lots of memories here, but I'm currently struggling to figure out what it might have to offer someone in their mid-twenties who's traveled the world and come back again. There are a few new interesting places that have opened up since I left, including some craft breweries, and even when I was younger I loved visiting the local Japanese gardens.<br />
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<b>6. Do you ever feel tired of traveling? </b><br />
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Absolutely. I've learned that I'm not really cut out for long-term travel because after a certain point in long trips I get tired of packing up my things and changing locations. I even start to feel like every destination looks the same! At these moments, all I want is a lazy day alone at home in my pajamas watching movies on my computer! There are ways to combat this travel <i>ennui </i>while on the road,<i> </i>of course, but it's also good to know how you travel best, and for me that's in shorter spurts.<br />
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<b>7. What’s the most challenging thing about travel?</b><br />
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Probably how difficult it can be to accomplish even the simplest of tasks. Learning how things work in other places is part of the joy of travel too, but when you're already worn out from a full day of travel, just trying to find somewhere decent to eat can seem like a huge mountain to climb. And that's not to mention dealing with rude and intolerant people, language barriers, currency issues, strange opening hours, difficult-to-read train timetables, or immigration paperwork.<br />
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<b>8. Tell me about a moment when you felt really happy. </b><br />
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Hmmm....when I was backpacking around Morocco during <i>Semana Santa</i> 2013 with a group of Spanish friends, we ended up hiring a local guide to take us around Fez's medina, since it was almost impossible to navigate on our own and we were tired of being harassed by locals trying to sell us things. After doing a fantastic job all day long taking us to the most interesting places around town, he invited all four of us to his family home for dinner. That evening was one of the most enlightening experiences of my life, and I remember feeling so very lucky that a family who cooked all of their meals on a hot plate was generous enough to share what little they had with four people they had never seen before in their lives. We ate without utensils, we laughed, they taught us how to dance using mainly our shoulders, and I was so happy that I got to experience such a unique and special moment.<br />
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Delicious tea in our Moroccan guide's home</div>
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<b>9. What have you only recently learned about travel or about yourself? </b><br />
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I've said for a long time that I will eat literally anything, at least once. But I recently learned while in Mexico this summer that I just CANNOT do spicy breakfast. It seems like a weird thing, but I kept saying over and over to my Mexican friend "But does EVERY meal have to be spicy? Even BREAKFAST??" Nope nope nope. That early in the morning, I only want coffee with cereal, bread with butter and jam, pancakes, waffles, etc. No salt, and please god no habanero peppers.<br />
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<b>10. Which travel destination would you love to go back to? </b><br />
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You mean besides wanting to move back to Vigo? Well, there are so many places I'd like to see more of, even in countries I know well. The UK will always have more things for me to see (if you're tired of London you're tired of life, after all), there are so many places I'd still like to go in France, and there are even a few places left on my Spain wish list. I guess if I have to pick just one I'll say Iceland, because I feel like I was only there for a hot second, and the whole time I was limping and kind of miserable due to a <a href="http://alisabroad.blogspot.com/2015/02/how-not-to-visit-icelands-blue-lagoon.html">misfortunate incident at the Blue Lagoon</a>, so it kind of needs a do-over.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-var6CmVEn8K-9N-tyvh1fvu5-OZMUITj1CCWiHKwqr_Of8pG9mS6pRHbw3V6RBo6oBpkebqhRjuiYf0ZWZZy0iz2WSZQC0MNxvvaJGZnbbJM7dPtJxS6YpfA-i9iBrOuoKlt-XYkCzQu/s1600/20140509_101853.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-var6CmVEn8K-9N-tyvh1fvu5-OZMUITj1CCWiHKwqr_Of8pG9mS6pRHbw3V6RBo6oBpkebqhRjuiYf0ZWZZy0iz2WSZQC0MNxvvaJGZnbbJM7dPtJxS6YpfA-i9iBrOuoKlt-XYkCzQu/s320/20140509_101853.jpg" width="180" /></span></a></div>
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If only travel were as easy as hopping in a blue police box...</div>
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Looks like I still have a lot of places left to get to (or get back to)! So here's to hoping that, despite being back Stateside for now, there are more travel adventures in my future...as well as plenty of <i>ganas</i> to write about them! </div>
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Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-38702789100833182672015-06-15T00:44:00.005+02:002015-06-16T16:25:45.309+02:00The Ghosts of Junes Past<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Sometimes, in order to see where we're going, it helps to see where we've been. At least, that's what I believe. In my daily handwritten journal, I quite often take a moment to look back and see what exactly I was doing on this day a year ago, to observe what I was thinking about, to read about my worries and laugh at how much things have changed. </div>
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Although I'm not going to share any of those exact journal entries with the whole wide internet (<b>far</b> too embarrassing), I thought I'd take a moment today to take you on a trip down my memory lane to where I was on this date years and years ago. </div>
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I first left home at the ripe old age of 18, so that's where we'll start. </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2007</span></b></div>
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In mid-June 2007, I had just finished high school and was taking a trip out to Maine for orientation at my new university. I was the perfect picture of teenage angst, having just broken up with my high school boyfriend and feeling like I would never love again. I couldn't wait to be an adult, to kick the dust of the Midwest off my feet, and start all over in a new exciting place, but I was still incredibly annoyed that my mom wanted to take pictures of me in Acadia National Park.</div>
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Struggles: Not having a summer job, missing my ex-boyfriend</div>
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Fears: That I wouldn't like my new roommate, that my new classes would be too difficult, that I would feel homesick in a new place all alone</div>
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Hopes for the next year: That Maine would fill all my lofty expectations, that I would find amazing new friends, that I would finally feel grown-up and independent when I left home</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2008</span></b></div>
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By the time June 2008 had rolled around, I had settled quite nicely into life in Maine...so much so that I almost considered not coming home for the summer! I thought I had made those amazing lifelong friends I'd always dreamed about, my classes the previous year had gone well, and my homesickness had mostly dissipated after the first few months there. Going back to the Midwest for the summer was a slight culture shock, but I made up for it by exploring places in my hometown that I'd never been before, seeing everything with new eyes.</div>
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Struggles: Readjusting to a summer of Midwestern life after being away for a year, trying to become close again with my high school friends, starting to learn Spanish</div>
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Fears: That my Mainer boyfriend would find someone else while I was away, that my friends in Maine would forget about me over the summer</div>
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Hopes for the next year: That I would continue to grow closer to my friends in Maine, that I would find a cool yet cheap place to study abroad in</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2009</span></b></div>
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Summer 2009 found me living in Spain for the first time, glad to escape Maine for awhile after a huge blowout between my boyfriend and my best friend there. After much deliberation, I'd chosen to study in Bilbao. This was because it was close to France, which I thought meant that they would be similar culturally. I was very, very wrong. I was trying to get better at Spanish but having a really hard time. I wasn't alone in my struggles, however, as I learned to do new (also super difficult) things like surfing with my fellow American study abroad students.</div>
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Struggles: Not being able to express myself in Spanish AT ALL and constantly mixing it up with French, not immediately loving Spain and regretting not studying abroad in France like I'd wanted to</div>
