Home sweet home

I wanted to just write a final blog post to officially wrap it all up. I've been home now for just less than two months and it's been great. I've been so busy this summer with camps, college visits, drivers ed, and hosting my spanish host sister for the whole month of july. I haven't had much time to stop and think about what I've left behind in Spain, and for that, I don't think it's really hit me. I never really experienced the whole "reverse culture shock". Maybe I will later. Who knows. But like I said, being home has been great. My friends are still the crazy amazing girls I love and my family is still as strong as ever. I've even found that being away for a year has made my relationships with some people grow stronger.

Of course though, I'd be lying if I said Spain hasn't changed me. It's changed me in more ways than I'll ever know. It's changed me in the way I think, the way I view the world, other cultures, different people. I've grown a tolerance for uncomfortable situations and I've learned to accept differences, in cultures and people, as how they are. Although I've learned a lot about the spanish culture, and a whole lot of spanish, I definitely learned the most about myself in those 10 months. I just have a better understanding of myself. I can't explain to you really what that means.

Thanks to Spain, I've also uncovered my love for running. I've continued running here and actually began cross country this fall. Spain also reminded me how important family is and I'm so thankful for the one I have.

Exchange years aren't easy. They will throw you into the weirdest, most uncomfortable situations, and pull you in so many directions sometimes you feel like you might split down the middle, but in the end they will be worth it. You won't look at the world the same after. And I truly believe that no matter how rough some of the situations are, you will be benefited from it. I've become a stronger person because of this year.

Thank you all for an amazing year. Your support kept my head up and got me through it. I'm so thankful for the opportunity I had to study abroad and I hope to use my experiences in my future.

Gracias a todos en España quienes me ayudaban y me recibían con tanto cariño. Siempre estaré agradecida. Tenéis una casa en EEUU.

Muchos besos
Hasta siempre
Martha

No es un "Adios" es un "Hasta Luego"

Putting all these thoughts, all these emotions into coherent sentences is a whole lot harder than I thought it would be.

As I sit here, on my little green couch in my study on my last full day in Navia, I can't imagine ending this life. My suitcases are packed, my spanish flag is filled with signatures, and my passport lays on my nightstand, but still my brain doesn't register what's going on. I seem to always have the same problem. It didn't hit me that I was leaving the US until the day I said goodbye to my friends and family. I couldn't imagine seeing my parents for the first time in 7 months until I had them in my arms. So this time, why would I expect it to be any different? I can't wrap my head around the fact that in less than 24 hours, I'll be in the car on my way to Oviedo, to say goodbye to my family here in Spain, stay with my host aunt for the night, and then catch the bus early the next morning to Madrid.

I'm so glad I picked Spain as my country to study abroad. I could've gone to south america to learn spanish, and I'm sure I would've had an amazing experience, but there's something about the spanish culture. I can't put it into words. The relax, the siestas, the friendliness of strangers, the tapas, the fiestas, the loving nature of the Spaniards. It's a culture unlike any other. Now that I've adopted to this culture, I'm not going to leave behind all the things I love. Maybe somedays, you'll find me eating my lunch at 3:00 just because I feel like it. Or maybe, I'll take a little siesta after a long morning. I don't have to completely separate these two cultures that have now become a part of my life. Instead, I'm going to live a mix of the both. I know it will be hard readjusting to the american culture, but I know I can do it. I did it all by myself to a complete foreign culture, and now, I'm going to be doing it with my friends and family right behind me.

These 10 months have been the hardest 10 months of my life. Without a doubt. But they have also been so fulfilling. There were times when I didn't think I could make it. When I would've jumped right on the next plane home. But then, there were times when I would close my eyes, and think, "I'm so lucky." And thankfully, those times were more common than the others. An important thing I learned, is that this is my life. hahaha I know it sounds corny, but really. There are moments that suck, moments that are unreal, and moments so beautiful I wish I could relive them over and over again. All in all, this life is what I make it. It's in my control.

Yes, I am sad to leave this all behind, but I also think what it means that I'm returning home. It means a group of ten crazy best friends will finally be reunited. It means that a grandmother will soon be able to hug her only granddaughter again. It means that a mom and a dad who have lived "childless" for 10 months, will have both their kids under the same roof. It means I'll be able to learn how to drive, and eat all the food I've missed in these 10 months. It means that although it's hard, it's worth it.

