Disconnected

I rode a horse for the first time on Saturday and I took a total of three photos. (Did I mention it was on a beach?) I didn’t take that many photos partly because I was afraid of dropping my phone and directing my horse where I didn’t want it to go, but mostly, it was because I didn’t feel it necessary to message anyone or send anyone a photo. Everyone I would want to message was with me or I knew wouldn’t get the message until much later, so, I just save the few photos I took and kept on riding.

I never thought of myself as technology addicted or even remotely close to it. I had gone on so many trips where a cell phone wasn’t permitted and I had done fine. Once I got here, though, I discovered just how connected I am. Granted, the first few weeks here were rough and did require communicating with people back home. But, even though I was more comfortable weeks later, my level of communication stayed the same. I soon discovered how little I was experiencing when my phone was in my hand at all times. I was constantly check my BlackBerry for messages from home, from friends here in Spain, for anything.

I told myself when I was on the plane here that I would come back with so many stories. The first few weeks in, though, I felt like I had absolutely none. I was always jealous of those people who could tell story after story and never run out. I have discovered that it isn’t because they live such an extravagant, crazy life (well, maybe just a little); it is because they live in the moment and no one, except for the people who were present, knows what comes next. No one saw the live-feed of what was happening on Facebook, no one got text message after text message of what was being said and thought. The story is new, except for the storyteller. That’s why it’s so exciting - because everyone anticipates the next part and the storyteller is often telling it for the first time.

Maybe it took adjusting to Spanish time, where no time is set in stone and plans are made in the moment, or maybe it was forcing myself to put my phone away and not allowing myself to check it every few minutes, but let me tell you, I have so many stories to tell now that I’ve disconnected  a bit.

Peace!

-Nicole

Photo #1

Photo #2 (turns out they were pretty much the same)

Photo #3: My horse Andalus

Feeling at Home

As I was sitting on my computer this afternoon, I had a very odd thought cross my mind: I'm glad I'm home. I stayed out pretty late last night, as is normal in Spain, and so it was nice to be in my room, relaxing. But what was odd about it is that I referred to this small apartment I once hated be in as my home.

When got to Sevilla, I refused to call this small apartment "home". I only referred to it as "the apartment" or "Ana's place" (Ana is my host mom). I was so miserable and wishing I could go home that I did not want to adjust to the differences of my living situations. I knew I could adjust; I just didn't want to. Adjusting meant I was here for a while and it meant that I had to make a life for myself here.

Let's just say I've come a long way. I am now thoroughly enjoying my time in Spain. I've stopped counting the days I've been in Spain. I finally put up my pictures I brought with on my bulletin board (the photos don't make me sad anymore). I have a bus pass and I know the system pretty well. I have my favorite places to shop and my favorite places to hang out. I've discovered that Spanish coffee makes my heart feel like it's about to explode and that I should probably stick to tea. Heck, I even made friends.

So I'm home. I have fallen in love with Spain and what it has to offer. Looking at my calendar, I'm starting to feel like there isn't enough time here. So, I guess I should starting living it large, right?

Peace!

-Nicole

Here are some photos from the past few weeks.

Roaming around Aracena

In Granada

Cathedral in Sevilla

Cathedral in Córdoba

Time Won't Go to Waste

My first week here in Spain was anything but perfect. Yes, I enjoyed my first few days of class, but nothing else felt right. I had the usual complaints: my feet hurt from all the walking, I knew nobody in the program, the food was new. Those things I knew I could soon get over. But, as some know, I have social anxiety. For the past few years, I have been in therapy and have had it well controlled. However, when I got to Spain, any little thing that didn't fit my usual pattern made me quite uncomfortable and beyond anxious. Normally, I know what to do - talk to someone I trust, make an appointment with my psychologist, jump into activities. But here, I had no idea what to do. I couldn't talk to anyone I trusted, because there was no one. I could call someone back home, but phone calls are expensive and I didn't have internet at my host home to Skype anyone. I also couldn't make an appointment because, well, I'm in Spain. And there were no activities to speak of and no one I could do things with.

I knew the first week would be rough - it always is, no matter where you are. The same thing happened to me last summer when I started to work at camp. This 'being uncomfortable' thing was not new. But what really got me was my anxiety. I eventually called my mom and talked with people who work at the Center. After a few days of planning and a few more days of adjusting, things are better.

Discomfort is easy to handle by oneself, which is why I think trips are easy to do. A study abroad, however, goes beyond discomfort. Granted, I have anxiety, but I still believe everyone has that one thing that makes it harder.