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Fears: That I'd made a mistake in coming to Spain and that studying abroad wouldn't be the experience of a lifetime like I'd always dreamed</div>
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Hopes for the next year: To become fluent in Spanish and travel all around Europe</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2010</span></b></div>
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In June 2010, I had been back in the States a few months. Even though I had mixed feelings towards Spain at the end of my time studying there, once I was back in Maine I missed being in Europe and traveling so badly it hurt. I was spending the summer working a retail job that I hated, which really brought me down since I wanted something more for myself. There were only a few bright spots in that otherwise depressing summer, which were watching Spain win the World Cup and finally exploring Portland, Maine. I even went to a cool gay pride festival! </div>
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Struggles: Feeling inadequate because I was the only person I knew who didn't have a cool summer job in their chosen field of study, missing Europe and my life there</div>
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Fears: That I wouldn't be able to find a professor to advise the thesis I wanted to write on the translation of poetry, that I would get stuck working retail forever, that the majors I had chosen would make me unemployable</div>
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Hopes for the next year: To find a graduate program that would lead me towards a job that I would find more fulfilling than working in sales</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2011</span></b></div>
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In summer 2011, I had just defended my thesis, graduated from university, and left Maine for good. I had forgotten all about going to graduate school. In the end, my desire to go back to Spain won out, and I had been accepted as an <i>auxiliar de conversación</i> in A Cañiza, Galicia. So I went back to Illinois and spent the summer with my family and old friends, waiting to leave. That was a little dull at times, but I did take a couple of cool trips, like one to the rolling hills of West Virginia! There, my sister, her husband, my nephew and I went ziplining with Ace Adventure Resort, which was--in a word--awesome. I loved swinging through the trees like George of the Jungle!</div>
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Struggles: Being single again for the first time in nearly four years, leaving behind all my friends in Maine, trying to gather together ridiculous amounts of paperwork for a Spanish visa</div>
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Fears: That I would hate Spain again, that I had forgotten all my Spanish, that teaching would be a nightmare</div>
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Hopes for the next year: To travel a lot more around Europe, to finally have Spanish friends</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2012</span></b></div>
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After my second year in Spain, by June 2012 I was feeling very comfortable there. I had no desire to go home for the summer when I had the legal right to stay, so I took a position as an au pair in a suburb of Madrid. Before I left Galicia everyone told me I was going to <i>asar</i> (fry) in the capital, but I had no idea how much! The heat was unbearable. That coupled with being stuck in the suburbs was a bit difficult, but I was able to spend some time exploring Madrid and learning more about day-to-day Spanish family life. My Spanish also improved quite a bit!</div>
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Struggles: Feeling lonely because I knew no one my own age in Las Rozas, getting broken up with in Spanish via text message, dealing with the summer heat of Madrid</div>
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Fears: That I would never make close Spanish friends in Vigo, that my living situation would be as miserable as the year before</div>
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Hopes for the next year: To join a weekly Couchsurfing meeting and make friends there, to live with Spaniards, to become more integrated at my work in A Cañiza</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2013</span></b></div>
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The summer of 2013 found me leaving Spain again, this time with a very heavy heart. I didn't want to leave behind the amazing life that I'd built for myself in Vigo, with fun activities, great friends, and some incredible Spanish and German roommates. But I also realized that opportunities to realize your life goals (like living in France) don't come around every day. I knew that if I didn't go to France, I would always regret it. So I reluctantly said my goodbyes and faced my destiny. But before heading back to sweet home Chicago to get my French visa, I got to go on an awesome Eurotrip with my parents to gorgeous places like Lake Bled, Slovenia! That made the pain of leaving Spain lessen ever so slightly, and I was glad.</div>
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Struggles: Saying goodbye to my wonderful friends and life in my favorite city in Spain (Vigo), packing two years' worth of possessions into one suitcase</div>
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Fears: That I would hate living in France and regret leaving Galicia, that my French was awful and no one would understand me</div>
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Hopes for the next year: To become fluent in French and have a year in France that would fulfill the fantasies I'd been having since I was 14</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2014</span></b></div>
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At this time last year, I was doing some final little trips around Brittany (like to Brest) before leaving France. I had incredibly mixed feelings about leaving, as I'd had a real rollercoaster of a year. I didn't feel quite finished with France. It seemed like there was still more to learn, and definitely room for improvement with my French. But at the same time, Spain (like the jealous ex-boyfriend it is) wouldn't let go of its firm grasp on my heart. So I was going to be heading back to the States soon, a pitstop on the way to my fourth year in Spain. I was starting to feel super nervous about being a graduate student and was a bit uncertain whether teaching was actually for me. I'd just finished a year working at a really difficult school, and wasn't sure whether my struggles were a reflection of my inadequacies as a teacher or just the result of a hard situation. </div>
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Struggles: Feeling sad over a relationship that was about to end, already missing the friends I had just said goodbye to, getting tired of changing countries just as I was beginning to feel comfortable</div>
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Fears: That it would be really difficult to get a Master's degree, that everyone else would know more about teaching than me, that I would hate living in Madrid</div>
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Hopes for the next year: To feel integrated and fulfilled in my new teaching job, that my Master's classes would be interesting and informative, that a graduate degree would make me more employable</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2015 (The Present Day)</span></b></div>
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So here we are in mid-June 2015. I'm spending my time saying goodbye to all my favorite people and places in and around Madrid, because as far as I'm aware, I'm leaving Spain for good this time. Of course, I thought that two years ago, and six years ago as well, so one never knows. But that's the plan. I'm working on finding a big-girl teaching job without the title of "assistant" attached to it, in a place I can legally live for more than one year at a time. I've just finished my very last Master's class and I'm getting ready to graduate next week. Then I'll be off on (perhaps my final) big European Vacation with my parents! Getting ready to (I think) end my years in Spain is a big step for me, but my heart isn't quite so heavy at the thought of leaving this time. It feels like the right decision in order to further my teaching career and accomplish my life goals, so I'm going more or less without regrets. </div>
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Struggles: Trying to plan a big vacation while also doing 2-3 interviews a week, saying goodbye to all my beloved little students</div>
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Fears: That my Master's degree will be very difficult to validate in the USA, that I'll never find a job because of my lack of American teaching certificate, that I'll really miss living in Spain and struggle a lot with culture shock wherever I end up</div>
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Hopes for the next year: To have a more permanent job working with the age group I prefer in a place I could see myself living happily for several years, to feel more stable in life, love, friendship, and everything else</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">So what have we learned from this exercise?</span></b></div>
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One, I should be incredibly wary of romantic relationships in summer. I have literally never broken up with anyone significant at any other time of year. Weird, huh?</div>
