Springtime and other things

People often say to me that sometimes it sounds like I really love Spain and sometimes I really hate it. Usually I only hate it between the hours of 2-5pm. But then the good always outweighs the bad, such as one would hope for. If I didn't enjoy my time here, I wouldn't have stayed for second year. Last Friday I went to see Orphaned Land and was completely shocked by the tiny number of people there. For such a big band to have show with only about 100 people was incredible. Great for me though, it felt more intimate. Like an acoustic performance, only not. Picked myself up an awesome little tank from the Mabool album as well which I was later asked to model on another day for a metalhead friend of mine. Those Spaniards, they certainly can be blunt.

I've once again been reminded of the small world I seem to live in. One of my students informed me last week that she was looking at photos from one of her school friend's trips to summer camp the previous summer. Low and behold, I appeared in one of the photos. Her friend had gone to the same summer camp I had taught at. Six degrees of separation - you have arrived.

And on that subject, Madrid is a city of over 1 million people, so how is it that I have managed to run into all of my American or British friends on the metro at least once, and have never run into a single one of my Spanish friends?

Lastly, I finally enrolled in some Spanish classes and hopefully will improve my grammar enough so that I can carry a decent conversation with the Spaniards. Also trying to go to Hellfest in France and going with a bunch of Spaniards who are going to laugh at me if I know 0 Spanish = bad.

Updates, Updates

Its nearly impossible to remember to update this blog. Or to really fill it with all the things that have happened since I arrived in Spain... there's just too many things to remember and as a sad fact, most of them get forgotten.

Like today for instance. I got the most random call from someone I had met last October and hadn't seen since. It took a good 5 minutes of trying to get me to remember him before I finally did. His name, which is a very typical name in Spain was still saved in my phone yet I had no idea who he was and when I would go through my phone book I believed it to be a completely different person with the same name...

I went to Portugal on my own for 10 days during Semana Santa and was surprised by the large quantity of Spaniards there. It seemed like all of Madrid emptied into Portugal and I was the only American in my hostel in Lisbon. Beautiful city, lots to do but too much rain.

Parties...Before going to Portugal I went the previous weekend to Valencia for the Las Fallas festival. Complete insanity. Thousands upon thousands of people from everywhere going absolutely crazy with fireworks and drinking and drunken debauchery all week, until Friday, culminating with the burning of huge statue effigies every year around this time. I went with two other Americans and a half Croatian/half Canadian girl who would not shut up the entire time about wanting to find herself a boyfriend. Thankfully, the following night we went on a Pub Crawl where she latched herself onto a German guy for the remainder of our time in Valencia. Pub Crawls are fun and a good way to meet a lot of people in a short amount of time but be aware that in all likelihood someone is going to end up as "the responsible one" by the end of the night. The first two bars were quite good and should anyone who reads this go to Valencia, make sure to try the "Agua de Valencia" - Trust me, its not actually water. But as the night progressed and the bars got steadily more club like and too crowded to move, I got a bit bored but was momentarily happy to receive a text from a rather new Spanish friend of mine who was attending an excellent concert I was missing to be in Valencia informing me he was having a blast with my other Spanish friends...so much so that I would come to discover they were out all night and wandered drunkenly through the big Rastro Flea Market in Madrid the next morning where he somehow lost his phone.

First time time I also slept in a car, which was a novel experience that I would never like to repeat. Also on the way there I was informed by one of my cohorts, "oh, by the way guys, I snore." What should have been said was, "oh, by the way guys, I snore like a lumberjack with a chainsaw." But I digress. It was still a worthwhile experience in which I had a lot of fun. Drinking the most poorly made mixed drinks on a park bench with about 100 other Spaniards of varying ages, lots of coffee in the morning and beer from about 1 in the afternoon onwards, mixed with a whole lot of walking around and intermittent bouts of rain made it a tale to tell for the future.

Post Portgual me has seen very little rest. Upon my return, meeting up with a Spanish/Chinese girl I'd met at an intercambio a few weeks prior for a house party and a very strong rum and coke. I could only stay for an hour because I'd made arrangements to meet up with New Spanish Friend and The Metalheads down in the south of Madrid. Arrived there a little drunk and spent the evening in excellent conversation until about 6 in the morning where we then went to a metal club known throughout Madrid as the defacto place to go when all other bars have closed. But then by about 7 they started to kick people out. We proceeded then to quest for food and drink more beer find kababs and later a open cafe for the morning. By 9 am I had lost all energy and was falling asleep at the table. Time to go. Got home around 10 am and proceeded to crash till around 2 or 3 in the afternoon.