I have discovered something new: what was a great plan for one thing may be terrible for another. I had come in with the plan of jumping into things, which is what I usually do, but found it to be a terrible idea. My friend Malyn gave me some of the best advice: "Start small. It's okay not to be okay sometimes. Do whatever feels good to you - don't feel pressure to 'make the most of it'... [time] won't go to waste."

So although my first week was terrible, it wasn't wasted time. Yes, I still have to say to myself, "You made it 10 days!" but those are 10 days I proved to myself that I can do this. 10 days I stuck to my adventure. And I will only have more.

Peace, friends.

-Nicole

Hola from Spain!

¡Hola! I have safely made it to Sevilla, Spain and have pretty much settled in. I flew into Sevilla around 4:30 yesterday and then waited around for my roommate Emily to arrive. Although I am thankful my luggage did not get lost, Emily was not so fortunate. She, however, has taken it all in stride. Hopefully her luggage will arrive tonight sometime, like the airport said.

My biggest worry about coming to Spain was, naturally, speaking the language. And so far, the worry is justified. Thankfully, I have been saved by Emily, who is fairly fluent and not afraid to talk. I, however, have always found it difficult to speak, even in English. But, after an evening with Ana, my host mother, and orientation today, I have discovered two things. One: I can understand pretty much everything and two: my Spanish voice does not feel like my own.

When I speak English, it is comfortable and when words get jumbled up in my mouth, it is easy for me to untangle them. In Spanish, though, I do not recognize my voice. It feels like it has been poorly recorded and is playing back through a speaker that isn't connected quite right. And I have always believed it would be like this.

Today, during the afternoon siesta, Emily and I took a quick walk around our neighborhood (which is stunning; see below for some pictures), and our conversation ended up being half in English and half in Spanish. She commented toward the end of our walk that I was talking more and seem to be more comfortable. I realized that I was, in fact, comfortable begun to recognize my Spanish voice. I have begun to realize that I can be myself in both languages and I can have a confident voice.

Well that's all I have for now. Peace, my friends. Here are some photos from around the neighborhood.

-Nicole

An old church next to a modern building.

The front of the apartment building I stay in.

Some of the tile in the Center.

Near the apartment, about a block or so. In the background, you can see the soccer stadium. Crazy close.

My Fortune Cookie Is Speaking To Me

I ordered Chinese last night. Doesn’t seem to be a too significant event, but I swear my fortune cookie was speaking to me: “Sometimes travel to new places leads to great transformation.” Recently, I have started to question my decision to leave the States for four months to study in a different country and speak a language I don’t fully know. I am scared out my mind sometimes. So when a fortune cookie starts to make sense, maybe I should think things through more.

I recently flew to Oklahoma for Thanksgiving and I realized that the next time I would be going through the Minneapolis airport, I would be boarding a plane for a semester in Spain. I teared up, knowing I would be saying goodbye to my family and friends and I wouldn’t be able to hug them for about four months; I would only be able to see them across a computer screen. I haven’t spoken Spanish in a few months and I have never had to go more than a few hours only speaking Spanish. What am I, crazy? But, as my plane took off, I also realized that, yes, once I walked through the gate at the airport, I will be leaving those I love and my comfortable life, but I also will be heading off to Spain to learn language and culture, and gain a global perspective. I will be learning to love a new life, a new country, and new friends. I will learn so much more about myself than I could ever imagine possible.

I have taken many transformational trips in my life, ranging from two day trips to four week trips. But all of those trips were taken when I was in middle school and high school. Being a near-adult, maybe it is time for me to take another adventure. Going to college was the last adventure I took and so far it has been good, but I am getting a bit too comfortable. I am getting antsy and I need to stretch my legs. Why not stretch them across to another continent, another country?

So Fortune Cookie, although you are not always right, this time I think you are. Yes, I may be scared out of my mind, but transformation is not always bad. In fact, I have found it to be, well, great fortune.

Peace!

-Nicole

I'm Going to Spain!

Did you know I'm studying abroad starting in January? I bet not. For five months, I will be in Seville, Spain, studying culture and the language. It's been hard for me to be excited about this idea and for the longest time, I couldn't figure out why.

I was talking with Megan the other night and feeling sorry for myself. I told her I didn't want to go to Spain anymore, how I didn't want to spend five months on the greatest adventure I would have yet. No one seemed to care I was going away for five months and I felt like they were inconsiderate of my situation - lots of amazing speakers and lots of events were happening during that period and I am going to miss out on it all. I felt like people were just rubbing it in that they were going to experience it all and I was not. Megan, after consoling me for a bit, said that I rarely talk about myself in conversation anymore and rarely anyone knows I'm going to be gone, so how can they be excited for me?

