The Ghosts of June Present: 2016 Edition

It 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.

At about this time a year ago, I wrote a post 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.

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.

So, Future!Alisa and Past!Alisa, this one's for you.

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?

2016

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!

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)

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)

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

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 know 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!

In Which I Am Mildly Obsessed With Fall Colors

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 exist 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.

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.

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 was a typical gas-guzzling American who hated sustainability and exercise and hadn't ridden a bike since I was 10 years old was unused to biking as a serious means of transportation, let's check out some of the photos I was so excited about taking!

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. 

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 while still riding was not my brightest idea ever. #fail

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, then take pictures.

Another thing I have to say I'm happy about is to even have 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. 

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!

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 nice 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.

Whatever my issue is, get used to the cold and dark and ice and snow I must, and so I will (try)! 

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.

¡Feliz otoño a todos!

Alisathome Answers Travel Questions

In 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?

Alisathome's adventures are a bit more *ahem* tame...like exercise in the woods!

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?

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.

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."

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.

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.

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?

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.

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 Indie Travel Podcast.

Me and Linda at about this time last year

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 international travelers' club, we formed a bond that I still look back on fondly.

Linda wrote a blog post 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!

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, "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus," never tickle a sleeping dragon. ;-)

So without further ado, Linda's travel questions and my answers.

Questions: 

1. Why do you travel?

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?"

Nothing makes me feel more alive than experiencing new parts of the world!

2. Suitcase or backpack? 

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.

3. What luxury item do you take with you? 

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).

4. Who do you like to travel with? 

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!

Again, not at all to diss traveling with my parents...we had a blast in Estonia this past summer!

5. What’s great about your hometown? 

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.

6. Do you ever feel tired of traveling? 

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 ennui while on the road, of course, but it's also good to know how you travel best, and for me that's in shorter spurts.

7. What’s the most challenging thing about travel?

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.

8. Tell me about a moment when you felt really happy. 

Hmmm....when I was backpacking around Morocco during Semana Santa 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.

Delicious tea in our Moroccan guide's home

9. What have you only recently learned about travel or about yourself? 

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.

10. Which travel destination would you love to go back to? 

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 misfortunate incident at the Blue Lagoon, so it kind of needs a do-over.

If only travel were as easy as hopping in a blue police box...

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 ganas to write about them! 

Where Is Home?

I seem to have an innate inability to give a simple answer to a simple question.

What's your name? 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. Bref, it's really /əlɪsə/. A homophone of Alyssa, not Elisa.

How many brothers and sisters do you have? 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.

Where are you from? 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?

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.

Is home the little town near Chicago where I was born and raised?

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 they consider home, up in Wisconsin. So although Northern Illinois is where I was raised, I'm not sure if it's home anymore.

Is home Alcalá de Henares, where I currently live?

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.

Is home Orono, Bilbao, Vigo, or Saint-Malo?

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.

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.

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?

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?

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?

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?

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.

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!

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...

Once more unto the breach!

An Argument for Places With Bad Weather

Bilbao

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.

I know people think I'm strange for saying this, but I love 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."

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. 

I was a figure skater for 15 years, after all...

However, I also have more philosophical reasons, things that I think touch on the core of my personality type. 

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%. 

What I do 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! 

Maine

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. 

Maine

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.

Illinois

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. 

Cañones do Sil, Galicia

Bad weather on the ocean can also be breathtaking. One of the most amazing moments in my life was watching the grandes vagues (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! 

St. Malo, Brittany

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!

Vigo, Galicia

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 did feel like going outside and appreciating nature, it was really worth my while! 

Near Santiago, Galicia

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!

Near Edinburgh, Scotland

Lisbon, Portugal

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!

Near where I lived in St. Malo, Brittany

Gorgeously moody skies in Bilbao, Spain

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! 

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. 

Especially if it's a double rainbow, like this one in Liverpool, England!

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! 

And you? Do you have more of a sunny disposition, or a moody cloudy one? 

Sometimes I Wish I Weren't an Anglophone

It 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.

And yet I sometimes wish I didn't speak English as my first language. 

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.

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?

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 "ya tengo un nativo," I already have a native.

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, a native. 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?

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.

"Oh, you're American!?"
"Yes."
"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!"

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 "NOT!"

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 I am, 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?

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?