The following weeks were near the same, teaching new classes, new privates and social life that seems to be gaining momentum only in the few months before I'm supposed to leave. Typical isn't it? A friend concert was last weekend, and finally getting to see his band play in Madrid before I left was nice. Also met two cool guys from Boston in the headlining band Despised Icon who proceeded to add me to facebook. Cool.

What I'm going to try and do from hear on out is a least try for two entries per week with thoughts on classes, spanish people, work environments, and social things going on and general thoughts and ideas.

I want to get into the habit of writing more as I'm also trying to work on a novel but only to delete what I write after I'm with a page cause I'm positive it's complete crap. Anyway, I will post some things relevant to that as well.

The Economic "Crisis" In Spain

Greetings all,

Been a long time since I've posted. This is the second year of my teaching in Spain. Let me fill you in a bit. With the "great collapse" of the economy last September, many people have noticed that people moved into a sort of semi panicked state. Spain was no different. As soon as people started to feel their money and banking assets were threated they quickly cut back. I noticed this immediately in a particular bank that I taught in. This bank was a merger of two banks, one Dutch and one British. As the months working in this company went on, I began noticing the staff get smaller and smaller, until entire offices were completely devoid of people. There are still classes there with whats left of that company but I'm no longer teaching there.

In addition, dozens of other companies have cut any and all extras for their employees in preparation for this economic pitfall. This includes bonuses, overtime, limited vacation and yes, English class. For the first time ever, there are more English teachers in Spain than there are classes offered.

The construction companies in Spain have also taken a huge turn for the worse, with companies closing left and right, having lost all their contracts. Madrid is a consistently expanding city with the constant immigration and swelling population. Suburbs have been expanding at an exponential rate up until this past year.

Its difficult for so many of the Spaniards I've met who are losing their jobs and have to work 2 or 3 jobs to survive. Likewise its difficult for us teachers who have to survive now on minimal hours when we come here. Some teachers can barely fill 15 hours a week.

And yet...it doesn't stop anyone from shopping...shopping and shopping some more. Prices have never been higer. Taxis are more, food is more and yet...no one is arguing about it. I can't say its any different than the states.

But its not all bad news. I did find a great new company to work for that is growing quickly.

http://www.kleinsoncollins.com/

They have a number of new techniques they offer in teaching and seem to be one of the few companies growing right now.

The Couchsurfing Experience

I know many people by now have probably heard something about couchsurfing by now. If you haven't, then I will give you a quick run down:

Couchsurfing.com is a website whereby people can sign up, fill out a profile with their information and location that allows other people who might be traveling in that area to have a place to stay for a night or two (or more), meet up for drinks, coffee, a tour of the city or whatever else might be on the agenda. This fundamentally works in two ways. You open your couch to someone, then when you are traveling somewhere, you may find others who would be willing to open their couch to you.

I have heard many fantastic things about this site. So far I've had the pleasure of hosting 2 couch surfers, one couple from Italy, and one guy from Texas. Both experiences were quite enjoyable, and held some great moments for me when I got to meet and talk to some people from other parts of the world. I will be couchsurfing my first time when I travel to Italy in August. Can't wait. The only thing really that can be an issue is the amound of emails you send and recieve each time you want to go somewhere. To find one couch surfer in Milan, I emailed close to 30 people. Most of them said no, one person said yes, a few maybes, and a few unsures based on time.

So,

Rule #1: If you're planning to couch surf, email as many people as you can!

Rule #2: Avoid creepy guys that send you emails entitled "You, me and (insert city name here)"

Rule #3: Meet locals

Rule #4: Have fun!

Two Brothers, An Irishman and A Bar

I know, I know. It sounds like the opening to bad joke, right? But I swear, only good jokes were told. Some of them even a little perverse and dumb.

When you move to a new place, sometimes it can be difficult to meet people and make new friends, especially if there is a language barrier. And if it were not for the people I will be mentioning later in this post, life in Madrid would be much duller (and perhaps a lot sadder). As I mentioned in my earlier post about los personas en mi TEFL, sometimes the people you meet aren't always the people you want to be around. And so, when a new opportunity presented itself to meet people from a different side of Madrid, I jumped on it.