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But more importantly, the real value of seeing the things that haunted me in Junes past is noticing <u>how insignificant they seem now.</u> We humans sometimes get lost in the all-consuming concerns of the present. We forget that our worries of today are our silly anecdotes of tomorrow. </div>
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It's hard to remember that the things I'm so worried about now will eventually resolve themselves. It seems impossible to imagine a world in which I have other things to think about. But looking at my past problems and knowing that everything worked out just fine makes it easier to know that the fears gnawing at my soul today will seem funny on this date in one year, five years, ten years. </div>
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Does that mean I can forget about them now? No, of course not.</div>
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But maybe it will help me to feel just a little bit less scared of the unknown. And every time I feel a little less worried and afraid, it makes it easier to move forward. </div>
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In the end, that's my biggest hope for all future years: to know that<i> qué será será</i> and to learn to embrace that with open arms. </div>
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Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-12208576655063417492015-06-08T00:15:00.000+02:002015-06-08T19:29:23.138+02:00Photo Post: Graduation Goggles about Alcalá de Henares<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As my time here in Alcalá de Henares draws to a close, I realize that I'm starting to get a case of graduation goggles. As explained by Robin in <i>How I Met Your Mother</i>, graduation goggles are when you begin to feel nostalgic as something is ending, even if you didn't really enjoy it that much in the first place. There couldn't be a more fitting description to how I feel about Alcalá right now. As much as I have felt stuck here during the past year, I'm starting to notice the little things about this town that I'm going to miss. </div>
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Don't get me wrong, I'm still incredibly excited to be getting out of here in less than 3(!) weeks. I can't wait to see my parents again and do some glorious traveling. </div>
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But during the past few weeks, I've been walking around town saying to myself "Wow, that building where Christopher Columbus met King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella really is beautiful," or "I forgot how cool it is that I live in the town where both Cervantes and Catherine of Aragon were born!" </div>
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So I've been taking pictures of these little things that I'm noticing all over again. I'm hoping to cement them in my memory so that I can think back fondly on my time in Alcalá, rather than remembering the bad moments. </div>
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It may be quixotic of me to think so, but we will meet again one day, Don Quixote! </div>
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(Forgive me, I just can't help myself from being punny)</div>
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Yes, this town is obsessed with Cervantes. I'd kind of forgotten how silly that seemed to me when I first arrived here!</div>
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A quick break in the beautiful university courtyard during a long Friday afternoon class. The fountains are soothing, and it's very easy to picture yourself being a student here hundreds of years ago. </div>
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I'd also forgotten how impressive I initially found it that I'd be studying in the third-oldest university in Spain. But the buildings, once I stop to pay attention to them again, really are very impressive. I wish I'd been in this state of mind the day the King of Spain stopped by to give away the Cervantes prize...I might have actually made the effort to go down and check out the hubbub!</div>
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Here's the building where Catherine of Aragon was born, and where Columbus was given the money to go "discover" America. I like to think that both things were announced from this very balcony...because I have an incredibly active imagination. </div>
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The other day I discovered a random little art gallery tucked away next to one of my favorite restaurants. I saw this piece through the doorway, and couldn't help but go in to see it a little closer.</div>
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I often joke about how I'm living in the desert. The heat these past few weeks has been...not so fun. But graduation goggles make me appreciate the pretty color of the dead grass, and the fact that I don't need to worry about bringing a just-in-case sweater with me, ever. </div>
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Alcalá's town square, where I can go to listen to random salsa music on a Saturday night and where I run into my little students every day of the week. This is arguably the most beautiful and representative place in town, and probably what I'll remember most once I'm gone!</div>
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Usually, graduation goggles aren't really a fun thing, as they obscure your vision and make you think things that aren't true. But I've actually been kind of enjoying wearing them these last few weeks. I'm seeing Alcalá once again through the eyes of a visitor and appreciating it all the more. It's actually been kind of fun! Who knows what other tiny cool details I'll notice before I leave; I'm excited to find out!</div>
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Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-40661258816755470882015-06-01T00:11:00.002+02:002015-06-01T18:23:47.310+02:00GratefulI've been in a little bit of a mopey mood recently. There isn't anything in particular that's wrong, but I've been stressed about the future, about money, and about where I want to work and settle down, among other things. I haven't been the most fun to talk to lately as I worried aloud about all these issues.<br />
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But just today, out of nowhere, a sense of peace descended upon me. I don't know exactly where it came from. Maybe it's just the knowledge that things have always worked out before, and they will again, even if it takes some time. I'm certainly glad to be feeling less negative.<br />
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This sudden calm has left me feeling an immense sense of gratitude. I have so many things to be excited about, both large and small!<br />
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The first big one is that just over a week ago, I turned in my Master's thesis. It felt so good to get that weight off my chest! I mean, I do like writing, but by the end I was just ready to turn it in and forget about it. Cheers to a huge accomplishment! Even the roses in Alcalá came out to celebrate my handing in my thesis.<br />
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Related to that is the fact that I'm going to graduate with a Master's degree from the Universidad de Alcalá de Henares in just over 3 weeks. I can't believe it! It's been a long road to get here. There have been some good moments, and I've met a few nice people, but overall I'm ready to move on from this. It's been a difficult year. So I'm excited to move onto the next chapter of my life.<br />
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Of course, my graduation will also mean finishing my contract at my current school. There have been lots of ups and downs there, but in the end all I can think about is how much I'm going to miss my little students. They've really burrowed their way into my heart!<br />
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But onward and upward, as I have so many exciting things coming up in the next few months! As soon as I finish studying and working, my parents are coming to visit for a celebratory trip around the Baltics. Seeing new places with my two favorite people in the whole world, what better?<br />
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It's been too long since I've actually been on a proper vacation, so I am super psyched for all the travels I have coming up in the next few months. I feel like I've been caged up all winter, and soon I'll be FREE! I have all sorts of new adventures in store for me. One really exciting one will be visiting my old roommate from when I was living in France last year. I can't wait to see her again!<br />
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And feeling grateful wouldn't be complete if I wasn't also taking note of the smaller good things in life. Just last weekend, I took myself on a little adventure when running. I decided to go on a new path and ended up visiting the old Roman village of Complutum. There's not a lot left to look at, but there's still something thrilling about the fact that I can randomly visit Roman ruins on my morning run.<br />
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One more little thing--as I write this very post, I'm sitting on my balcony having dinner and watching the sunset. The temperature is perfect, and I'm munching contentedly on olives and jamón. The people in the café below are chattering, and I'm listening to my 60s radio station on Spotify. I feel totally at peace with where I am right now. A perfect moment if I ever saw one!Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-87850999548638695782015-05-24T22:45:00.000+02:002015-05-25T20:00:43.220+02:00Where Is Home?I seem to have an innate inability to give a simple answer to a simple question.<br />
