Red Squiggly Lines

I opened a brand new Word document to write something in English to find that the language was still set to Spanish.

Since I'm in such a different environment right now, Spain seems like it was a blur that probably happened. As trivial as it is, this little detail reminds me quite vividly that this time last month, I was walking down streets illuminated with butterscotch streetlights and smelling of cigarettes, wine, pastries, and lilacs.

Two times I got teary

When I came back from my trip to Italy in March, there was this package waiting for me on my bed, and I let out a scream. Then I read the letters that my apartment-mates sent me, and I started tearing up. Then I looked through the goodies, found my favorite "cardboard" crackers accompanied by some very extra crunchy peanut butter, and I became very thrilled. Needless to say, that day was a very emotional one for a girl who's usually a stone. Apartment-mates, if you guys are reading this, I just wanted to say thanks once again. One of the most significant things I had to give up to study abroad was living with you guys for another semester. I have such fond memories of our late night chats and antics, cooking together, planning our Christmas party, sitting primly in the living room when we finally got couches, grocery shopping and thrifting, and playing in the snow. If we were to be given an exam on apartment drama, I think we'd all fail because we never experienced it. So this sentence marks the end of my mushy-gushy paragraph on how lovely these mates of the apartment are, but our friendship? I hope it's only the beginning.

Okay, so I honestly did not expect to be too emotional when it came time to say bye to Spain because I was very excited about returning home. Of course I was sad to leave, but I thought the two feelings would cancel each other out into ambivalence.

But let me start with when I was in junior high and high school. I went to a very small international school in Mexico. It was a place where everyone knew your name and you knew what your teachers did for the weekend. It was a normal occurrence for me to see the principal in his comfy colored shorts at the grocery store. When I decided to attend the University of Virginia, I thought I'd have to say farewell to associating academic settings with the Cheers theme song. But the little Valencian program gave me a chance to experience once again that close-knitty feeling that I much rather prefer to the fish-in-the-sea environment. But before I start sounding like a study abroad brochure, I will get to the point: I teared up when saying goodbye to my Spanish mass media professor (the rad lady in the glasses). I don't know whether this testifies to my nerdiness or just how lovely a professor she was--perhaps both, but probably a greater proportion of the latter. Anna Chover, I will miss our chats and your vivacious teaching style--especially that time you repeatedly stomped on a rebellious piece of chalk into pieces as punishment for continually rolling off your desk. And I love how much passion you have for newspapers.

Of course, I can't end this post without mentioning a certain peculiar art history professor of mine, Enrique (below). He was so shy and awkward on a daily basis, lived with two cats, and once gave us a lesson on the most effective way to position a bomb in order to completely blow up a building. Excuse me? Which reminds me of another awkward professor/moment: once, my culture and conversations professor Joaquin made us promise not to tell, then proceeded to tell us that the woman he married was not the one he loved the most; he married her more out of convenience. Times are tough, so I guess he thought it clever to consolidate students and therapist into one.

The phrase "a unique educational experience" is ringing in my ears in a variety of pitches. My professors were fantastic, strange, and unromantic. There's a slim chance I'll find out things like these about my professors in the semesters to come, which is a pity because I've rather enjoyed discovering that professors are real people, too.

My Latin American Lit professor! He was brilliant.

Howdy stranger

It is 5:30 AM mountain standard time, which means I'm in Texas, baby!

I arrived last night after an 18-hour journey. The first thing I've eaten since being back in the States is a KFC dinner because it was the only place that was open.

The mac and cheese was tasty.

The first thing I want to do today is go to Barnes and Nobles, breathe in its wonderful smell that I've missed all semester, then go on with the rest of my day, which I hope includes thrift store shopping for some musty old books.

I think I'll write four or five more posts (this blog has become a sort of scrapbook for me) and then take a break from explaining Spain.

Okay, well, time to wake up my parents! Have a good one.

Goodbye, chubby dear Spanish tomatoes

Saying farewell to one little detail at at time--

A step back to relish it in

Last Thursday at the Chinese restaurant

I scooted out of my chair to make sure I realized what a warm, cozy memory my brain was taking in.

It's almost time to go

Today was the first of many final goodbyes here in Spain. (Claudia dear, you might not want to read this.) It almost didn't happen though. You see, I was supposed to meet my German friends at a place called Alameda, but I assumed we were talking about the park named Alameda when they actually meant the metro stop. So I felt kinda sad about not getting to say goodbye. But later this evening, I came across Pia at Zara's, and I'm so thankful that I at least got to say goodbye to her. She doesn't even live in Valencia, so coming across her like this was definitely an unexpected and wonderful surprise.

I realized that saying goodbye here in Spain is a gritty experience. The chances of us seeing each other again are slim jim. I mean, it could happen, but realistically, it might not. Four months was not long enough to become bosom buddies, but the good-byes are nevertheless hard because human disconnections are painful.

Some little things I'll miss:

Skyping with my parents

The cuteness of Spanish children. When it's chilly the little girls wear a variation of this Mary Jane shoe style with thick stockings and woolly coats. We spotted this pale pink one perched on this bush. What a kind stranger to have put it there just in case the owner's parent was looking for it.

Sunday lunches. Since Saturday was Spain's labor day, all the markets were closed . Thus, my host padre had no time to go buy green beans and lima beans for this paella dish, yet it was still tasty.

Valencia and its riverbed park

Mini-hoorah

In one hour, I will have taken four finals, turned in one 8-page term paper and three short summary essays--all in the course of two days.

Summer is a sizzling on the tip of my tongue.