I THINK EVERY PERSON GRACED WITH A ZEAL FOR TRAVELING remembers that very moment when it all clicked. You suddenly realize that you can't just stay put. You have to remove yourself from the normal and teeter in the unknown. My click happened just a couple years ago in September of 2011 when I studied abroad in Spain. This was my first "unfamiliar pillow". Since then, I have traveled to five different countries and eight states. Amidst graduating from college and getting a big kid job, traveling is incessantly on my mind. If I am not traveling, I am planning my next trip. I am certainly cognizant of the fact that traveling costs money...so I also am constantly working two or three jobs to feed my addiction. This blog originated because my tiny 2x4 inch notebook where I scribbled down notes was a joke. I needed something official, where I could keep a record of all of my past unfamiliar pillows and those that I have yet to sleep on. I mean these memories are vivid now, but one day I will turn old and gray and forget some of the juicy details. Also, because I love to share my continued crazy adventures with family and friends, and anyone else with enough time on their hands to tune in to my rambling for paragraphs on end.
EVER SINCE MY GRAMMY TRAVELED TO ARCHEZ, SPAIN to visit our family, I wanted to study abroad. There was something so magical to me about the fact that she traveled across the world and walked through the pueblo where my great-great-great somethings went about their daily lives. She picked olives off the same trees they used (and still use) to make olive oil. She stood on the rooftop of the house that her parents and grandparents and great grandparents (Grammy- correct me if I'm wrong) raised their children, washed their clothes, cooked their meals. I wanted to do all of that because Grammy did it. It was finally my opportunity to discover our family history for myself. I had hand drawn family trees on butcher paper and I was very proud of that; but it was time to put faces to names...and Facebook didn't count! Sophomore year of college came around, and that meant one thing- time to plan my study abroad extravaganza. I had not yet done the deed and traveled abroad. I had made it just across the border to Tijuana on family vacations, but that doesn't really count. I actually had only been to a few places outside of California...New Orleans for a high school Faith In Action trip, and Dallas to surprise my cousin over spring break....ok and I guess you can count Nevada for those weekends spent in Tahoe and Reno. Still whichever way you look at it, I did not consider myself a traveler. I hadn't even been on a plane long enough to even know what jet lag felt like.
ALL I HAD TO DO was find a program that fit my major. It was tricky because I had just changed my major for the fourth time and decided I wanted to work in the entertainment industry after I graduated. I joined the Communication department and declared my emphasis in digital filmmaking. I was starting from scratch. The quarter before, I was oscillating between a Sociology and Theater double major...oh and Spanish minor. I was memorizing monologues and writing 20 page papers on the paradoxical relationship between parole officers and their parolees and then decided- hey you know what, I want to be a filmmaker. I want to work in TV. But hold the phone, I am going to go to Spain first then come back and take all the classes that people usually take over the course of four years in just one and a half. Yeah, it was a little crazy. But I wanted to go to Spain. That's all I cared about. So I found a program that somehow work towards completing the Comm and Film curriculum. And I went.
I REMEMBER info meetings in Benson. I remember officially choosing CIEE Seville- a 4 month Liberal Arts study abroad program in the heart of Andalusia, Spain. I remember running to Walgreens to get my passport pictures taken last minute. I also remember hating my picture. I remember reading travel books in Borders and taking endless notes, but never buying the books because my entire piddly life savings was going towards Spain. I remember the day I got accepted into the program and choosing classes online and bargaining with the registrar to get them to count for credit towards my major. I remember not succeeding...and then trying again. I remember getting my way in the end because I literally had no time to lose.
I AM A HUGE NERD. I love school. I love studying. Weirdly, I love writing papers. And in Spanish?! Yes, please. I would be taking a full load of classes: Mass Communication in Spain, Contemporary Spanish Film, La Novela y El Cine (Book and Film Comparative Analysis), and the Historical Projection of Three Cultures in Spain: Jews, Muslims, and Christians. I was beyond excited to be taking four classes, not only in Spanish, but in Spain. I'll be honest, though, I just wanted to travel. So I strategized. I scheduled all my classes for Tuesdays and Thursdays that way I had a long four day weekend. I went on an "excursión" every weekend for the 16 weeks I was there. My señora thought I was crazy. I don't blame her. Sometimes I would fly in Tuesday morning, after having slept in the airport Monday night, and I would catch a taxi straight to class...with the same luggage in hand that I had when I left class the Thursday before. I hit Portugal, Italy, Morocco, Madrid, Barcelona, two weekends with my family in Malaga and Palma de Mallorca; and practically all of Andalusia- Cadiz, Granada, and Cordoba among my favorites. Life in Sevilla was indescribable. It never ceased to amaze me. Day after day, walking along the river, through my neighborhood, Triana, eating tapas and drinking sangria, botellon'ing under the bridge, running through La Plaza de Espana, doing my tarea at la cafeterias....I absolutely adored Sevilla. My classes were challenging, but fascinating. My profesoras were demanding, but inspiring. My guias had become friends I would have for the rest of my life. My home stay was a dream. I never wanted to leave.
I ALMOST DIDN'T. I actually looked into staying another semester. But there is this thing called money...and I wasn't even running low, I just didn't have any more. The only way I was able to travel every weekend was because I babysat and tutored for two different families during the week. I made about 60-100 euros a week. Enough to pay for an overnight bus, a Ryanair flight, and a cheap hostel. My señora always sent me with a bocadillo and snacks for the road. That usually lasted me a day. Then I just had to get through the weekend. Anyway, where was I going with this? Right- I was a broke and had to go home.
FLASH FORWARD TO DECEMBER, I was packing my suitcase. I had the craziest, most frenzied 72 hour travel experience of my life (awesome story...for another blog entry). Long story short- spent 3 days in 5 different airports, went home with a stranger in Belgium (sorry Mom and Dad) because I was desperate for a good night's sleep, and finally arrived home to my family in California just two days before Christmas.
I OFFICIALLY KNEW WHAT JETLAG WAS. It sucked. But I couldn't wait to be jet lagged again.
**I blogged throughout most of my study abroad journey. You can read my stories here! http://vanessa-en-sevilla.blogspot.com/
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