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<b>What's your name?</b> That depends on your native language, what country we are in, and the language we are currently speaking. Probably about half of my friends don't actually know my name, since I hate the way non-native English speakers mispronounce it. So I introduce myself in a more Spanish/French way, which is not my real name but sounds better to me than their butcherings. <i>Bref,</i> it's really /əlɪsə/. A homophone of Alyssa, not Elisa.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span> <b><br /></b> <b>How many brothers and sisters do you have?</b> How long have you got for me to explain it? It involves divorces and remarriages on both sides, and either way I answer it's confusing. In short, I grew up basically an only child, yet I still have a crapload of nephews and nieces.<br />
<b><br /></b> <b>Where are you from? </b>Where are YOU from? My answer will depend greatly on that. Most times in my expat life, I say "near Chicago," but it's always really embarrassing when I meet another Illinoisian and they ask for more specifics. Ahem, how near is "near" to you?<br />
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And lately, I've been doing a lot of deep thinking about that last one. Not where am I from, but where is home? I have a hard time coming up with an answer, even a complicated one.<br />
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Is home the little town near Chicago where I was born and raised?<br />
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But I haven't lived there in 8 years. This past summer, I cleaned out and packed up the majority of my things from my childhood bedroom, knowing that I had officially moved on. My parents are going back to live where <b>they</b> consider home, up in Wisconsin. So although Northern Illinois is where I was raised, I'm not sure if it's home anymore.<br />
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Is home Alcalá de Henares, where I currently live?<br />
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As sad as it is, I've never felt particularly at home here in Alcalá. It's an all right town, I suppose, but I'm not very happy here. I don't feel very integrated into society, and I don't have a lot of friends. I'm not miserable, but I am rather bored. I'll be happy when my Master's degree is finished in a month and I can move on.<br />
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Is home Orono, Bilbao, Vigo, or Saint-Malo?<br />
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In the past 8 years, I've lived in 6 different cities. Just doing simple math, I think it becomes obvious that I haven't been able to stay in any of them very long. I've been a nomad for a long time, trying on different cities for size but moving on relatively quickly from all of them. There were things that I loved about all of these cities: Orono's student culture, Bilbao's alternative vibe, the friends I made in Vigo, the language I spoke in Saint-Malo. But were any of them home? I don't think I was able to stay long enough to find out.<br />
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I'm getting really tired of this itinerant life. I will always love traveling, but I'm not the type that can do it continually. My heart is bruised from being fractured into pieces every single time I move. I need a stable home to come back to at the end of a long journey. I want my comfy warm bed to fall into, my car in the driveway, and my long-term friends to meet for coffee the next day to share my stories with.<br />
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So right now, my task is to build that permanent home for myself. To find a place where I can stay legally and make it mine. The question is, where?<br />
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Back to Northern Illinois or some other part of the American Midwest, where my permanent ties still are? Where I speak the language and know the culture like the back of my hand? Where everything is easy? Where I've traveled more than anyone I know? Where I've felt like an alien when I've visited every summer for the past 8 years?<br />
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To some other part of the States? To explore something new and yet still be "at home"? To make a new part of the country my own? To still be at a great distance from my family, even after all these years of missing them?<br />
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To a new country? To learn a new language or dialect? To explore a new part of the world? To be in a place where I'm all alone, again? Where I still need a visa to stay? Where I'd have to learn a whole new set of cultural paradigms? Where I'm far from everyone I love?<br />
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These questions have been running continually through my head for months now, and I still have no clear answers. I've been trying to listen to what my soul is telling me, but it's coming through like garbled static on a badly tuned radio.<br />
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I heard a quote recently in one of my meditations that I really liked. It was from a man called Philip McKernan, and it went "In the absence of clarity, take action." He was saying that if you don't know what to do, just do something. Even if it turns out badly, at least then you'll know one more thing that isn't right for you!<br />
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So I guess that's the plan. I have no idea what's right or where my home should be. So until I do, I just have to take some action, any action, and hope for the best. I have one month left of living in Alcalá de Henares, and then...<br />
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Once more unto the breach!Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-28548559785290892572015-05-17T20:22:00.000+02:002015-05-17T20:22:01.557+02:00Photo Post: A Very Spanish Field TripThis past week, I went on quite possibly the best field trip of my life. There was some stiff competition, since last year I got invited to go with my 15-year-old French students for a day to Jersey, a British island off the coast of France, which was pretty darn cool. But this year, I went on a three-day trip with my 10-year-olds to the school "farm" (in reality more like summer camp). That doesn't sound that cool, I guess, just saying it like that, but it was honestly so nice.<br />
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I think just on the merits of food alone, this year's field trip was the winner by far...not that British food is hard to beat.<br />
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My god, look at all that food porn. Seriously, I was served amazing four-course meals made by a Michelin-star-level chef three times a day. I was stuffed until I literally could not move.<br />
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Luckily, that was fine, since my duties consisted of nothing more strenuous than taking walks around the camp to see how the kids were doing ziplining and rock climbing with their counselors, talking down a girl who was a little homesick, and dancing like an idiot with my students at the camp "disco."<br />
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Working hard holding a bunny for kids to pet...</div>
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Checking out a sheep eating some hay off his brother's back...</div>
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Other than that, I took naps, read a book for fun, and worked on my thesis. Such a difficult life! But I'd really needed a little time off to get some perspective on the fact that in just over a month, I'll have my master's degree and I'll be unemployed. Until then, it's full steam ahead!<br />
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<br />Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-86767464005045299792015-05-10T01:56:00.001+02:002015-05-10T18:27:46.792+02:00Takeaway from My First Blogging Conference<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This past weekend, I went to my first-ever blogging conference, TBEX Europe 2015. I honestly wasn't sure what to expect before I went, and I felt increasingly nervous about it in the weeks leading up, as I thought more and more about what it might be like. </div>
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<i>Would I be the only non-pro blogger there?</i></div>
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<i>Would the others laugh at my silly little "hobby" blog?</i></div>
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<i>Would I find the information useful when I have no real intention of monetizing my blog?</i></div>
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<i>Would I actually be brave enough to try to talk to a large crowd of 400 strangers?</i></div>
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Something you have to understand about me is that I'm enormously introverted as well as shy to boot. Large crowds of strangers make me extremely nervous, especially when I perceive them to be "better" than me somehow. So this conference had the potential to be a perfect storm of awkwardness for me. But I'm determined to overcome my social anxiety and become better at making new friends, so the weekend was also a perfect opportunity to practice that! </div>
