Reunited in London with Dia and Becca from the Reutlingen program!

Who’d have ever thought that I’d wish for a translator while speaking my own native language? Despite the fact that the British speak English, there were so many instances during my ten-day excursion to the UK in which I felt like I was listening to a completely foreign language. Okay, maybe that’s a BIT of an exaggeration. But when pants are “trousers” and underwear is “pants”, or when potato chips are “crisps” and french fries are “chips”,  (not to mention the fact that everyone drives on the other side of the road), it’s not hard for a Yankee to get a little confused.

All joking matters aside though, I truly fell in love with England during my time there. As was the case with my trip to Belgium back in February, I’m incredibly fortunate to have family living in Leicester (a city about two hours north of London) who took me in with open arms, and gave me the full “British Experience.” If you’re wondering what that entails…

• 

  Harry Potter fans, recognize this place? (Christ Church in Oxford)

  Fish and chips, more Cadbury’s chocolate than I care to admit, a number of English ales and ciders, pork pies, sausage rolls, crumpets, scones, and lots of tea

• Taking a day trip to Oxford, where we saw the gorgeous University buildings, took a tour on an open-air double-decker bus, and walked through Christ Church… also known as the set of the Great Hall from the Harry Potter movies
• Spending a day at a refurbished medieval castle, climbing hundreds of stone steps and taking in the amazing views of the English countryside from the tops of the towers
• Participating firsthand in the Grand National horse race (everyone in the family bet one pound on a horse, and my cousins took me to the “bookie” to place the bets before we all watched the race together)
• Exploring the old English countryside, where one of my cousins grew up amidst the endless miles of sheep farms, centuries-old stone churches, boating canals, and of course, the classic old-fashioned neighborhood pub

Doesn't get any more medieval than this!

Along with all of that, I got to spend four (chilly!) days in London, which (despite the weather) was endlessly beautiful to me. I’ve heard from a number of people who have been to London that it’s a city you will either hate or love, and it is with great confidence that I can say that I’m part of the latter group. I don’t know how anyone could find it to be a disappointment – there’s so much rich history, distinct culture, and exciting energy buzzing in the air there. Not to mention the fact that my London experience was highlighted by a fantastic reunion: I met up with my good friends Becca and Dia, who are currently in the Reutlingen, Germany program. We spent our time together covering every last corner of the city on foot, from the River Thames to Buckingham Palace, accompanied by lots of Cadbury’s chocolate, peanut butter and honey sandwiches (nothing like living on a college kid’s budget!) and the joy of catching up and swapping travel stories.

Last time I saw these guys, they were all babies! It was so wonderful getting to reconnect with them.

Though the unique range of traveling I had during my stay in England was vast and punctuated by dozens of fascinating sights, I think the overall theme of my journey in the UK was the wonderful experience of reconnecting. Getting to spend time with my friends from back in Valpo while in London was like a breath of fresh air – there’s nothing like picking back up where you left off with old friends. On the other side of things, I haven’t seen my British family in twelve years, and going to visit those cousins was like receiving a long-overdue gift. Along with the many adventures that they took me on, I’m never going to forget the “regular” moments: sitting around the dinner table telling stories, poring over old photos of my grandparents, parents, and other relatives when they were young, playing on the Wii with my younger cousins (in the picture on the right), or my daily “British vocabulary lessons”.

In all, this trip was a wonderful gift, and I’m “well chuffed” that I was able to experience all the things that I did. Years from now, just the thought of England is going to warm my heart with dozens of happy memories of family, friends, and adventures. I’m so blessed, and England was just another example of the many reasons I have to be thankful.

Valencia, home of paella!

Hundreds of thousands of people filling the streets. Bottle rockets popping and screeching on every corner. 30-foot-tall statues that look like they wandered out of cartoons. The smell of churros drifting from striped tents and of paella coming from restaurants. Kids running around with sparklers. Dozens of parades made up of people dressed in traditional Valencian clothing. A midday pyrotechnic show that shakes the very earth beneath you. Plazas filled with music, and people dancing late into the night underneath a sky full of fireworks. Put it all together, and you’ve got the festival of Las Fallas. Throw 165 international students who are studying in Zaragoza into the mix, and you’ve got an amazing whirlwind of a day that will live on in my heart forever.