 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 do 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 friends 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.

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.

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!

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 the worst English in Europe (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 franglais them because c'est cool. I don't know, France is bizarre. But at least I got to practice a helluva lot of French while I was there!

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, earwax 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.

I do have to say, as well, that even as I was writing this I was feeling the obnoxiousness of my privilege. "Waaah 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, "Waaah 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 any foreign language because I'm a native speaker of the world's lingua franca!" I know, poor poor me.

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'.

On Negativity in the Classroom

Something that occasionally annoys me about some (usually older) Spaniards is that they complain all the time. I'm no saint in this area myself, but I do feel that it's a problem and it's something I'm working on. In English, we have a saying: "No one likes a Negative Nancy."

I'm actually not sure if there's an equivalent in Spanish, but I wouldn't be surprised if there weren't.

Spaniards have a habit of being very direct--it's almost embedded into their language, and most definitely into their culture. For example, it isn't seen as at all rude here to comment on someone's weight or appearance. Over the years, I've been told I'm looking fat, that I'm looking too thin, that I look tired, that I look really sick...all serious no-no's in English.

What do you MEAN, I look fat today??

...Now that we've established that sometimes Spaniards like to tell me I look like crap, where was I going with this...?

Ah, yes. So Spaniards tell it like it is. When I say "We're past the winter solstice, from here on out, the days are getting longer! Spring is coming!" they look at me darkly and say "The worst of the cold is yet to come, you'll see," all sinister-like, as though there were no point in looking forward to spring.

Um, OK, great, thanks, guys... That makes me feel so much better...

"The sun will come out tomorrow?" More like, you will never see the sun EVER AGAIN! BWAHAHAHA!

That sounds trite, but their defeatism really frustrates me when we're talking about more serious things than the weather. For example, the students at the schools I've worked at. Occasionally, when certain students or classes really misbehave, I will hear teachers make comments like "They're all going to end up in jail one day," as though that were a fact, and all we have to do is put up with them until they day they can be safely locked away.

Another gem I've heard, in reference to students from different backgrounds who are far behind their classmates and really struggling, is "That student can't learn. [He/She] is lazy, because [he/she] is from (such and such foreign country)." So that takes any responsibility away from the teacher in needing to help them. It's a lost cause, so why try?

Aside from being really shockingly racist, this upsets me because if the teacher is instilling in the kids the idea that they are bad and can do no better than they are right now, why would they try to improve?

Maybe I'm just a naïve young teacher, but I think we shouldn't be saying such negative things to or about young people, especially within their earshot. I really prefer to think that there is hope for everyone, and perhaps instead of just constantly complaining about how "impossible" some of our students are, we should instead recognize that they are the ones who need our help the most.

Yes, I've been at the end of my rope just like everyone else; I've had those frustrating days where I'm at my wits' end and feel like I will never get through to such and such kid or class. I've often felt like I really don't know what I'm doing. But I still want to, have to, think that there is hope for everyone. If not, why are we even teaching? Just to get a paycheck? That seems like truly the wrong reason to be molding young minds, if you ask me.

I'm not saying that all Spaniards are like this, and I'm certainly not saying that American teachers are necessarily better. I'm just saying that right now, today, this fatalistic mindset is really bugging me, and I want to tell every single Spanish teacher, from every school I've worked in, to take those minutes they usually spend moaning about how little José (for example) is impossible to deal with and instead use them trying to think of ways to give him extra attention.

He's not a lost cause until you make him believe he is.

2014 in Pictures: Part 2: America and Spain

July

I started the second half of 2014 freshly landed in America. Literally the day after I arrived back, (part of) my family took off for West Virginia to visit my sister, her husband and their new baby. It's a beautiful, underrated part of the country, and we had fun playing around in front of pretty scenery! It's always great to be around family, especially being silly.

While we were already out that way, we took an educational "field trip" to show my eldest niece and nephew Washington DC. It reminded me of my very first plane ride and excursion without my parents, during my 8th grade class trip out there. And I also realized what a cool, hip city DC is! Even in the sweltering 40ªC heat (plus humidity, blegh).

Since my nephew (yes, the boy who is taller than me...unbelievable!) missed his own 8th grade class trip to DC, I was sort of his tour guide, showing him the things I remembered from my other couple of trips out there. But this place I couldn't, because it's new...it's the World War II monument. Having just come from a very WWII-centered vacation, seeing the American monument meant much more to me than usual!