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The first day was extremely overwhelming. We arrived later than other people on the day after the official welcoming party due to work schedules, so things were in full swing as we walked in. Lots of others seemed to know each other, and while I was introduced to some people right away, I felt so self-conscious about making a bad first impression that I probably didn't make one at all. </div>
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After a couple of sessions on improving the writing style of our blogs and a big lunch, I felt slightly more at ease, so during the afternoon when other people were networking with airlines and tourism boards, I was trying to build up the courage to talk to some strangers and make new friends. I kept circulating throughout the room, ostensibly checking out the pastry selections on the various tables scattered throughout the hotel lobby and continuously downing and refilling my glass of water. In reality, I was scoping out whether there seemed to be any friendly-looking people whose conversation I could easily join. A couple of times, I awkwardly stood next to groups of people, waiting for a good moment to jump into what they were saying, but finding none, eventually slunk away. After awhile, I found myself sitting at a table in the corner by myself, furiously scribbling away in my journal, disappointed in my lack of social skills. </div>
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The more I wrote, though, the clearer my thoughts became, and I eventually came to the conclusion that although I need to work on starting conversations with strangers, I haven't given up yet, and that is admirable. Despite my clear lack of ease in this area, I keep putting myself in situations that will require me to practice conversing with new people, and for that I was proud of myself. I realized that although I had been a bit of a failure so far in the conference, the remainder did not have to be predicated on what had already happened. There was still opportunity for improvement. </div>
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Just realizing this felt like a huge weight being lifted from my shoulders. My anxiety didn't dissipate entirely, but I felt more courageous about spending the rest of the weekend chatting with strangers. </div>
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That night and the whole next day, I made a great effort to jump into people's conversations, even when it felt awkward or strange. And I began to find that people didn't really seem to mind. Bloggers are a pretty friendly bunch, after all. </div>
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Of course, I would be greatly amiss if I didn't mention that I was greatly aided by the fact that I happened to have come to the conference with two of the biggest names in the travel blogging world, my friends Linda and Craig from <a href="http://indietravelpodcast.com/">Indie Travel Podcast</a>. Just mentioning their names with new people gained me instant recognition, and they spent the whole conference introducing me to all the most important people in travel blogging, who also just happen to be some of their best friends. I have to say, it was kind of weird to be chatting with new people one night and then realizing the next day that they were giving some of the most important talks in the whole conference (including the closing night session)! </div>
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Still, in general, I think I learned a thing or two about small talk with strangers, and I'll be interested to try to put that into practice in the future (with or without a buddy there to hook people with "Have you met Alisa?")!</div>
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I also learned that I'm just a wee bit different from a lot of other bloggers. I've never felt so out-of-step with the times as being asked hundreds of times in one weekend for my Twitter handle, when I still don't really "get" why I should be on Twitter in the first place, and therefore don't have one! I also don't have business cards about my blog, the other big currency at a travel blogging conference. Oops. </div>
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It seemed like the majority of other people at TBEX were trying to make contacts to be able to sell things from their blog, or use their blog as a means of advertisement so they could go on comped trips. Now, I don't think there's anything wrong with that--there's obviously a need for companies to promote their product (vacations), and many bloggers have become unwilling to provide for that need using money out of their own pocket. I get that. It makes a lot of sense, and I found the weekend immersed in this whole new world of advertising through blogging and of people who travel for a living absolutely fascinating. </div>
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That said, I have no real desire to make money from Alisabroad. I don't really care if I make a name for myself, I don't give a damn about SEO, and I don't intend to make this blog my full-time job. I'll never say never, because no one can ever know what the future will bring, but for now <b>I'm really, genuinely only writing for myself. </b>That's not to say that I don't appreciate that people want to read what I write, but I'm here for the community, I want to share my experiences because I think it brings me closer with people, and I have no desire to try to convince people to do anything, <strike>except maybe learn English as a second language.</strike> Seriously. </div>
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Still, despite occasionally feeling like a fish out of water, I had some lovely moments at the conference. It was nice to be surrounded by people who really "get" my lifestyle, who are also constantly on the move, who haven't settled down yet in a permanent home. When we met, it wasn't "Where are you from?" but rather "Where are you currently based?" and "Where have you been recently?" </div>
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One of my favorite moments from the whole conference was on the last night, standing with a group of women, discussing the nitty-gritty practicalities of traveling long-term. "What do you do about shampoo?" one of them asked. Suddenly we were trading secrets about refilling travel-size shampoo bottles with luxury shampoo, debating the practicalities of checking a bag occasionally, and lamenting those times when we'd had to throw away a half-full shampoo bottle before getting on a plane. I felt like they truly got what my life is like in a way I haven't in a long while, and that was good. </div>
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So even if I may never use some of the marketing tools I learned at the conference, it was definitely worth it for me socially, if nothing else. And besides that, it was lovely to have an excuse to get away to a beachside town like Lloret de Mar for the weekend. Have I mentioned yet that I really miss the ocean?</div>
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I was also incredibly impressed by the welcome we received from the Costa Brava tourist board, who gave us adorable gift bags with the best present inside--a free portable phone charger! </div>
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And then there was the food. Oh my god, the food. I was blown away by the amount of food put in front of my face, free for the taking, in one short weekend. I spent the lunch buffets stuffing my face with seafood, and then got to the dessert table and went only <b>slightly </b>overboard with a desire to try absolutely everything. Buffets are dangerous for the adventurous eater, oh yes they are! </div>
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I was honestly shocked by not only the quantity of food given to us, but the incredibly elaborate way in which it was presented. Behold the butter dolphins on the seafood table, which seemed so elaborate and extravagant that I felt like I was at a fancy wedding. </div>
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I was also impressed with the hotel I stayed at (chosen by me and not affiliated with the conference at all). Slightly out of the way at the other end of the beach from the conference's hotel complex, it was a rundown mom-and-pop place where the receptionist seemed incredibly relieved that I spoke Spanish, because he clearly couldn't communicate in anything besides that and Catalan. I'm fond of authentically Spanish places like this, especially after the slightly jarring feeling of being surrounded by other English speakers at a conference in Spain, leaving me unsure what language to speak in to the conference's hotel staff. But my shabby little 25€-a-night hotel had one major perk--free continental breakfast served on their garden terrace. Toootally worth it. </div>
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Another great thing about the weekend that had nothing at all to do with the conference itself was the discovery of a bunch of food trucks on the town's main square. I had both authentic Mexican food as well as my first <i>galette bretonne avec du cidre</i> in nearly a year. So ridiculously good. </div>
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And getting back to the conference itself, I was also amazed at the effort put into the official parties. Free sangría on the hotel rooftop? A party overlooking the beach at night, complete with Galician <i>queimada</i>? Wow. That even gave me a chance to impress people with my stories of exactly how this firey drink is prepared, and all the times I had it while living in my beloved Galicia. </div>