I don't know if he is aware of it but a friend of mine I have known for a while through the internet (courtesy of metal-r.us) introduced me to some of the most interesting people I have met in Spain so far. He is not a native Spaniard but an Irishman, who comes to Spain on a bi-annual basis (more or less) with his long time girlfriend (who is Spainsh). It was two weeks after I arrived in Madrid that they came to visit. I had been in my TEFL all week long and having only 1 free weekend, I spent it unpacking and walking down Castellana Street with my flatmate at the time. He and is friends were the nicest and friendliest people I had met so far. They showed me around a bit of the Moncloa and Arguellas areas. Both fantastic night life spots and great for students.

Over the following Friday and Saturday we walked through a large festival in Madrid (the largest one in Madrid, held every August in the La Latina area). Anyone who hadn't left Madrid or its surrounding neighborhoods yet for vacation was at this festival.

To describe this type of event in only a few words can't possibly do it any justice, but I will do my best. Imagine, thousands of people dispersed over a space less than a mile in diameter, people falling over drunk in the streets, loud screams and yells, the swealtering heat of Madrid in August, people with bags and bags of beer, coke, juice and alcohol, the mixed sounds of loud music from different sources combined with the sounds of carnival games. Imagine, several stages with bands performing everything from pop to dance to Spanish cultural music. The smells of mediteranian spices, olive oil, fried potatoes, calimari and sausages, tortilla and egg and pepper. Hundreds of people surrounding the vedors selling every kind of food, people sitting anywhere there is free space and drinking, drinking, drinking till they reeked of the alcohol they finished. Now imagine this lasting 3-4 days.

After a few hours at the festival, we made our way to a suburb in the south of Madrid called Vallecas known in the past for its heavy metal bars and clubs. We went to one that my friend knew well and had been to before. He was also good friends with the owner of the place and his brother. An extreme metal bar with two crazy Spaniards operating the place.Finally, a place to go talk metal, drink and meet other like-minded individuals. Though the language issue was a problem for the older of the two, most of the time we managed to persevere.

Over the course of the next several months, I've become well acquainted with these two brothers, the others that occasionally work there, and the consistant regulars that make apperances. I've found comfort in this place where the music is loud, everyone wears black, bullet belts are common and discussions of death, morbidity, music, philosophy and religion co-exist where it would normally scare away the less metal friendly individual. The best thing...even though language barriers are an issue, the Spanish love to talk usually, and even when they can't express themselves, it doesn't make them stop talking.

I found a solid metal base in Madrid that I am quite thankful for. People I can see regularly at concerts, discuss the varying sub-genres of metal and talk technicalities with. Sometimes I wonder if I seem a burden because of my lack of Spanish but the people are so open, welcoming and friendly, it's hard to think that for long.

In terms of the people I've met over the course of my time here, I've found this select group to be the most honest, the most interesting and the most fun to be around. Many times people might look at a group of indivudals like these and see only long messy hair, strange clothes, all black, leather and spikes and make judgements on who they are as people. All I see are friends.

What we learn from TEFL and Sangria

My EBC TEFL Class

What is a TEFL, might you be asking?

Well, TEFL stands for Teaching English as a Foreign Language. It is generally a month long, intensive course one can take in almost any country where English is not the native language and there is a need for teachers. According to people I've spoken with, it is quite popular around Europe (Eastern Europe in particular) and Asia. If you really want to go to Western Europe, don't expect huge markets in any major city (aside from Madrid). You should concentrate instead, on smaller cities or villages/towns. As I hear from my Frenchies - If you really want to see France, it isn't in Paris.

Doing a TEFL is an interesting experience. You are in a foreign country where, in all probability, you don't know the native language beyond a few words. You are probably away from most, if not all your family and friends. Although, if you are lucky, your boyfriend/girlfriend came with you. And if you are REALLY lucky, you know someone who did this before you in the same country and you decided to try it too. But for the rest of us who don't have boyfriends or girlfriends or they can't afford to travel and who don't have any pre-existing friendships here, don't expect everything to be easy from the get go.

The classes can vary in size, depending on the time of year and interest in that location. I had 10 other people in mine, when I came for the August 2008 course, all from varying backgrounds. 8 girls and two guys. One of the guys being Australian and the other British. Of the women, 1 was a native from Spain, 1 from Australia and the others from different parts of the U.S. including California, Georgia, Texas, Michigan, Arizona, Tennessee and me, from New York.