It was a revelation. I don't know if I have tried to be selfless to the point no one knows who I am or what, but Megan was right. How can people be excited for me if no one knows? And how I can be excited for other people if I'm not excited for my own experience? If I'm not excited for my own, I am only jealous of others.

It's time for me to get excited about my five month adventure and time for others to know about it.

Cathedral in Seville

Peace!

-Nicole

Not What I Wanted, But What I Needed

I've been going to camp since I was in third grade. It was a dream of mine to work as a camp counselor and be the absolute best at it. My plan was to graduate high school, have my first year of college, and then start working at my camp for many years to come. Then came time for such things to happen and it simply didn't for one reason or another. This summer came rolling around and since I didn't seem to have anything else in mind, I decided to return to my younger self's plan and work at camp.

I started staff training in May and I hated my decision pretty quickly. I was cold, I was wet, and I was forced to interact with people I typically would never interact with normally. I worked nearly every hour of every day with less than minimum wage. I never knew the schedule for the next day, let alone the next week. I was not a happy camper (or counselor, I should say).

I had expected things to go my way and I had expected things to go along with my plan I had created so long ago. What I now realize was that my plan was created when I was in 5th grade or so, when I never would expect life to change so much. After two years of attending a liberal arts college, my life plans and my goals had dramatically changed even from when I was a senior in high school. My plan for working at camp was trying to fit my old self, instead of my new.

Although my wants of the summer never fully seemed to be met, my summer ended up being exactly what I needed. Here are a few examples.

• My uncle Oliver, who passed away in February, lived in the same area as the camp. Everywhere I looked around camp, I saw Oliver. He built nearly every building on camp and I felt him near throughout the summer.
• Oliver was also to be my "adoptive family" during the summer, but I was "adopted" by Joileen and Roger, dear friends of my late grandma Sis. I was able to re-connect to the side of my family I rarely talk to.
• Every summer, the staff puts on a short musical relating to the summer's theme. It is written and performed by the staff and they perform it every week for the campers and their families. I was graciously allowed to have the lead (plus I got a "Heavenly Nicole" shirt out of it).
• I spent a week or so with my sister and my niece and nephew. And got paid for it.
• I spent nearly every weekend with Angie, my sister's mom. She lived only 10 minutes away from camp and it became my weekend home where I got a hot shower and a house I could rule for a few days.

The list could be much more extensive if I were to continue. My summer, the one I hated with all my being in the beginning, ended up being exactly what I needed. I needed closure with Oliver's passing and camp allowed it to happen. I needed to be able to become closer to Ashly, my sister, and Angie and camp allowed that to happen as well. I needed to be able to fulfill my last "life goal" and camp was it. It truly allowed everything that needed to happen in my life to happen. I didn't particularly grow in who I was, but it helped me realize who I was in that particular moment, since so much change had occurred in the years before.

Change is good, but sometimes being able to reflect on who you are and what makes you who you are is a blessing as well. Sometimes, life doesn't give you what you want, but exactly what you need.

Peace.

-Nicole

Change, People, and Self

Welcome back to Dorm Room 718! It is now junior year and goodness, have the changes been great. I am no longer a theatre major and am instead a psychology major. I have added two more minors besides Spanish (religion and women's studies). Speaking of that Spanish minor, I will be in Spain this coming Spring for a study away program. I've had two different summer jobs, both working with children. I now live in an apartment with my freshman floor-mate Melissa. My niece and nephew are no longer babies, but instead toddlers. I hold two jobs and am involved in multiple on-campus clubs. Change is good, but sometimes it looks a bit different than expected.

I've always thought of myself as innocent and positive. Sometimes it had a bad connotation and sometimes it was a fabulous descriptor. No matter what meaning it held, I still thought of myself as innocent. Someone close to my heart told me last night that recently, they had failed to see that innocence and that I've become almost... cynical. They have missed the part of me that saw the best in people and if I did see something no so favorable, I didn't focus on it or bring it up. The more I thought about their words, the more it seemed to ring true. Yes, I have started to fail to see the good in people and I immediately believe the bad. The cause and root of this, though, I cannot seem to figure out.

My last year has been an odd one. I have said before I strive to be the one who is always growing in who she is. It seems I have not been able to say that in the last year. Important relationships have changed and become strained and my summer job as a camp counselor has challenged how I interact with people and life situations. I have discovered my limitations and shortcomings instead of my strengths. This isn't to say finding out such limitations and shortcomings is a terrible thing, but it is a bit of a downer after a long period of time.