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So, overall, was TBEX worth it? Although I was somewhat at counter-purposes with the actual <i>raison d'être </i>of the event, I still had a really good time. I thought the information sessions were mostly of high quality and very interesting, regardless of whether I ever put that information to good use or not. The food was excellent and abundant, the parties were tasteful and culturally appropriate, and the other bloggers were not as scary or snobby as I had initially feared. So, was it worth my $129? I'd have to say without hesitation, a huge resounding <b>YES. </b></div>
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Will I go again to a future TBEX? I don't know yet, but I would absolutely consider it, for the food and friends alone, if nothing else!<br />
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<br />Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-87785905643626993262015-04-30T00:08:00.000+02:002015-05-15T14:13:33.679+02:00An Argument for Places With Bad Weather<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Bilbao</div>
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This past weekend, I was taking a more-than-slightly damp walk through El Retiro in Madrid with a fellow former assistant teacher who was in Galicia at the same time as me. As we squished along, we started reminiscing about the rain in my favorite community in Spain. As I know very well by now, the rain in Spain does NOT fall mainly on the plain! The rain in Galicia was a constant companion, and I came to find its presence more comforting than anything else. The big rainstorm here on Saturday was one of only a handful since I arrived in this desert last August, and it made me think about how I really miss chilly, cloudy days.</div>
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I know people think I'm strange for saying this, but I <b>love</b> places with bad weather. I can't tell you how many arguments I've had with people who've tried to insult the various places I've lived in my life (which, with the exception of Alcalá de Henares, are all known for their not-so-stellar weather). They ask why I wouldn't want to live somewhere like the south, where there is sun and heat and beaches. And I say, "Bleh."</div>
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Why? Well, first of all, I hate hot weather. Anything above about 25˚C (77˚F) is too hot for me and makes me super uncomfortable. But if that weren't enough, I have all kinds of reasons I like bad weather. Some of them are superficial, like the fact that I think winter clothes are cute, and that I like winter sports better than summer ones. </div>
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I was a figure skater for 15 years, after all...</div>
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However, I also have more philosophical reasons, things that I think touch on the core of my personality type. </div>
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Everywhere I've ever lived (Spain, France, the USA), people have told me about their theories that people from the South are very open to strangers but that they're also kind of fake, and people from the North are difficult, cold and unfriendly at first, but once you make your way into their hearts, you'll be friends forever. Is this true? I can't say for certain, although my confirmation bias and the fact that I am a born-and-bred northerner says YES, 100%. </div>
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What I <b>do</b> think is true about the people from these northerly latitudes is that they are forced to be more resilient. When it rains every day for 6 months, you don't whine about it, you just get boots and an umbrella and go about your business anyway. When your car is buried in a snow avalanche, you shovel it out as best you can and drive much more carefully to work. Little things like weather don't get these people down! </div>
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Maine</div>
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And when you're used to bad weather, you don't complain about it so much. It's a fact of life, not something to mope about! And in fact, there is a great deal of beauty to be found in stormy weather, which you only begin to notice when you're exposed to it repeatedly, day after day. </div>
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Maine</div>
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For me, at least, there are few things more magical than a blanket of snow over a field, like an empty canvas waiting to be filled in, or trees painted white by frost. Both of the places I've lived in the USA are great winter wonderlands, and I loved them for it.</div>
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Illinois</div>
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I am equally enchanted by fog rolling over green hillsides, creating an air of mystery and romance. Fog patterns were a topic I became intimately familiar with in my two years in Galicia, and I loved going through foggy forests, then climbing the mountains to see the mist from above. </div>
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Cañones do Sil, Galicia</div>
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Bad weather on the ocean can also be breathtaking. One of the most amazing moments in my life was watching the <i>grandes vagues</i> (big tides) come into St. Malo. The storm created quite a show, and I've rarely felt so much reverence for the awesomeness of the natural world around me as when the ocean soaked me from head to foot and then broke in the windows of the restaurant where I'd been! </div>
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St. Malo, Brittany</div>
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I'm either a very moody romantic or Mary Mary quite contrary, but I like being forced to sit inside wrapped in a blanket with a steaming hot tea on a cold rainy/snowy day. I actually feel guilty when the weather is too good, because I don't like being outside all the time, especially not in the heat and sunshine! Sometimes I'd rather appreciate the beauty of raindrops winding their way down my windowsill. I also enjoy falling asleep to the pounding of raindrops on my roof. There are few things more soothing!</div>
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Vigo, Galicia</div>
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Lots of precipitation has another plus, which is that it turns everything it touches a vibrant shade of green. No, really! I swear, the plants in Galicia are on another level compared with those in other places I've lived. That was good, because when I <b>did </b>feel like going outside and appreciating nature, it was really worth my while! </div>
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Near Santiago, Galicia</div>
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And when you're used to bad weather, you're more able to handle it when you encounter rainy or snowy skies on your travels. You know exactly what to do to keep yourself safe and happy when you need to, because you know all the tricks to living in a place with difficult weather. It never takes you by surprise, like it might for those people used to perpetually warm sunny days!</div>
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Near Edinburgh, Scotland</div>
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Lisbon, Portugal</div>
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Clouds also create an awesome backdrop for photos, since they make the rest of the colors pop so much. I like going out and taking photos on yucky days because the moody clouds look so pretty!</div>
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Near where I lived in St. Malo, Brittany</div>
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Gorgeously moody skies in Bilbao, Spain</div>
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I also think that going through lots of bad weather really makes you appreciate the good weather more when it does come. I remember when I was studying in Maine, every year the first day that all the snow had melted off the university mall and it was above 40˚F (5˚C) about three-quarters of the campus was sitting outside studying or playing frisbee. What would be considered end-of-the-world cold in other places was a cause for celebration in a place where two months before it was -30˚ (~F and C, how weird is that?) and we'd had a warning that if we stayed outside for more than ten minutes, we were at risk for frostbite. If every day were sunny and warm with perfect temperatures, you would never get to feel joy at the return of the sun in spring! </div>
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It's so cheesy, but the bad weather makes you appreciate the rainbow that comes after so much more than if you saw one every single day. Or at least, that's what I think. </div>
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Especially if it's a double rainbow, like this one in Liverpool, England!</div>
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So there you have it, I've pled the case for the greatness of bad weather! I know most of the world will never agree with me, and I'm sure I'll have arguments about this for years to come, but this is my opinion and I'm sticking to it! </div>
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<b>And you? Do you have more of a sunny disposition, or a moody cloudy one? </b></div>