As far as bonding goes, most people in these TEFL courses do tend to bond with each other, form small social groups or 1-2 small cliques depending on the number of people involved. Its to be expected this would happen when everyone is in the same situation (more or less) and away from home. This has its positives and negatives. If you find yourself, for example, with little in common with your particular group, you may find yourself somewhat removed from the overall festivities between your classmates. Generally, there are a few people (1-3) who tend to make themselves the organizers for all event related activities for the group. This will be how the social clinging begins. A few events will be organized and whoever shows up tends to become part of the group. Those who don't...well, they don't. Now I felt a bit sad I couldn't partake in most of my classmates activities because, well, I was broke. I had nothing except enough to pay rent and buy a few meager groceries. I avoided even riding the metro at the time because I didn't want to spend the few Euros on that. The most I did during months of August and September was going to someone's flat or to the park. Seeing museums when they were open free to the public and walking around. So, while my classmates were off to other parts of Spain together, or to a water park, or to clubs and bars and afternoons dedicated to Bikram Yoga (if you read any resentment in my words, its ok, it was there and yes I was a little jealous, but you would be too if you were me), I stayed and wandered around Madrid. So, they became closer as a unit and I drifted farther apart. It didn't bother me so much because I am quite used to being on my own and not traveling around with other people.

Was it lonely? Yes. Was I home sick? Yes. Was I tired of being broke? Yes. But unforeseen circumstances led to my lack of funds and there wasn't anything I could do about it. Did I get over it? Yes. And those of you who might wonder, "what if that’s me?" that gets ostracized for not participating, don't fret. The people you meet during your TEFL time are not the be all end all. Often times they are the more ....how can I say this...snobbish? of the people you will meet in Spain or wherever you go. Its possible I'm generalizing. I can only speak of course for the people in my own TEFL class.

As for the TEFL itself, you do learn a lot. Don't let the price of it scare you off. You learn a great deal about using the English language, about grammar, about teaching formats, designing lessons, how to deal with problem students, motivation, using different tools, activities of all kinds and how to not be afraid to stand and talk in front of a bunch of people. I've heard that the number one fear in people is Public Speaking, followed in second by dying. I don't fear either. Do I particularly like either? No, but they do not scare me. Personally, my biggest fear is public embarrassment. So in the end, you will learn quite a lot over the month you are in the course. And they will help you in your job hunting. Although, you may want to look around on your own too. While they do send your CV out, with the economy as it is, you need to do your own grunt work as well.

Street. Where to our wonder, we were surprised with the most wonderful array of tapas and Sangria. Those of you who have yet to taste the gloriousness that is Spanish Tapas are really missing out. Tapas can be made from a variety of things, from tuna to jamon, sardines to potatoes, chicken, to olives to chorizo and so on. Add on about 10 pitchers of Sangria and you have yourself a Spanish party. And of course, adding alcohol to any situation puts everyone's personality right out into the open.

So that’s it, TEFL in a nutshell. Hope you enjoy. Stay tuned for my next article where I explain how music crosses all language barriers.

Traveler In Time

The following takes place between July 31st and August 1st, 2008, on the day I move to Europe.

Oh the joys of flight travel.

The packing of the bags. The packing of the bags carefully so everything actually fits. The getting it to the airport. The waiting to check in, the ticket check. Then,(this is my favorite part) the weighing of the baggage. The finding out its overweight. The extra fees for having to pay for the baggage. The removal of items because even with the fees for overweight luggage it still can't exceed a certain amount. The arguing with the ticket agent. The running back and fourth to pay for the overweight luggage. The not having money to pay for the overweight luggage. The overcharging for the overweight luggage. The joy of almost missing my flight due to incompetence by the said ticket agent.

Then the actual plane ride. My single serving friend for this flight will be an 50+ Spanish gentlemen with no English skills. The children around me and no TV. Joys of coach.

The Arrival:
I pre-arranged a taxi service so I wouldn't get slaughtered with the meter fare. It took me to the area of Moncloa where the agency I used to find my apartment was located. Left with my luggage to some how get into this building. Two bags weighing in at 160 kilos combined, plus the carry on, plus the laptop, plus my purse.