There are no words I can say, or write, or even think of, to express how grateful I am to everyone who has helped me along the way. Friends, family, spanish, american, whoever you are, know that I wouldn't have made it without you. Special thanks to my two families. My spanish family, Bea, Suso, Javier and Lucia for being so loving and welcoming to me these 8 months. And to my american family, for being so supportive and strong for me when I most needed it. I hope one day, we can get all 8 of us under the same roof.

So for the last time from my little green couch in Spain,
Besos,
Martha

Am I fluent?

One of the most common questions I get asked by people in the US is, "So, are you fluent yet?" I find myself asking the same question, but I'm not sure how to reply. Yes it's true that for the past 9 months I've been living in Spain, technically by myself. I converse every single day from 7:30am to 11:30pm in Spanish (ok maybe more like 8:30 because I'm a zombie in the morning). Actually, the only English I ever speak is in English class, my bilingual ethics class, or online, talking to friends or family back home. Most of the music I listen to is now in Spanish, and in my free time, I've started reading a love story called, "El cielo está en cualquier lugar" (The sky is everywhere). So all this, but at the same time, I'm hesitant to throw out the word, fluent.

The thing is, even though I can talk to just about anyone, anywhere, in any situation, I still make a ton of mistakes. My Spanish teacher is patient with me, and grades my tests with an understanding mind, but I still see her nervous pen marks changing gender errors, adding accents, or correcting verb tenses. I understand most of what I hear on the daily news channel if I pay attention, but if I zone out, I completely miss it. After all this time, I still don't get the jokes of the comedy channel that we sometimes watch, although I can follow along with the pictures. My history teacher asks me to read sometimes in class because he says he loves to hear my american accent. I live in a world of Spanish but I still have gaps in my understanding.

So what makes someone fluent? According to google, fluent can be defined as;  Able to speak or write a particular foreign language easily and accurately. But who can measure "easily" and "accurately"? If that means without making any mistakes, then I can name a handfull of Americans I know who wouldn't fall into the category of fluent in English with all the grammar mistakes they make. Also, what is "easily"? Some days, I'm so talkative I feel like I could spark a conversation with just about anyone, but some days, I can't even find a few words to say during lunch because my brain feels like a fluffy cloud of nothingness. 

So you see my dilemma. 

To answer this question as honestly as I can, yes, I can speak in Spanish and yes I understand basically everything (minus the punchline to the joke), and yes, reading and writing aren't hard for me. It could be my personality, or my vague understanding of the word, but I would still hesitate to call myself fluent. 

Maybe I've just learnt that it's an ongoing process. Just like I learn new English words everyday, even when I've spoken the language for about 16 years, I'll continue learning spanish as long as I put the effort in. It's impossible to assume I could grasp the equivalent of 16 years of knowledge in just 10 months, but hey, I'm definitely a lot closer to that goal of "fluent". Or maybe, my criteria is completely wrong and I really am fluent. Sería cojonudo. 

Well, fluent or not, I'm still here, and I'm still learning. Going to make the most of these last three weeks I have left. 

The AFS family

Ya know that place? With those people? That we went to one time? And you did that thing that you do? Yea… Neither do I.

AFS + Spaniards

I had no idea how to start this blog post and whenever my family tells vague stories, they usually start like the one above. So there ya go. They always say the beginning’s the hardest to write and now it’s written.

So this past weekend was our last AFS reunion before the final one in Madrid, before getting on our planes to go home. This reunion was special because it wasn’t only the usual exchange students from Asturias and Castilla-Leon, but also Spanish students who are going abroad with AFS either this summer, or next school year. Talking to them was so incredible. Crazy how fast the roles have switched, and now I’m the experienced one: reflecting on my year and giving advice to those who are about to start their own journey.  It was especially fun to talk to the students who are going to the US. They have so many questions about how it is, the stereotypes, the food, and the weather. I definitely see their fear behind some of their words, but it’s so overpowered by excitement and wanderlust in their eyes. It’s funny because I remember when I was in their position. Still hadn’t received my host family, an amazing summer just around the corner, and sooo naïve about the future. I feel for them and I’m excited for them.

AFS goes indian...

The actual orientation wasn’t that interesting. We did the typical weird AFS activities, even dressed up as Indians at one point. As always, the best things happened in between the sessions.