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Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-7030196662151628472015-04-24T00:32:00.000+02:002015-05-10T18:32:55.831+02:00Sometimes I Wish I Weren't an AnglophoneIt feels blasphemous to even think this, let alone say it out loud. It's almost like a dirty secret, one that I'm ashamed to admit. Of all of the blessings I've had in my life (and there are many), one of them that has most deeply affected my path in life has been the fact that I speak English as my first language and that I come from a rich and powerful nation. My passport currently opens doors for me with no visa required in around 160 countries, and my native language is the lingua franca of basically the entire world.<br />
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<b>And yet I sometimes wish I didn't speak English as my first language. </b><br />
<b><br /></b> I don't mean to sound like an ungrateful brat. I'm aware of how much speaking English has helped me thus far in life, and I do realize that I actually make a living just speaking my native language. (Of course, I know the grammar as well; that helps!) But there are moments when I wish I could trade in the status of "native speaker of English" and just speak it well as a second language instead.<br />
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Being a native English speaker, especially in Spain right now, means that I am a hot commodity. Spaniards are desperate to learn English, the one thing that they all seem to agree will protect them against the country's current staggering unemployment. Well, either that or it will allow them to move to some other country to work, whichever happens first. Professionals want to learn English to get a better job, and parents want their children to learn English so they will be employable someday too. And all of these people agree that there is no one better to learn from than a native speaker. After all, our pronunciation is perfect, right?<br />
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A few weeks ago, in the shared car on the way back from Galicia, we were all talking about our careers, and one of the university students in the back mentioned that he was trying to learn English. The driver threw out the idea that he should try to find a language exchange partner to improve. Unimpressed with the idea, he said "<i>ya tengo un nativo," </i>I already have a native.<br />
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Something about that sentence really rubbed me the wrong way, although I kept quiet about it in the moment. He has a native already? Not a friend who helps him with English, not a conversation partner, <b>a native. </b>As though all native English speakers were different models of the same device. What are we, like the latest bit of technology, a talking English machine? A walking interactive dictionary?<br />
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It's frustrating enough that just about every time we go on public transit, the people around us are really obviously eavesdropping to see if they can understand a little of what we're saying, as though we were a live-action roleplay for their English exam. But of course, I've learned the hard way that trying to make new friends here when you're a native English speaker can be a minefield as well. Whether it's online or in person, it's really annoying to be talking with someone in the language of the country I moved halfway around the world to be in, only to mention where I come from and have them palpably brighten.<br />
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"Oh, you're American!?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
"Wow, I've always wanted to travel to New York City! I'm trying to improve my English, you should help me! Let's get together again sometime!"<br />
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If they haven't already, cue them switching to (usually terrible) English on me and me plastering a fake smile on my face and saying "yeah, maybe..." while thinking to myself "<u>NOT!</u>"<br />
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Rereading that exchange, I know I sound like a real jerk for not wanting to help these poor people who just want to learn my native language. But is it so wrong of me to want people to be my friends because of who <u><b>I</b></u> <b><u>am</u></b>, and not what language I speak? Am I a jerk for being annoyed that I've had that same exact exchange, almost word for word, hundreds of times in my five years in Europe?<br />
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And most of all, is it a crime to not want to teach English for free when I know I could get paid to do so? Helping people with their English is my job; I do it all day every day with my preferred age group for good money. When I get off work, I just want to relax and think about other things besides explaining when to use the present perfect versus the simple past. I want to talk with people and just have fun. I really do not want to give free English lessons to adults! The way I see it, people asking me right off the bat to help them with their English is like if I were to meet a shopkeeper and immediately ask him if he could give me things for free from his store. No, probably not, right? So why should I have to feel bad about not wanting to help everybody with their English all the time?<br />
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And the thing is, I've been on the other side of the whole 'trying desperately to learn a language' thing, and there have been lots of kind souls who have helped me. So I <i>do</i> often feel guilty for not wanting to return the favor with everyone I meet. But doing so makes me feel used, like a tool rather than a human being with interests and feelings. I don't mind helping my <b>friends</b> occasionally with their English, but that's because our friendship is based on things other than my native language and their desperation to learn it.<br />
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The other annoying part about these people switching to English on me like this is that I feel like since I'm the one who moved halfway around the world to learn another language, I should be allowed the chance to practice that language when I'm not at work. I do often tell people this, and most people are gracious enough to take the hint that I would prefer to speak in their language with them, but some others are really persistent about always trying to practice their bad English on me, and that's when I start to get really annoyed.<br />
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There are, of course, ways to practice languages that are of mutual benefit to both parties, like language exchanges. That way, I would be helping the other person with their English, and they would be helping me with French or Spanish or even Galician. I've done a fair amount of these, and they used to be really helpful. In French or Galician, they still might be. But in Spanish, as conceited as this sounds, I feel I've moved past the point where I really need to have someone correcting me all the time. My Spanish is at a level of C1.4 according to the Common European Framework (one microstep away from C2, or totally bilingual, argh), which I know since I took the practice test put out by the Cervantes Institute just the other day. So, I really feel like I'm on a tier where I don't really need language exchanges, because the benefit to me is much smaller than the effort I would need to put out in helping others with their English. Maybe I just need to find partners whose English is at the same level as my Spanish, but those are fairly thin on the ground in Spain. Anyway, I'd rather just have regular conversations in Spanish with people here, without worrying about giving equal time to both languages. Does that make me selfish? Maybe. But like I said, I moved halfway around the world to speak Spanish, so that's what I want to do!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-tn2j4H2E35w5vNanbhf8NvHFY1i4pTk6qq3ZjUCFjSd9ysgu9SrN0-sqXJMg0ZmFLXgc_Vg4m1uQgkUshP4FQZT6AkIS9fRCRaDR7mtZz9WVMuH5u6q-i1KCs71xAgf4Tln8mSNj_V5G/s1600/DSC_0034.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-tn2j4H2E35w5vNanbhf8NvHFY1i4pTk6qq3ZjUCFjSd9ysgu9SrN0-sqXJMg0ZmFLXgc_Vg4m1uQgkUshP4FQZT6AkIS9fRCRaDR7mtZz9WVMuH5u6q-i1KCs71xAgf4Tln8mSNj_V5G/s1600/DSC_0034.jpg" width="160" /></a></div>
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Funnily enough, this was almost never a problem in France. Maybe it's because they're so stereotypically snooty about speaking any language other than their own. Or perhaps it's because they're embarrassed that they have <a href="http://www.ef.edu/epi/spotlights/europe/">the worst English in Europe</a> (apart from Russia, the Ukraine and Turkey, which...are not really Europe, not to me). Hardly anybody ever forced me to speak in English, although they made an awful lot of mean comments about my French at first. But at the same time, they love to take English words and <i>franglais</i> them because <i>c'est cool. </i>I don't know, France is bizarre. But at least I got to practice a helluva lot of French while I was there!<br />
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If I weren't a native English speaker, I like to imagine that I wouldn't have these problems. People wouldn't give me so much unwanted attention for my native language. I would probably be really happy to speak English, because it would be a chance for me to practice too. I could feel proud of my English, as something I'd worked hard on, rather than something I was basically born with. Alas, <strike>earwax</strike> that will never be the case. For better or for worse, English is and always will be my first language, and I can't escape the fact that the downsides come with the enormous advantages. I guess I'll just have to learn to concentrate more on the benefits of it, like the fact that when I go to Prague for two days, no one expects me to learn Czech, and I get to just speak my first language the whole time with no problems.<br />
