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!

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!

Bastille Day...in America

I hope all my Frenchies had a joyeux fête nationale!

Personally, I was feeling a little sad to have left just before the big day. I love seeing how other countries celebrate their national holidays...how excited they get, the music, the dancing, the patriotism.

I've actually been in France before during Bastille Day (as we call it in America, much to the consternation of my French friends). During my first Eurotrip in 2006 with my parents, we luckily happened to be in Paris on July 14th. We saw jets flying over our heads, all the museums were free, and there were fireworks over the sparkly Eiffel Tower (seen from the parking lot of our hotel, due to the overprotectiveness of my parents, worried about their young daughter getting too close to a crowd of rowdy FOREIGNERS...if only frustrated teenage me could see me now, doing just that every single day of my life!). Anyway, it was glorious.

But now, after having lived in France for a year, being there for Bastille Day would have meant so much more to me. I would have loved to have spent it with des français, learning the real scoop.

But it was not to be. The visa for my next Spain adventure required that I come home to the US of A for the summer, so no fête nationale en France for me. Queue one bummed francophile.

However, said visa also required me to be in downtown Chicago le 14 juillet, and for that I thank my lucky stars. I was just walking down Michigan Avenue, on the way back to the car from my appointment at the Spanish consulate, when a French flag on a bus stop advertisement caught my eye. Mesmerized, I moved toward it until I could read what it said: there was a block party happening on Daley Plaza to celebrate Bastille Day, and it was starting in 10 minutes!

Being a sometimes impulsive person, there was no hesitation in my mind--I was going to that party. Better than sitting in rush hour traffic on the way home, I say!

The first thing that caught my eye as I walked up was that there was a group of people playing pétanque. Never in my life has a game meant for 80-year-old men made me so happy. There they were, a group of octogenarian Chicagoans, proudly representing the Chicago Pétanque Society (apparently this exists), throwing heavy balls, seeing who could come the closest to another, slightly lighter ball. And I was overjoyed to see them.

And then there were the waiter races! People decked out in French flag aprons, running around the square to serve "wine" to patrons, seeing who could do it the fastest. Entertaining? Oh, yes. Add that to the stands selling crêpes, galettes, vin, et macarons, and I was in 7th heaven.

 It's been hard, these past few weeks, being in a place where most people's idea of France consists of a country full of smelly, hairy-armpitted people who walk around going "oh ho ho" all the time. So walking into a square full of people who could understand me when I said un crêpe beurre sucre, s'il vous plaît, that really meant something. I'm not alone. I'm not an alien, and France isn't a place that I dreamed up one night, even if no one here at home cares. There are other people who love France et les français as much as I do, and being surrounded by them, even just for a few hours, was something I'd really needed.

So when they played La Marseillaise (the French national anthem), I couldn't help but smile as all the people around me started to sing. They know what I feel. Their singing said "la France me manque," (I miss France), just like my heart says.

Merci, Chicago, for bringing a small slice of France here to me. That's exactly what I needed.