My favorite Ninot. Stood well over 30 feet and was absolutely beautiful.

Las Fallas is a massive five-day festival that takes place each year in Valencia, on the northeast coast of Spain (about a 4 hour bus ride from Zaragoza. We packed three buses full of students to go down to enjoy the celebration!) The festival celebrates two key events: the beginning of Spring and the celebration of Saint Joseph, (the carpenter who was Jesus’ Earthly father). It’s essentially a pyromaniac’s dream – the name “falla” derives from the Latin word for torch, and the celebration certainly lives up to the name. Not only does the sound of firecrackers continue endlessly throughout the city from dawn till dusk, but the 30-foot-high statues (called Ninots) that are created by each neighborhood during the course of the year are burned as a symbol of cleansing and deeply rooted tradition. During the middle ages, at the start of the spring equinox, farmers would burn the old wood from the winter in large bonfires. Over the centuries, the tradition has evolved into the construction of the elaborate Ninots, many of them with political or historical themes. It’s kind of a shame that they burn them, in my opinion, because many of the Ninots are incredible to look at. However, during Las Fallas, the city of Valencia essentially becomes a hub for dozens of massive bonfires, and it’s a spectacle that’s anticipated all over Europe as one of the most unique and breathtaking celebrations in Spain.

Girls dressed in the traditional Valencian costumes for Las Fallas

Along with the Ninots and the stunning pyrotechnics, the traditional element of the celebration that I found to be most beautiful were the miniature parades that wound through the city during the better part of the afternoon. Made up of anywhere between 10 and 100 people, these little processions are composed of men, women, and children dressed in traditional Valencian clothing from different important eras in Valencia’s history. Each outfit is unique, and appears almost as its own work of art. The parades are tailed by small groups of drummers and trumpeters, and could be heard and seen on every street in the city during the hours before sundown. The dresses especially reminded me of the kind of thing you might see a Disney Princess wearing (if there was ever a Spanish Disney Princess), and just added an extra dose of fantasy to the already dream-like atmosphere of the festival.

The Valpo kids! (And a classic photobomb from our friend from the UK...)

I think what I love most about festivals (because, as I mentioned a few weeks ago, I also fell in love with the Fiesta de San Valero in Zaragoza) is the way in which the community rallies to celebrate together. Yes, we do have our holidays and celebrations in the United States, but there’s something in the air here that is so rich and invigorating, and it buzzes throughout the people in the city with an energy all of its own. Maybe it’s the element of larger-than-life fantasy, or maybe it’s the tradition. Maybe it’s just the fumes from all the sulfur in the fireworks. Either way, Las Fallas especially has got a life of its own, and it’s beautiful to be a part of. Tourists from all over the world walk side by side with locals, thousands of people of all ages and races marvel together at the sights, sounds, and smells of it all, and for just a moment, you’re allowed a glimpse of a world in which our differences are overlooked and we are simply allowed to enjoy the beauty of community and tradition. It’s a deeply moving thing, and is an experience that I am so grateful to have had alongside my friends from all over the globe.

Doesn't get any more delicious than that...

When I told my host family a few weeks ago that I had booked a trip to Belgium, the first thing that they said to me was “Why Belgium?” It’s not like it’s a massively popular tourist destination. The weather is less than friendly, they don’t speak English or Spanish, and though there are a few well-known monuments and museums, it’s not a common vacation destination, especially during the rainy/snowy period of the year when the weather doesn’t know if it wants to be winter or spring. In fact, up until I got there, I was pretty unsure about it myself.

The reason I chose to go to Belgium is because my grandma’s two brothers live there with their wives, kids, and grandkids. 7 years ago, the Belgian side of the family came out to the States for a summer, and we got along fantastically. However, there are some pretty extreme language barriers between myself and these members of my family. They speak primarily French and Italian (because they’re from Sicily), and when they came to visit Chicago, my mom was able to translate for me. This time, I was on my own and was super nervous that the trip was going to be a complete flop because of communication problems.