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I do have to say, as well, that even as I was writing this I was feeling the obnoxiousness of my privilege. "<i>Waaah</i> everyone wants to learn my native language to improve their lives, and I just want to either be left alone or make a profit off of them and they won't let me!" Also, <i>"Waaah</i> people won't let me practice a second language that I'm only learning because I think it's fun, when in truth I have no real pressing need to learn <i>any</i> foreign language because I'm a native speaker of the world's lingua franca!" I know, poor poor me.<br />
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But I would love it if people would see me for who I am, instead of as an English machine. That would be pretty awesome. Just sayin'.<br />
<br />Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6563159939055819255.post-71895124066436902172015-04-16T21:44:00.000+02:002015-05-10T18:35:36.124+02:00My LatelyI've been super super superrrrrr busy lately. As usual, I guess, but I feel as though my free time has been down to almost zero, what with one thing and another. It's that time of year when everything is beginning to come to a head--my students are about to take their official English exams, my master's thesis is due in less than a month, I'm searching for jobs for next year and doing interviews, and the weather is starting to be nice and I just want to sit around outside!<br />
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April flowers bring May...I don't know what!</div>
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I also want to make some plans for the future, but that's very difficult to do when I have no idea what the future holds after I graduate and finish my current teaching contract at the end of June. Maybe I'll find another job soon, or maybe I'll have to keep looking for a while. I don't know <a href="http://alisabroad.blogspot.com.es/2014/04/how-time-flies.html">how many times</a> I've talked about how I'm tired of this uncertainty. I really want some more stability in my life, to not be constantly jumping from one job to another! Still working on making that a reality.<br />
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In the meantime, here are some things that have been running through my head and my life lately.<br />
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Recently, I've been...<br />
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<b>Reading</b>: <u>De tempête et d'espoir: Saint-Malo</u> by Marina Dédéyan, which is a novel in French about the town where I used to live in France and a girl living there in the 1700s. I got it from the English coordinator at the school I used to work at, and I've been trying to finish it since about September. It's really good, but reading in French is so <b>haaard, waaah! </b>It probably didn't help that I took a break to start also reading the <u>After Cilmeri </u>series, by Sarah Woodbury. This series is right up my alley, as it's about some contemporary Americans who time travel back to Wales in the 12th century and end up involved in local politics. I read 6 books in two weeks, I got so hooked!<br />
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<b>Listening to</b>: Kendji Girac's <i>Andalouse,</i> which, yes, is awfully mainstream for what my taste usually is, since the singer comes from basically the French equivalent of The Voice. But it's in French AND Spanish, and it just makes me wants to dance! Good danceable music is hard to come by, and I'm not too much of a snob to listen to anything that gets my toes tapping.<br />
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<b>Worrying about</b>: Where I will be living and working next year. Applying for jobs is incredibly stressful, and I will be relieved when I have this all figured out! Then I can start planning some more fun stuff in my future, like trips!<br />
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<b>Writing</b>: The final draft of my thesis. I just want to finish this and turn it in already. I'm so over dedicating my weekends to writing and editing this one paper!<br />
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<b>Trying</b>: To stop drinking coffee and to meditate before bed every night. I recently decided that I wanted to reduce my intake of milk and sugar, as well as caffeine, so during Lent I gave up "necessary" coffee (meaning I only drank it on the weekends, for pure enjoyment, rather than when I was tired during the work week). I noticed that I actually started to feel MORE alert after awhile of reducing my caffeine intake, and so I've developed the theory that caffeine depletes my energy supply even faster because it makes me super energetic for a short time, and then even more tired afterwards. I'm back to drinking coffee occasionally now, but toying with the idea of going back off it again. I've also started meditating before bed every night, which has multiple benefits, like making me think more positively, appreciate the small things around me, imagine a great future, and also relax and fall asleep more easily. The one small glitch with this is that sometimes I fall asleep before I finish the meditation, but at least I'm no longer laying awake at night worrying!<br />
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<b>Watching</b>: Not a whole lot besides rewatching How I Met Your Mother in French, but I'd like to get caught up in Mad Men so I can watch the rest of the final season as it airs!<br />
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<b>Eating</b>: Loads of fresh asparagus and strawberries. It's crazy to me that what I consider "early summer" (June) foods are already in season in Spain! Not complaining though, especially at low low Spanish prices!<br />
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<b>Craving</b>: A Chicago-style deep-dish pizza. This isn't even something that I eat that often when I'm home, but my GOD do I want one right now, probably simply because I can't. There are tons of types of other pizza, but nothing that compares to a good deep-dish.<br />
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<b>Missing</b>: My family. This is constant, of course, but I just saw some lovely pictures of their trip to Florida a few weeks ago, and I really wished I could have been there. And visiting my friend's family in Galicia made me think about how nice it is to see the people you love, and how it's been a really long time since I have!<br />
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<b>Wishing</b>: The (free) food at in the school's cafeteria were more varied. I shouldn't bite the hand that feeds me (literally, ha), but I do wish the menu in our school's lunchroom featured more than the same couple of meals repeated over and over ad infinitum.<br />
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<b>Feeling</b>: Mostly content, as I try to not get caught up in the little annoyances of life and try to just appreciate the ride.<br />
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<b>Grateful</b>: That I just had a visit from a dear friend from Germany. It had been over a year and a half since I'd seen her, and it was great to catch up. Plus we're both kind of in transitional phases of our lives right now, so it was nice to talk about that to someone who totally gets it!<br />
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<b>Waiting for</b>: My four-year-olds to finish recording their CDs of the songs we've been practicing all year, so I never have to hear those songs ever again! I'm pretty sure being made to listen to the same ten children's songs in bad English at least 3 times a week for 9 months constitutes psychological torture. They may be forever stuck in my head!<br />
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<b>Excited about</b>: The fact that there are only 10 weeks until graduation. Only two more master's classes, handing in our thesis, and that's all she wrote! I'm excited, and of course a bit nervous to see what's next and if I'll be able to apply everything I've learned in the real world.<br />
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<b>Loving</b>: My students. I've really loved getting to know them on an individual basis this year, since I've been able to spend so much more time with my classes than I ever had in any of my jobs in the past. I'm so proud of them every time I notice them making progress, and I love that feeling.<br />
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Notes like this don't hurt, either!</div>
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<b>Wanting</b>: Time to both speed up and slow down at the same time. I can't wait to be done, and yet afterwards there is a big question mark, and that's more than a little terrifying. I know things will work out as they always do, but sometimes I worry anyway.<br />
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<b>Hoping</b>: This transitional stage is one of the last major ones I have to go through in the next few years. All the stress is starting to give me wrinkles!<br />
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<b>Planning</b>: A trip to Catalunya in a few weeks for my first-ever blogging conference!<br />
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<b><br /></b> <b>What's your lately like?</b><br />
<b><br /></b> <b><br /></b>Alisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02183048846172777065noreply@blogger.com0