The Nightmare continues:

The agency is less than friendly. They charge me extra because their bank took a comission off my deposit. Well guess what fellas, the bank charged me a $40 fee too. And now you want me to pay more? Not off to a good start. They then wanted me to pay the entire month right then, which I wasn't ready for, nor did I know about. At home, the rent is always paid the end of the month. Didn't have enough. I was able to bargin with them, pay half then and the rest at the end of month. So for the moment at least, the day wouldn't end with me having to sleep on the streets of Madrid. Yay! I was told I have two flatmates. They gave me the keys and sent me off even though I had no idea where the apartment was. They called a taxi for me which I had to pay for. Again. This took me up to the Santiago Bernabeu area, near the big football stadium.

I was at least pleasantly happy with the building. Well kept, elevator (although minute in size), which was able to fit 1 piece of luggage inside + me. Better than nothing right? No elevator at home makes me grateful for this small indulgence. Then, next phase of fun began as there were 2 doors on my floor. The guessing game began. Which door is mine? One way to find out right? Ring both bells. Well, an old lady on the right opened that door so I guess left it was! Mrs. Old Spanish Lady then continued to talk with me for the next 15 minutes in Spanish as I apologized and attempted to open the door. Which I could not open.

Well, as the wave of offensive language in my head steadily progressed toward the two men in the apartment agency for giving me the wrong keys and Mrs. Old Spanish Lady babbling in Spanish I nearly had a nervous breakdown. Couldn't get into the apartment, couldn't leave my luggage in the hall, didn't know where the metro was if I needed to go back to the agency, no money and no one who knew English. Really about ready to burst any second. Oh yeah, and since only Old Spanish Lady answered her door, that meant no one at my place was home. Huzzah! So spending 15 minutes playing with the door, hearing it click again and again I was befuddled - it seemed like the key unlocked something, yet why was the door not opening? Finally after manuvering some magically correct move, it opened.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! A moment of absolute happiness after a terrible night/day - what with the time difference...pff, who knew? It was 11a.m. here but still being on New York time, it was 5 a.m. and I still hadn't slept yet.

Enter the apartment:

Ok. Nice. Clean. Nothing out of order. Bright. Big. Two bathrooms. Two big bathrooms. Did I mention there's a terrace? Witness a happy face. All the doors closed. I had room 4. Since this apartment was from an agency, all the rooms had locks. Mine was no different. Insert key into lock and all is well. I will have a bed and sleep for the next 10 hours, right?

NO!

The powers that be have one more surpise for me. This time I do have the wrong key! And so, perfect happy moment: crushed like a cockroach by a subway car. Now I have to call the agency. Thank the friggin' stars I pre-emptively bought a phone in the States. More Spanish. Yay! Could it possibly be that the only English speaker there could have left? It would bring perfection to this day. I explain in my limited Spanish that the Key doesn't work. They tell me to wait for the cleaning lady who will be there in an hour. Oh great...an hour. OK, so what do I do for an hour?Computers are a blessing and a curse sometimes but relaxing and watching some Daria for an hour was definately the former after the day I had.

3 hours later...

Miss cleaning lady finally shows up. Thanks. I hope I didn't take up too much of your time. Even if I said that to her instead of just thinking it, she wouldn't have understood me. Finally, I enter my room with the proper keys sometime around 2 p.m. on August 1st. The room is fantastic. On a corner with two windows on each side. Lots of light. I open them to let in air. Nice Street view.

Sleep...for about 3 hours. Then the hunger kicks in and I realize I haven't eaten since the meal on the plane. Thank you Mom for making me remember to pack food.

Still I go out and quest for a Supermarket. It was a Friday though and aparently, things close early. Like 6p.m. early here. Hmm...Alright. Well, the spagetti I packed will have to do. Plain. Back I go to make spagetti and unpack. No wireless key so no internet. At least I brough DVDs.

Around 10 that night I met my first flatmate. A very pretty Spanish girl from the north of Spain doing an internship here for the summer. And her English was great.

At long last a good end to a terrible day.
Lesson learned: When moving to a foreign country, don't use an agency to find an apartment.
Find a hostal and look when you get there through the internet. You might not like staying at a hostal but it will save you time and money.
Tip: Always bring food with you when traveling long distances.

Next blog: What a 1 month TEFL will teach you.

Back At The Beginning

So, let me start by telling you a little about me and what I will be writing about:

I am from the United States; Brooklyn, New York to be exact. I am 24 years old. For the last six months I have been living in Madrid, Spain. And no, I don't speak Spanish. Yet. But we will get to that later on.

