“Decir ‘Adiós’
es morir un poco”
Just as it was before I left 3 and a half months ago to come
here, I have so many emotions floating around in my head and my heart that I
can’t even begin to categorize or make sense of them. Happy? Sad? Anxious?
Nervous? Excited? Heartbroken? If I had to pick just one, I guess the best
fitting word would be: ready.
When I left for Spain, I was ready to start a new adventure;
ready to see the world, meet new people, and make new experiences and memories
for myself. I can honestly now say that I have successfully done all of that
and more while I have been away from home. However, now that it is just about
to come to a close in less than three ever so short days, I am also ready for
this chapter of my life’s adventure to come to an end, and to return to the one
place that I miss the most: home.
I can’t believe that it has all come and gone so quickly. I can
write it down, I can say it out loud, but three days still feels so far away. It
feels like the day that I come home will never arrive, like it is always just
slightly out of my grasp. But at the same time, isn’t that how the feeling of
home always seems to be? Once you leave, you can never really “go back” even
though they say you always can. Sure, once you grow up, move out, go away to
college, whatever and wherever it is that your life takes you, you can return
to visit, but somehow… it isn’t ever really the same, is it? I know that the
word “home” has a different connation for all, but for me, I can now see more
than one place in my head when I think of home.
The first images are ones of my lime green bedroom in my parents’
home; a backyard full of trees and brambles; my little sisters smiling face; my
parents cooking breakfast in the kitchen; my cat sunbathing on the front porch…Saugatuck.
Lake Michigan over the top of a sandy dune, with the sun shining in every
direction, sending glimmering shimmers across the water which seems to go on
forever and ever…Mount Pleasant. Central Michigan University; my apartment; my
beautiful roommates; my best friends; Beta Theta Pi…Sevilla, Spain…
Sevilla has come to grow into a home that I never imagined
that it could become. I knew that I had already fallen in love with it before I
even stepped off of my first plane ride ever, but what I did not know was how
important it would become in my life and how much it would hurt me to leave it
behind, now. A part of my heart will always stay here.. .within the winding
streets and alleys, among the towers of the Giralda, between the flowers and
hedge mazes of the Real Alcazar, floating on the gentle rolling tides of the
Guadalquivir River, dancing in the fountains of Plaza de Espana, roaring in the
stands with the fans of Real Betis F. C. , dancing quick time to a flamenco
beat, pulsing with the rhythm of the discoteca, drifting through the air that
smells sweet like orange blossoms and incense, and at the end, softly crying,
watching one last sunset over the bridge before I make the last walk home with
Ebony.
Ebony. Leaving her will be like leaving a part of my heart
behind in yet another place. I cannot believe how impossibly close we have
grown over the past months, and I can’t even image a world without her in it. I
know that I have made a forever friend and Spanish sister in her, and I can’t
wait for our roadtrips to see each other as the years continue on.
Years seem to be such a fleeting thing these days, though. Although
my time here has passed so quickly and yet so slowly, I have begun to realize
that my time in college is also about to fly by just as fast, leaving me just
as breathless and caught off guard. Where does the time go when we are not
looking and when we’re too busy, out having fun? The sunlit days and moonlit
nights all blur together, and before we know it, we’re saying dreaded goodbyes,
and closing the doors on things. But then new days always follow, and we open
new doors, say ‘hello’ and ‘I missed you’, and ‘nice to meet you’.
But ‘goodbye’ is always the hardest of words to say, it
seems, no matter how many new hellos come in its place. I have made so many
good friends here, and seen so many beautiful things, that as much as I miss
home and am dying to go back to it, I can’t bear the thought of seeing all
these things go away. The difference is, when you leave home, you know that it
is always going to be there, never changing, waiting for you to come back. It is
just as it was, but yet you are not as you once were, and nor can you go back
to being so. Spain has forever changed my life, and I have become a different
person in many ways from studying abroad. I have learned how to: successfully travel
on my own, make plans on the go in a split second decision moment, communicate
in two foreign languages with more fluency and proficiency, accept things,
situations, and people for who they are in a more open minded manner, be an independent
woman, read maps, be brave, be strong, be FREE.
For someone who had never stepped foot on an airplane or
gone west of the Mississippi up until four months ago, those are some pretty exciting
accomplishments! I can successfully say that after this study abroad
experience, that I have now seen 4% of the world, holy cow! It may not seem
like a lot, but I am thrilled with that statistic. I have travelled in planes,
trains, cars, buses, bikes, taxis, boats, and camels; I have eaten foods that I
never before would have dared to try in my life; I have handled situations that
I never thought before that I could handle; I have lived in a foreign country,
and been absolutely enthralled with it. I have now visited: 2 continents, 5 countries,
and 15 cities.
This is not to say that there were not “bad” moments where I
got sad, or missed home, or had too much school work to go out and play for the
day, but overall, the great moments outweigh the negative ones 100 to 1.