Surprise 3am pictures

Although the group of “experienced” AFSers spent a good amount of time with the Spaniards, we couldn’t help but wander off on our own a little and find comfort in being with each other. This might seem strange, and you probably won’t understand where I’m coming from if you’ve never been an exchange student, but these 10 other students, they’re my family now. Just 9 months ago, we’d never even heard of each other’s names, at the first orientation we were still learning who was who, but by the midstay orientation, we’d formed a bond that I’m hoping will last forever. We just get each other. We vent to each other about everything. They’re some of the first people I go to when I’m feeling down because they’ve been there before. They’ve seen me at my complete worst in October as I left the orientation in tears, they’ve seen me when I’ve showered in rain boots and ate nonstop in January, and now, they’ve seen me tanning and singing Taylor Swift songs at the top of my lungs. They’ve seen me at 4am and 7:30pm. In a sweatshirt and yogas with no makeup on. Crying, laughing, happy, and depressed. They’ve seen it all. And hey… they still talk to me so I guess that’s a good sign! I can’t begin to describe how lucky I am to have them behind me. I know I can tell them anything and they’ll always support me. They’re more than a community. They’re my family.

The fam

So this weekend was definitely bittersweet. At one point, we received letters that we had written at the first orientation in October. My letter literally left me with my mouth wide open and my heart pounding. It’s incredible how much has changed since then and when I look back at how far I’ve come, I can’t help my tear up a little. Reading my words was so powerful.

Leaving that camp was also bittersweet. Knowing the next time I see those people will be when we are about to board our plane in Madrid. I never would've thought I'd become this close to people I've only seen three times in 9 months, but it's happened. Love you all :)

P.S Please excuse my awkward introduction. I was too lazy to pull something interesting out...

La Ciudad de Amor

If you've never been to Paris, do everything you can to go. I can't even begin to describe how beautiful it is. What I can say is that in just six short days, I fell in love with the timeless city of love.

Just imagine, you're walking down a street of pebbles. Bright sun on your face and the smell of warm crepes in the air. The apartments to your left and right are all the same light beige, intricately detailed columns, doors, and balconies, all only reaching three or four stories as to not block out the beautiful blue sky. If you look up, you can see chic french people sipping tea or coffee on their beautiful iron terraces. Bustling around you is the life of the city, the people. Street performers, lost tourists, and actual natives trying to get to work in time. Overlooking the city, the eiffel tower can be seen from almost every place you go. The beautiful cathedrals, government buildings, and museums are numerous, each one unique. The streets are filled with charming bakeries, classy restaurants, typical touristy stands, and high end fashion brands like Gucci, Prada, and Luis Vuitton. If you get a chance to go up the eiffel tower, or maybe the arc of triomphe, you realize the dense city that surrounds you is so full of history, but yet so alive.

If I could go back, I would walk around without a map, or a watch, and lose myself in those parisian streets.

Coming back was a weird feeling. It marked only two months left here in Spain. Like I always knew would happen, I'm beginning to feel a mix of emotions but I'm not going there yet. I'm just embracing the moments as they come.

There are waaaayy too many pictures to post them all but if you're interested, I'll be posting them on my picture blog so check it out! http://marthainspain2012.tumblr.com

Here are some of the highlights:

boarding the train

Arc of triomphe

After climbing up 200 something stairs to the top of the arc

Notre Dame

Sunset from the Eiffel tower

Dancing in disney

Reunited after 7 months

When the bell rang at 2:30 on wednesday, for most of the students it meant the beginning of spring break, no more studying, and freedom at last, but for me, it meant I was one step closer to seeing my parents. I had the opportunity that most exchange students never have a chance to get; I brought probably the most important part of my old life (my family) into my new life here abroad. Many exchange students live their wholes lives in two different, separate worlds, never intertwining the two. By having my parents come visit me, I made my life one whole journey, instead of two separate chapters.

Having my parents here gave me an insight I'd never had a chance to see before. In a way, I kind of saw my old self in them. They gave up complete control to me to plan each day. When they got on the plane in Philadelphia, the only thing they knew for sure was they were coming to Spain, and they would see me. They arrived in Madrid alone, unable to understand a word of the language that people were blabbering around them. They managed to work their way around with hand gestures, the few words they knew, and those beautiful irish smiles.