The Butte du Lion at Waterloo. 241 steps to the top... climbed them all!

The Cathedral of Saint Michel, in Brussels

How very wrong I was. The freezing temperatures and sleet did nothing to dampen the true joy that comes with family reunions, and despite the fact that the language barrier was at times frustrating, communication was possible through a combination of English, Spanish, French, Italian, and laughter.

During my four days in Belgium, I got to experience a whirlwind of Belgian “must-do” activities with my cousins. Among these were sightseeing in Brussels, visiting Waterloo (the site of the battle where Napoleon’s army fell), seeing the famous Atomium from the 1958 world expo, and of course indulging in the Belgian food staples: french fries, beer, chocolate, and waffles. Definitely wasn’t a health trip, but every calorie was well worth it!

My favorite part of sightseeing during my little excursion to Belgium, however, was the day trip to Brugge. About an hour drive from Brussels, Brugge is a popular tourist destination because of its beautifully preserved medieval architecture and its “Venice of Nord” charm (there are 16 kilometers of canals running through the city.) It’s like stepping back into the middle ages, and is one of those cities that you can easily just choose to get lost in. The architecture of Belgium as a whole (not just Brugge) is very different than that of Spain – beautiful in its own way. Each building is distinct, and I fell in love with the way that they all are squished up against one another.

The beautiful city of Brugge

My cousin and I

As wonderful as sightseeing was, the best part about being in Belgium was easily reconnecting with my family. Enjoying homemade Italian meals together, playing card games, Skyping with family from the States, looking at old photo albums, even simply sitting around and chatting (as difficult as it sometimes was!) – all of those elements together gave me the priceless gift of many memories that helped to eliminate the “homesickness blues” and that will last for a lifetime.

Among the many things that I’m learning about myself and about the world around me while I’m in Europe, one of the common threads that I continue to reflect upon is the value of deep relationships. Whether it’s my immediate family, my extended family, my friends both near and far, or my host family, I’ve really seen what a gift it is to have so many different loving and supportive people in my life. It’s a beautiful thing to be able to have loved ones all across the globe, and I consider myself incredibly blessed to be able to experience the joy of connecting once again with my European relatives. (For Easter, I’ll be going to England to visit another set of cousins, along with my godmother, who I haven’t seen in 12 years! So excited to experience another reconnection!) In a perfect world, I’d pack them all in my suitcase and bring them back to the States with me in May. But I’ve gotten to enjoy the next best thing, and can confidently say that this unique blessing is one of the most wonderful parts about my European experience as a whole.

Being abroad is, in concrete terms, a complete whirlwind of experiences and emotions. One minute, you’re unstoppable – the sun is shining and the world is at your feet, tempting you with promises of adventures not yet had. The next minute, you want nothing more than a Chicago-style pizza, a plate of your grandma’s chocolate chip cookies, and a lazy afternoon at home watching movies with your parents and siblings. Nostalgia happens differently for everyone, and especially for someone like me who has a tendency to get homesick, I have no greater gift out here than that of my Spanish host family.

Families walking hand in hand around Zaragoza

The host family experience is a very unique thing. It takes a certain specific personality type to be able to welcome a complete stranger into your home, to share your life/lives with that stranger, and to say from the start with real meaning, “You’re a member of our family now.” It’s very humbling, and has given me the opportunity to have a different kind of familiar bond/living situation than I’ve ever had before. I’ve heard both horror stories and success stories about host families, and I couldn’t be more grateful to be able to brag about what a wonderful fit I have in mine.

