The Ghosts of Junes Past

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. 

Although I'm not going to share any of those exact journal entries with the whole wide internet (far 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. 

I first left home at the ripe old age of 18, so that's where we'll start. 

2007

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.

Struggles: Not having a summer job, missing my ex-boyfriend

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

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

2008

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.

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

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

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

2009

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.

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

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

Hopes for the next year: To become fluent in Spanish and travel all around Europe

2010

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! 

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

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

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

2011

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 auxiliar de conversación 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!

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

Fears: That I would hate Spain again, that I had forgotten all my Spanish, that teaching would be a nightmare

Hopes for the next year: To travel a lot more around Europe, to finally have Spanish friends

2012

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 asar (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!

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

Fears: That I would never make close Spanish friends in Vigo, that my living situation would be as miserable as the year before

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

2013

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.

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

Fears: That I would hate living in France and regret leaving Galicia, that my French was awful and no one would understand me

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

2014

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. 

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

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

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

2015 (The Present Day)

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. 

Struggles: Trying to plan a big vacation while also doing 2-3 interviews a week, saying goodbye to all my beloved little students

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

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

So what have we learned from this exercise?

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?

But more importantly, the real value of seeing the things that haunted me in Junes past is noticing how insignificant they seem now. 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. 

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. 

Does that mean I can forget about them now? No, of course not.

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. 

In the end, that's my biggest hope for all future years: to know that qué será será and to learn to embrace that with open arms. 

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? 

Thesis, theses...

Am I the only person in the world who hates that the plural of thesis is theses? Sounds too much like a funny word...

Anyway!

I'm supposed to be writing my Master's thesis right now. Clearly, that's going really well, since you're currently reading these words on my blog post ABOUT my thesis which does not in any way help me get said thesis finished.

If you're curious why I might be writing a Master's thesis when you all just thought I was doing another year as an auxiliar de conversación in Spain, well, that's a story for a different day.

But struggling to write this thesis inevitably reminds me of another time and another thesis, when I was sitting angrily in front of my computer screen willing myself to just write actual words already. That was, of course, four years ago (has it really been that long??), when I was writing my undergraduate honors thesis.

At the time, I was struggling with the choice between taking a "year off" (ha) to teach abroad or going to graduate school for literary translation. Fittingly for the latter, my thesis was a translation of the poetry of one of my professors in Bilbao.

So day after day I would sit on the futon in my sad, tiny, freezing little all-brown student apartment, and try to get to work. I would tell myself, "Just translate one sentence. Just one. Go on, do it!"

The weather out my window quite often looked something like this (when people ask me what it was like to study in Maine, this is inevitably what comes to mind...this is also the type of scene that comes to mind when people try to complain about "cold weather" in Spain, and then I start to laugh). 

As the snow swirled outside for months on end and I drank a probably unhealthy number of cups of tea, little by little, poem by poem, snowday by snowday, I made progress on my thesis, until finally the day came when I defended it in front of 5 professors, who said I could go really far in the field of translation if I wanted, and I felt on top of the world.

Just a few days after that, I decided to take a position to teach English in A Cañiza, Spain.

Why do that if I could have been so great at translation and didn't want to be a teacher?

Well, the experience of writing that thesis had taught me that I had no desire to be self-employed and have to set my own deadlines. The idea of spending my future going through that struggle of self-revilement, procrastinating and feeling bad about it every single day, sounded like honest-to-god torture.

In the end, my "year off" to find myself turned into four, and find my profession I did. I ate my words about not wanting to be a teacher, since here I am, doing just that and loving this dynamic job that is different every day and does not require me to muster enormous amounts of self-discipline about writing long essays.

But as a cruel twist of fate, studying to become more qualified to teach leaves me right here right now, staring at my computer screen, fighting the exact same battle as four years ago. "Just write one sentence. Just one. Come on, do it!" Except now, I've been out of practice for four years, and my skills are a bit rusty. "Is that how you spell that word? Does that word even exist in English, or is it Spanglish? Does that sentence sound right? How do people say that in America? Is that British English or American?"

The battle to write just one sentence is up an even steeper hill than it was four years ago, and I am absolutely floundering. However, having done this once already, I do know that I can, and that helps immensely.

More importantly, it also reinforces my plan to continue in this profession and not switch over to higher education or back to translation! I can fight this battle from time to time, but I still say: every day, no frigging way. Give me teaching or give me death!