First, let me tell you a few things about life before Spain:

I grew up in the working class, Italian neighborhood of Bensonhurst on the border of the neighborhood Boropark, not far by subway to Coney Island (just to give the non-New Yorkers a geographic idea). As far as neighborhoods in Brooklyn go, it was a relatively safe place to live. There was very little crime, lots of Italian-Catholic immigrants and their Americanized offspring. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to do there. It wasn't a place you would go with your friends for a night out at the bars or pubs because...well, there weren't any. A few old, Italian style cafes where the occupants tended to be the 65+ generation of males living in the area. Needless to say...not very exciting but this wasn’t much of a problem until I left for college.

Living in Brooklyn, or I should add living really in any part of the five boroughs, its important to mention that traveling can be difficult. We have the biggest metro system in the world, spread out over one of the biggest cities in the world. It's also one of the most inefficient. Consistently breaking down, sometimes moving at speeds a snail could top, trains changing from express to local, stations closing during off-peak hours for months at a time due to "construction," never knowing if the next train will come in 5 minutes or 15 or 30 if its nighttime...and that is just during the week. I won't go into the weekend schedules. It can make traveling from place to place in the city a bit difficult sometimes. But again...this really wasn't a noticeable problem to me because I didn't know any better until my first trip to Europe. In fact, before I even went to high school, this was not even an important issue. My middle school and elementary school were within walking distance and consisted of people from the area. There was no need for transportation or for any of the people I went to school with to go anywhere on the subway.

As I got to high school and started to make friends from several different parts of Brooklyn, it became necessary to travel around and make more than the occasional trip to Manhattan. High school, like for many people was the beginning of change and the discovery of three very important things:

1. History is not always how it appears in textbooks.

2. Friends come in all manners of packaging. Some look quite nice to the eyes, but once opened, have nothing but a Pandora's box of disappointments. Then others contain all the things you are seeking at the time.

3. My ongoing love affair with metal music. A progression in music styles has brought me to this point but it all started with those first few bands I learned about in high school. And with those important friends discovered my love for concerts and for a small club right in my neighborhood known to most as L'amour's, where my other metal listening companions would come to spend many a weekends headbanging with the best the genre had to offer.

Now, as a child it never occurred to me that school wasn't important as a learning tool. Sure, I hated school most of the time; having to deal with people I didn't like or subjects I had no interest in but the idea of just stopping never crossed my mind. I had a very encouraging childhood, in that I was always told I could reach anything I wanted as long as I worked hard enough for it, studied, and did the best I could. For a long time I thought most parents were like this, always encouraging their children to work hard and study so that they would someday be better off than their parents. Well, reality would suggest differently. As I went along through those four years, I found more and more people I knew dropping out. These weren't people I spent a lot of time with for the most part but people I knew and talked to occasionally. And I found these people years later, still living in my old neighborhood and doing nothing. Living at home with relatives and some already with new born babies. Many of them hardly even going outside their own neighborhoods, as if they lived in a glass box with a door. They can look out at any time, go out if they so chose but preferred to stay within their confines. I encountered people who told me they never wanted to leave Brooklyn or New York City in general.

New York is great and all and anyone who has ever met me knows I love my hometown but...to never want to leave...ever? Come on, not even for vacation? You never want to see anything beyond The Hudson? Or beyond the horizon of the Atlantic from Coney Island? I propose three possibilities when I hear this statement:

1. You were never properly educated about the world;
2. You are a closed minded person who can't see beyond the things directly in front of them;
3. You are too scared. Maybe you would like it and not want to go back. Maybe you don't want to leave the security blanket that is your family and home (or your Nintendo Wii with Guitar Hero Part 3).

Anyway, this post is starting to take a mind of it's own and get too long. I'll begin to wrap up. This sort of closed-mindedness never sat well with me. I can't imagine living a life only in New York. I suppose part of me was always disappointed that growing up, there was ever enough left for family vacations or trips to the mountains or anything like that. Not having that made me very interested in seeing as much of the world as I can. Additionally, I could never imagine being born, growing up, living and dying all in the same neighborhood. The world is just so big. To live an entire life only seeing a few hundred square miles?