The Spanish are known to be very warm, hospitable, and family-oriented people. Things like eating daily meals around the table together or living within the same vicinity as grandparents and other extended relations are of high importance in Spanish civilization, and evidence of the strong family bonds that exist within this society are visible everywhere you go. It’s not unusual to see daughters or granddaughters guiding their mothers down the street arm in arm, or to see sons, fathers, and grandfathers gathered together over a table at the bar. Couples are very affectionate (sometimes shamelessly so!) and children are often doted upon by their parents. In fact, it isn’t uncommon for children to live with their parents until they marry (and according to the Census Bureau, the average age for marriage in Spain among men is 31 and among women is 27.)

Couples, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, all ages...

Family is king here, and especially in a time where the government and the economy are laden with more corruption and bad news than I ever would have anticipated, it’s those bonds within families that hold Spain together as a primarily optimistic nation full of friendly faces and genuine kindness. Being submerged in such a close-knit culture, I’ve felt both humbled and honored to be welcomed so fully into my host family’s home. It’s the little things that make the apartment a cozy and welcoming place to live. Mini vocabulary/history lessons or talking sports with my host dad, daily tongue twisters and jokes with my host brother, the constant actions of motherly kindness and care that my wonderful host mom demonstrates – (she makes me coffee in the mornings, chases me out the door with a scarf when it’s cold, has the patience of a saint with my Spanish speaking abilities, scolds me when my room is messy, lets me pick what to have for dinner some days… you know, mom-type stuff.)

None of these daily occurrences are really out of the ordinary, but day by day, they change the environment from being a strange place to an adopted home away from home. And as time has passed, I’ve been able to make my own little place within the family, bringing simple elements of my home in the States to my Spanish family. For example, I made banana bread for them the other day, and I’ve never seen three people so excited to try a cake that took less than ten minutes to assemble. It’s those simple, culture-merging household memories that set the host family experience apart from all the other living environments I’ve ever (and probably will ever) experience – bridging gaps through the most basic and familiar daily occurrences and experiencing a friendship that’s cemented while chatting around the kitchen table or while watching a movie together in the living room.

Little by little, I’ve felt myself change from a stranger to an adopted part of the family, and it’s a wonderful feeling to have, especially on days when I’m feeling blue and am missing the people I love back home. When my host mom called me “mija” yesterday (a Spanish term of affection that means “my daughter”), my heart melted. I am so blessed to be experiencing firsthand what it means to really be a part of a family here in Spain.

Also. I tried taking a picture with my host family tonight, but they were camera-shy. I’ll be sure to get at least a few by the end of my semester!

Just a disclaimer: my inner history nerd may or may not emerge during the course of this post. Anyway, now that you’ve been warned…

Something that will continually fascinate me about Europe is just how OLD it is. As rich as North/South American history is, we were just a baby hemisphere in the 1700s when we were getting colonized and industrialized. In fact, compared to the Europeans, we’re still babies. I don’t mean this in the sense that we were devoid of civilization until the 1700s, because we weren’t. What I mean is that Europe, unlike the United States, is brimming with physical reminders of civilizations past – many of them dating back to centuries, even millennia before even the oldest buildings in the States were built.

Ruins of the Roman theater from the empire of Caesar Augustus.

I consider myself to be more than lucky to be living in a city where this phenomenon is so clearly represented. Zaragoza was founded by Caesar Augustus’ empire sometime between the years 25 and 12 BC as, essentially, a retirement village for war veterans. Throughout the centuries, the name of the city morphed from “Caesaraugusta” to “Saraqusta” (during the Moorish/Arab regime from about the 7th-11th centuries AD) to its current, more Spanish/Catholic name “Zaragoza.” The evolution of Zaragoza’s name is a really fantastic representation of how the city’s culture has also changed throughout time, and it gives me the chills to walk through the Roman ruins with the knowledge that once upon a time, 2000+ years ago, there were people just like me living here. In fact, history points to evidence that Saint James often walked along the banks of the Ebro river and lived in the Zaragoza area. (The landmark cathedral of Pilar, built in the 1400s, began as  a chapel/altar built by Saint James after an apparition of the Virgin Mary to him while he was praying by the river.) Call me cheesy, but it really does feel like I’m living in a time machine, or as close to one as I’ll ever get.