Right now, memories are just flashing through my mind like
photographs. I can picture our very first days here in Sevilla, and how nervous
I was, but also how excited I was. It felt like the whole city was so huge and
vast that I would never be able to find my way around it. But now, I can’t
imagine getting lost here! Navigating the little winding streets that spill out
onto grand plazas filled with couples strolling hand in hand and kids playing
soccer and laughing in delight all seem second nature to me. it’s going to take
a lot to get used to walking out of school and, number one, not being able to
walk anywhere! Here, I can walk everywhere and anywhere I like. At home in good
ole Michigan, this is near impossible! However, I do miss my car more than
words can express, and I am dying to put the pedal to the medal and roll all
the windows down and just drive and drive and drive…
After all the trips that I have gone on, and all the places
that I have seen, it is so surreal to think that the next plane I go on will be
the one that is taking me home. Will home be the same now that I am different? Will
I still fit into the places where I once belonged, or will the places and
people have evolved, changed, and grew as much as I have? I don’t know what has
been going on in some of my best friends lives, just as much as they don’t know
what has been going on in mine. Will our worlds be able to meld back together
with ease, or will there be tension? I have a strong feeling that the reverse
culture shock is going to hit a lot harder and feel a lot weirder than the
culture shock hit me when I landed in Spain. In an odd way, I feel as if I was
sort of always meant to be here. The Spanish lifestyle is definitely something
different than the life I lead back at home, but it was also surprisingly easy
and comfortable to fall into it. It felt just as natural as breathing to wake
up in the morning, eat a light breakfast, walk to school and enjoy the lovely weather
and the breathtaking sites, sit in small, discussion based classes where the
professors are all on a first name basis, and then return home for a big lunch
of the freshest foods, take a siesta, wake up and do homework, relax, admire
the city from the rooftop, and then enjoy every night as it came. As much as I enjoy
having my own room at home and at my apartment, I will very much miss lying in
bed every night and talking to Ebony until we both fell asleep. It was like a
four month long sleepover, what more could you ask for?
My final weekend in Spain was perfect, and I am so lucky
that I got to spend it with my Cheetah Girls: Ebony, Keslie, and Vasanthi. On Friday,
after we finished some of our exams, we went out to a discoteca called Abril,
and danced our feet off until 5 in the morning, just like true Spaniards. The night
life here is certainly something else, and I was glad that we got to have one
last go at it before it came to an end. On Saturday, we all went to Triana to
do some shopping and walk on the riverside, and today, we went to Plaza de
Espana and made fools of ourselves in the rowboats, splashing around. After lunch
and a siesta, Ebony and I went to a bullfight, something that I still have
mixed feelings about. This is how it works:
There are six bulls, and 6 toreros (matadors). In the
beginning, all of the toreros, their ‘assistants’, and the men on horses file into the bull ring for a prayer and a
moment of silence out of respect for the bulls. Then, after everyone leaves the
ring, the first torero goes back in alone. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a huge
black bull with gleaming horns comes rushing into the ring. As the torero
glides his red cape back and forth, dodging the massive, angry bull, the two
dance from side to side, testing each other’s strength. Let it be known that in
Spain, bull fighting is HUGE. It might even be tied, or even more popular, than
soccer, which is saying something. There is a huge amount of respect placed on
both the bulls and the toreros, since both are raised to play the parts that they
do. The crowd loves a torero who can taunt and tease the bull without getting
hurt, yet they also love a toro who is big, bold, fast and strong enough to
defy the torero and graze him with its horns, or tear his cape away from him. The
people love a bull who can show just how brave and strong he is, with no fear
of the man in front of him. Before the fight, the torero throws his cap to the
ground, showing his respect for the animal that he is about to challenge, and
by the rules of the game, eventually kill. After the bull gets agitated, men on
horses come out. The horses are in a thin layer of padding, and heavily sedated
so that they cannot run. Then the bull charges. It literally lifts the horse
into the air with its horns and thrashes it around. This is to further agitate
the bull. However, at this time, the man riding the horse also has a spear,
that he is trying to stab into the bull as it charges the horse. This is when
the blood starts and where is starts to just get ugly. Now the bull is super
mad, and three men with brightly colored spears shaped like bowling pins come
out and have to try and jab them into the bulls back. Once they do, the torero
comes out again, and once more, it is just him and bull in a final dance till
the end. Once again, the people like a show. They don’t want to torero to fail,
so they want it to be a fast kill, however, they also like a see the bull put
up a damn good fight in the process. But even when the bull is tired, bleeding,
foaming at the mouth, and swaying, it is hard as hell to take him down. These bulls
are born and bred just for this purpose. They are given the best lifestyle that
any bull could dream of. Just to die within 30 minutes. Eventually, the torero
is able to drive his curved sword into the flesh of the bull, and down he goes.
Then another man comes in and stabs him in the neck, in a spot where he dies
instantaneously, supposedly. Then the bull is hooked up the horses, and dragged
out of the ring, leaving a trail of blood in the dirt behind it. You can
imagine what the ring must look like after six bulls or more…however, at the
end, if the crowd deems that the bull was worthy and put up a valiant fight,
they all stand up and fiercely cheer and applaud, waving white handkerchiefs in
his honor. Then they also throw roses into the ring for the torero, to reward
his bravery as well. I couldn’t help but cry during the entire fight.
So here we are. So close to the end, almost full circle. Surreal,
don’t you think? A bullfight symbolizing the circle of life and death and the
finality of all things; how some people die so others can benefit (every piece
of the bulls meat goes to feed the hungry in Sevilla). And here I am once
again, just as I was in the beginning, with a swirling mind and an uneasy
heart.
See you in three days, America.