I have also encountered some parents who do not want their children leaving them. My grandmother was like that toward her children. Truth be told I can't imagine anything more selfish than wanting your child to always stay at home and never get any world experiences. I was fortunate enough to have one parent who always pushed me toward doing what I wanted, even though she hates that I am gone, I am doing what I want and seeing the world.

The first time I left home was of course, for University. I did not go to school very far from home. By public transportation it would take about 3 hours to get home. I will talk more about Uni later on but for now I'm going to skip ahead to my first trip overseas: London.

I went to London in January of 2005. I lived there until mid-June. Describing my first impressions of the city - similar but different than New York (as that was my only other comparison at the time). Beautiful, cosmopolitan, and the place where punk rock and trendy-chic co-habitat in relative complacency. A place where you could buy magic mushrooms near the Camden Lock (which I heard had unfortunately burnt down not long after I left) hop on a 10 minute tube ride and find yourself in Oxford Circus, see the guy across the street with his megaphone telling us the end was near and to embrace Jesus, and wander into an H & M. I loved the feel of old mixed with new, the parliment skyline over the Themes and the view from the Eye.

I loved for the first time being able to walk completely around the central area of a city without having to take the subway to get where I need to. More than half a dozen parks and gardens, free museams and the beautiful countryside once you get out of the city. The richness of the land and care with which it was preserved was more than I had ever seen before. Someday I plan to return to see more of the smaller cities, Wales, Scotland and Ireland.

As for the British accent...well...I love it. By the time I left I could easily distinguish North London from South, East from West. Unofrtunately, I can't say much about the people that I met there. The Americans or the British that I met in residence hall or in my classes. Many of them seemed rather clique-ish when I met them and I never really made any lasting friendships with them. However, looking back on it, it did make me a more independent person who survived her first long term traveling experience alone and it made me willing to do it again.

Also in 2005 I traveled for the first time to France. Paris still remains one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen. But I began to notice something. I had been to three of the biggest cities in the world and aside from the accent and some varying architecture, the feel of each city was quite similar. Its difficult for me to describe sometimes...you have to live in a major city for a long time before you notice it. This sort of constant movement, always going from one place to another, nothing ever stopping completely, seeing the same people at the same times of the day, sharing the same buses or trains but never speaking to them, never really seeing them. You pass multitudes of people everyday and probably are related in some strange six-degrees-of-separation way to at least a handful. Still, they become part of the procession of faceless faces that move about, commuting from one place to another. And when they aren't there anymore, no one still takes any notice. It reminds me of part of a dialouge between the characters Patrick Bateman and Detective Kimball from "American Psycho" regarding people disappearing, "The earth just opens up and swallows them."

This is starting to move away again from what I planned on finishing awhile ago. I took a break from traveling to different cities for a while and then in January of 2008 I went to Israel, where I saw some of the most sublime natural landscapes and waterscapes ever. I traveled all over the north, from the Golan Heights to the Grottos, rode camels in the desert, climbed mountains, floated in the dead sea and touched the Wailing Wall. The culture there, the people, the strife, the buildings, the delicate balance of everything there that in one press of a button can be wiped off the map felt more significant than the pop culture, comsumer pandering shops of the previous big cities.

This was taken while climbing in the Negev. The body of water in the distance is the Dead Sea and beyond it is Jordan.

After I graduated school with two degrees: a B.A. in Psychology and an M.S. in Counseling Psychology in May of 2008 I decided to take some time off before continuing on to the Ph.D for myself. To do more traveling and see the world and what else it can offer. That is what led me to Spain. Spain is an interesting country which I will describe in full extent in my next post but for now I will tell you how I came to be here and then end this. It was my original intention to move to Denmark to conduct research in Copenhagen. When the grant unfortunately fell through, I made the decision to keep looking and see what I could find on my own. This led me toward the idea of working abroad. Working would provide me the support I needed to live and travel as I wanted. During my searches, I considered Australia, Japan, Costa Rica, Germany and China. I finally settled on Madrid because of what it had to offer: the opportunity to learn Spanish in the heart of Spain, its proximity to the rest of Europe and Africa and it's need for English speakers. That led me to obtain my TEFL certificate and land my first jobs teaching English here in Madrid. And so far, I am thoroughly enjoying it. I like the Spanish culture, the lifestyle the people have here and the friendliness of the people in general. As of right now I haven't decided when I'm going back to the States.

More on Madrid and the Madrileños in my next post.

If you have read this far, I humbly thank you.