Next up was the Fourth of July. I'm not the most patriotic of Americans, but I do love celebrations of all kinds and am very enamored of fireworks and grilled foods, so it's actually a holiday I quite like! Also, don't we have a pretty flag?

Back in Illinois, I wasted no time in partaking of those foods that I severely crave over in Europe...such as Chicago-style deep dish pizza. Om nom nom. 

Trying to take advantage of the fun quirky things in my home area, I also spent a day with my mom at the Bristol Renaissance Faire, one of my favorite annual summer activities. Being a huge history and costumes nerd, this place is right up my alley! Plus this year, my mom got picked to be Little Red Riding Hood in one of the theatrical productions, which was pretty hilarious!

August

Being that I only had so much time at home, I tried to spend as much of it as possible with my family, especially my beloved nephews and niece, who I miss dearly when I'm gone. It's nice to do really simple activities that remind me of my own childhood, like berry picking up at the old family farm!

As I had a relatively urgent matter to take care of in downtown Chicago (new Spanish visa!), and also since that's where a few of my old friends live now, I spent a fair amount of time down there this summer. I really like feeling like a part of the hustle and bustle for a little bit, and there's always something new to discover!

It wasn't too long (although at times it felt like it...not working and not traveling aren't my favorite activities) before it was time to say hasta luego once again to America and head off to my newest Spain adventure...but not before a few airport hugs and tears shed, as always.

And suddenly, I was back in Spain, something I'd never in a million years expected when I thought I left for good a year before this. Reentry was both glorious and difficult, as I remembered both the wonderful and frustrating aspects of this country that had captured my unwilling heart. This beautiful central plaza of Alcalá de Henares definitely counts as one of the more amazing aspects, though!

September

The beginning of September was spent exploring my new town, and remarking on just how different it is from everywhere I've lived in Spain before...namely, it's pretty darn typically Spanish, unlike Galicia or the Basque Country!

One of these oh-so-typically-Spanish things about Alcalá de Henares is that it's (supposedly) the home of Miguel de Cervantes, the Shakespeare of Spanish literature and author of Don Quixote, the novel about the crazy would-be knight who battles windmills with his pudgy friend Sancho Panza. Might sound familiar? Literary history warms the cockles of my former-English-major heart, so I was pleased to find myself living in a place with so much of it!

Beginning to explore my nearby surroundings, I took a daytrip to the nearest town in another communidad, Guadalajara in Castilla La Mancha, only about half an hour down the cercanías line. It was a cute little city, and I particularly liked this gorgeous church!

Next up was another short trip with my new gal pals, this time to Valencia, one of the few major Spanish cities I'd never visited. I'm glad to have finally had the chance, if for nothing more than the food! Valencian paella is seriously a million times better than the kind made anywhere else in the country, I swear. And their horxata and fartons, oh man. Take me back there, please?

October

I spent part of October exploring Madrid a little more, and one day when I was wandering around down in Sol, I ran into this protest against the monarchy. Since old King Juan Carlos abdicated over the summer, many Spaniards have felt it's time to do away with the monarchy (which retains a certain tie to the Franco era, and also has been plagued with recent scandals regarding money and corruption) and embrace full democracy. From a sociological point of view, I found this truly fascinating!

Alcalá is a cool city because it embraces its history so much. So, every year in the middle of October, they hold a medieval market and fair to celebrate Cervantes' baptism (as his exact birthdate is unknown). I liked looking at the wares of all the different stalls, seeing geese walk the streets, and trying new foods!

With one of our nice new Spanish friends, one day in October we made a quick trip to another famous place I'd always been meaning to go to but hadn't visited yet--El Escorial. I thought the place was really beautiful, and I'm glad I finally made the effort to go!

Since I work at one of the bilingual English schools in the Communidad de Madrid, Halloween is a big deal there. I still refuse to play to the Spanish convention that it needs to be scary (I dressed up as a unicorn), but I like celebrating it. These are some of the hundreds of sucker ghosts I made as a present for my little students. So much work, but so worth it to see their awed faces!

November

November was the end of our Indian summer in Spain, and it found me making a trek back up to mi pueblo (ha), Vigo. Surprise surprise, it was raining when I got there!