Maybe that's it. Maybe I have failed to see the good in myself, which causes me to skip over the good in others. I have always said I'm a people-person and I thrive off of human interaction. Rather than thrive, I seem to diminish in who I am. I am still not sure what will remedy this undesirable change and maybe all I need is time, but it can't but help my situation if I actively search out a solution.

Until next,

peace.

-Nicole

Perfect

"Aim at perfection in everything, though in most things it is unattainable. However, they who aim at it, and persevere, will come much nearer to it than those whose laziness and despondency make them give it up at unattainable." -Lord Chesterfield

Yesterday, Nicole and I were talking about identity formation: how in adolescence you have to figure yourself out and work through the conflicts and events holding you back before you can move forward and focus on other parts of your life experience. In a stroke of luck, this conversation coincided with an episode of Grey's Anatomy I just watched (Grey's Anatomy is my new thing, don't judge.) The idea is there are a lot of things in life that you have to handle in sequential order. It's all a process.

I find the concept of perfection to be so strange. It doesn't exist, and I'm not even sure we could conceptualize something that is truly perfect. I mean, there's a reason why the Islamic traditions maintains that  Allah is the sole perfect being. I dislike the word "perfect." I never want it to be used to describe me by anyone I know, not by my family members, not by my friends, not by someone I'm dating, not even by a stranger on a street. I don't want to hear that I'm perfect. I want to hear that I am flawed, but that I am using my flaws to every advantage I can, that I'm learning and growing because of them. I'm never going to wake up, look in the mirror, and tell myself I'm perfect. However, I may tell myself that I've made some pretty great progress, that I can handle a situation better today than I was able to the day before.

I don't necessarily think conceptualizing perfection as the goal is helpful. To have a perfect state be the end stop everyone's fighting for removes emphasis from the sheer process of improving, and I think everyone should be constantly striving for improvement in all that they do. That doesn't mandate being discontent in everything you've done, it's actually being content with the level of effort you've put in. It's finding contentment in accepting where you're at and knowing you've got work to do, but that you're actually doing the work. If everyone looked around and thought, "Well, everything's perfect, nothing left to do but go home," we wouldn't have innovation! I don't think people should see themselves in a similar way.

At the end of the day, our value lies not in that we can attain perfection, (we can't) but that we can identify opportunities for change and improvement, and that's a pretty cool thing.

Peace and love,

-Megan

Cooking and Baking

I miss my kitchen and being able to bake and cook as much as I want and whenever I want to. When I got home on Monday after spending a few days with my sister Ashly, I asked my mom if I could cook this week. Being as busy as she is, she happily said yes. I spent around 50 dollars on a ton of veggies, cheese, and pasta. Tuesday night I made an Asian noodle salad and tomorrow I'm making a spinach and cheese lasagna. Plus, I just made homemade brownies with Hersey frosting. Tomorrow, after making the lasagna, I'm hoping to bake some cookies for the play I'm in, since our characters eat through the whole show. I am thrilled to be able to have a stocked kitchen and time to do it. Plus, I get to use my new apron I got for Christmas.

Today while prepping the lasagna, I realized just how different cooking and baking are. I remember once when I was cooking with my mom as a young girl, I was haphazardly measuring out flour for cookies. My mom quickly stopped me and said I had to be sure I was perfectly measuring out what was stated in the recipe, otherwise the cookies wouldn't turn out right. Cooking, on the other hand, is a sort of "anything goes" sort of food preparation. Too much of one spice? Add another to balance it out! Too little broth? Add more water and spices! Most of the time, I would rather bake than cook. Baking, I know if I follow the directions, the outcome will be fabulous. Cooking, on the other hand, is some what of a gamble.

My life is like cooking right now. I know the base of what the end-product will be, but I don't know what flavors to add and what ones will work together and balance out. It's a great cacophony of flavors, but it feels like the pan is getting too hot and I don't know how to slow it down. I'd much rather be baking - I know the exact amount of everything and there is a bit of room to add something else, like vanilla or peanut butter. But vanilla and peanut butter aren't exciting flavors. Sure, they do add sweetness, but not a kick of flavor like a jalapeño would have.

Maybe instead of viewing my life as chaotic and frustrating, I should see it as exciting. My cookies are already in the oven baking - maybe it's time to create some exciting new flavors and try a few new things in my life and see what happens. Who knows? Maybe it's something people would want to try themselves.

Peace!

-Nicole