That was me just seven months ago. I entered a world completely foreign with no understanding of where I was going, how I was going there, who'd I'd be going with, when I'd be returning ect. I totally gave up control to people I had never met and hoped I'd make it out alive. Sure, I studied spanish for a few years in school and I knew how to say "Hola, que tal?" and I knew basic vocab like "sol" (sun) "montana" (mountain) "leche" (milk) "chocolate" (that one's pretty obvious) ect. but nothing can prepare you for that feeling when, for the first time, you're surrounded by the language so pure, so strong, and you can't pick up a single word. I could relate to the blank expressions that I saw on my parents' faces as someone would stop them in a store, mistaking them for a native, or perhaps when I would start chatting with the bartender. I was there one time. The amazing thing is to see that old part of me in them, and see how far I've come.

I successfully translated the whole back and forth conversation between my parents and my host family, with the help of my host siblings. I even managed to keep a conversation with the waiters at restaurants without struggling. With a few pointers from the receptionist at the hotel, I successfully found my way around the city without getting lost. I was no longer that zoned out foreigner, but instead, a confident, blond, spanish speaker with a slight american accent.

What still feels like a dream to me, is that my parents were in this country with me. The whole thing just seems so surreal. I acted like their experienced tour guide, bringing them from town to town, city to city, giving directions, and never getting lost. I showed them places that at one time, meant nothing to me, but now, are part of my life: my school, my apartment, where I hang out with my friends in the afternoons, and where we go out on saturday nights. This whole world that has slowly become a significant part of my life. I felt so proud to show off the things that they were still strangers to, especially the food. Of course they had to try the traditional "Fabada Asturiana" (bean dish from my region). They also had to eat as much chorizo and spanish tortilla as they could because, as I told them, they're only here once so they might as well.

I could see in their eyes not only their interest in everything new, but also their fascination. They've heard stories and seen pictures of my life here, but until now, they've never had a chance to put those faces, or those places into reality. Everything was new to them, everything a mystery. They only experienced the surface level of the cultural differences that have now become second nature to me.

Being with them has helped me see how much I've changed, and how much I've stayed the same. We still get along just like always, laughing together, making fun of each other, and maybe occasionally, being competitive. One day during lunch, over probably the best pizza I've had in Spain, we began to talk about how each of us has changed. Although not as drastic as my adventure in Spain, my parents have both taken on big changes in their lives this past year that have forced them to stay up working long nights, go outside their comfort zone, and look at things from a different perspective. The point is, we've all changed in some way, big or small, but that hasn't hurt our relationship.

Seeing them was a dream, and leaving them was bittersweet. I know three months is nothing compared to the seven months I've been here. I also know that once those three months are over, I'm not sure when I'll see some of these people, or this beautiful town again. I'm just so thankful to have the parents I have. They've supported me without question and have encouraged me to be the best person I can be. Truely thanks to them, I am where I am today. I love them more than I could ever tell them, but I think they know that already :)

The weekend I spent with them will remain one of my favorite weekends here in Spain. I can't wait to hug them again.

Boring post

The truth is, there's no point in this post. I had no intent to write a blog post until much later because I had nothing new to share, but my dad actually gave me the idea to write this boring blog post. "It might be reassuring to someone reading it in those first difficult weeks - as bad as your start was, there is hope, it does get boring!" He told me. So this post is brought to you thanks to him.

The fact that this life here in Spain has become something normal for me was inevitable since the beginning, but I could've never imagined calling it normal. How can living in Spain ever be normal!? I thought. Well, it doesn't hit you all at once. It sneaks up on you. Day to day you don't get knocked off your feet so much, you're not struggling with the language, and you start really knowing the people, and the places around you. You start to form a schedule. You won't feel like a deer in the headlights when someone addresses you directly, you how to formally talk to elders, and you start to learn how to crack a joke. You understand almost everything in class, which allows you to completely ignore the teacher while you day dream. You cram the night before for big tests, you always talk about how all you want to do is sleep, and the people in the local candy store know your name. Basically, you start to live in your surroundings and make your own life here.

So as this post doesn't really have a point, I could go rambling on about things that don't really matter for days. What I'm trying to say behind all of this is that a month has gone by since anything really "big" happened and I'm okay with that. Next week, I'll be turning 16, and less than two weeks later, I'll be walking around Navia with my mom and dad. Then, three weeks later, I'll be in Paris and then I'll be on the final stretch of my time here in Spain. Sometimes, a break is good. It's like the calm before the storm of events that will lead up to my final weeks here in Spain.

So to people back home; nothing new over here in Spain. Just chilling.

And to future AFS students; no matter how crazy it seems, you'll end up calling this foreign country home.

That's all for now!