Vigo is where my Spanish "brother" and "sister" live, and I was so happy to be back with them, and to surprise the former for his birthday! Combined with returning to the city that I love best in Spain, it was very nearly a perfect weekend.

November wasn't the easiest of months, however, as one morning I woke up to one of those life-changing, devastating whatsapps, that my last grandparent had passed away. The subsequent frantic chaos to get off work and get to Arizona for her funeral, all while feeling so sad and helpless and far away, was one of the more trying bits of my life so far, but I got through it and was glad to be there for my family, who all gathered together to say a proper goodbye. 

Arizona holds some of my fondest vacation memories from my childhood. As it was my Ramblin' Rose of a grandmother who was the one to first settle part of the family there (so far from her own Midwestern hometown), reflecting on the things I love about this beautiful state made me feel closer to her. I also feel like I partially have her to thank for some of the restless nature, wandering spirit, and fierce female independence that have led me to Spain in the first place. So, traveling to her faraway home from my own felt like a fitting tribute to a woman who blazed the trail for all fearless women to follow, in a time when that was no easy task. To her and all others like her, I can only say thank you.

Perhaps it's fitting that the very next thing that came up right when I got home from my whirlwind trip to America was Thanksgiving. There's no better time than after having lost someone you loved to reflect on all you have, the wonderful people surrounding you, and all you're thankful for. I was too exhausted from jet-lag to do my usual full-on cooking extravaganza, so I just gathered together enough energy to make apple and pumpkin pie. Dessert is the most important part of any meal, right?

December

As we rolled on into December, I delved once again into my past and went back to the city that started it all, the city I left over 5 years ago now, Bilbao. I studied abroad there back in 2009, and the experience changed my life in more ways than I could have known back then. I didn't always love the city (or Spain, for that matter) while I was living there, but like many things, Bilbao is a place that grows on you. I have so many fond memories there, and although my current travel companions really hated it, I couldn't help but reflect on how lucky I was to have lived in such a cool alternative city.

It would be a shame to live so near Madrid and not go check out the center when it's all decked out for Christmas, which is exactly what I did one sunny day in December. Sol, Madrid's vibrant center, is where everyone is watching on December 31st, and where the big clock chimes 12 to ring in the New Year and prompts Spaniards everywhere to start gulping grapes like it's their job. (Imagine if it were, that would solve this whole crisis thing right quick! Ha. Ha.) 

After a flurry of Christmas activities at school and cooing over my babies shaking their tambourines at the 3 Kings, we were officially on Christmas break, so I took off straightaway on vacation, first to Zaragoza. I loooved the colorful Mudéjar-style tiles on the roof of Nuestra Señora del Pilar cathedral, and I am officially inspired to go search out more examples of this style of architecture.

After Christmas came and went, I was off back to my beloved France, to see a bit that I had dreamed of visiting since my early days studying French and reading Peter Mayle in high school--Provence! On my way there, I stopped off in some smaller towns that I ended up liking better than dingy Marseille, one of which was Carcassonne. I knew nothing of this town before stopping there on a whim one day, and I was utterly charmed by the gorgeous and very complete castle just outside the city center. 

After Carcassonne, I fell further in love with the Languedoc-Roussillon region when I visited Nîmes, which has a spectacularly well-preserved coliseum (much better than the one in Rome, in my humble opinion), as well as several other Roman ruins. Being a smaller city, it was also not too crowded or touristy, which I appreciate more and more the older I get!

I finished off 2014 in my own non-stereotypical way, feeling no guilt whatsoever about it (I so love that about getting older...who cares what other people think??). I spent New Years Eve not out partying, but in stuffing my face with all the French foods that I'd really been missing since my departure in June. A fitting end to a year that really taught me to love and rely on myself above all others, I'd say! 

2014 was quite a rollercoaster ride, and while I enjoyed the majority of it, I'm kind of hoping that 2015 manages to be a little calmer. However, no matter what happens, I have confidence that I can make it through anything, which I guess is the most important thing, in the end! 

I hope everyone's 2015 is getting off to an excellent start! So far so good on my end, no complaints about getting to travel more through southern France and then get hello hugs from my little students upon my return! Bonne année, feliz ano novo, urte berri on, feliz año nuevo, and Happy (late) New Year to all!