The Cathedral Pilar (left), built in the 1400s, on the banks of the Ebro River. It's evolved over time to the impressive building it is now, and began in the 1st century as a tiny chapel built by Saint James.

What’s cool about Zaragoza, though, is that much of its architecture points ahead to the future as well as back to its roots in the past. In 2008, the city hosted the World Expo, which was built around the theme of water and sustainable development. The Expo itself was something of a flop, and didn’t generate as much income for the city as was expected. It did, however, provide Zaragoza with some fascinating examples of modern and futuristic architecture that amplify my little “time machine” mentality even more. In fact, my favorite bridge is named “The Bridge of the Third Millennium”. This city is rooted in a fascinating history, and looks to the future with anticipation. To me, that’s a really cool and very unique juxtaposition.

"The Bridge of the Third Millennium", constructed for the 2008 World Expo.

Los Americanos exploring the Roman ruins!

There aren’t many ways I can describe it accurately and in a way that does it justice, but the fact that evidence from the Roman empire sits on the same riverbank as examples of futuristic engineering is a concept that is endlessly fascinating to me and gives me the goosebumps to think about. It’s something that is unique to Europe (and in this case, specifically to Zaragoza), and sort of serves as a connection to the ever-changing effects of time. No, I can’t go back to the Roman empire, the age of the Crusades, or the Medieval Rebirth. I can’t go back to the Spanish Civil War, and I can’t venture into the third millennium. But exploring all that this city has to offer is a pretty good way to come close.

The past week has been a little lighter on adventures than my last few weeks have been, at least in the usual sense of the word “adventure”. The weather out here’s been somewhat dreary, and along with that, there have been a few days where my mood has been equally so. It’s gotten to that point where things aren’t as fresh and extraordinary as they were when I first arrived, and I feel as though I’ve found my niche among the day-to-day comings and goings of city life. As great as that is, it also means that I’ve been a little restless, especially on those days when the weather isn’t as great as I would hope and puts limits on my ability to get out and explore.

On one of my “downer” days, I was talking to my parents, and they offered me a piece of advice that I think may stick with me for the rest of my life. Not every day is going to be busy, and not every day is going to be full of fantastical journeys that will rock my world. In fact, sometimes (as is the case with this past week), there will be stretches of time where things couldn’t get any more “normal.” But there are small adventures waiting to be had everywhere you go, and if you seek them out, you’ll find that an afternoon spent having a less conventional adventure may be just as valuable and memorable as an exciting trip or a breathtaking cultural experience.

One of the more eclectic coffee shops I've discovered here, about a 10 minute walk from my apartment.

Take, for example, the abundance of coffee shops here in Zaragoza. You find one on every corner, each with a different ambiance and sense of character. Some have bars, some have extensive bakeries, some serve food, some are modern and some are more eclectic. On the days when I’m sick of bumming around the apartment, I’ll call one of my friends, we’ll meet up at an intersection, and we’ll pick out a new coffee shop to try out. Like tonight, for example, one of my local Spanish friends met up with me to have an “intercambio” chat – he’s learning English and wanted someone to practice with. So he spoke mostly in English and I in Spanish, and we helped one another with some of the trickier parts of our respective native languages. And if I can’t get a hold of anyone to meet with, I’ll grab a book (if I’m feeling really ambitious, I’ll take one of my host brother’s books and attempt to read in Spanish) and spend an afternoon reading, enjoying being surrounded by music and conversation and the smells of coffee and bread. Granted, these coffee shop escapades are not daring excursions or incredible parties, but spending time exploring them is a memorable little experience nonetheless – one that I know I will probably miss once I get back to the States. An adventure in itself.

Part of a mosaic that used to be part of the street during the time when the Roman Empire ruled Zaragoza. My favorite piece in the Museo de Zaragoza.

However, there are days when I’m craving a little bit more of an active experience, and when the weather is poor, it’s difficult to find those opportunities around town. It takes a little bit more effort on my part to encounter those experiences, but they’re usually worth the hunt (and sometimes that’s part of the adventure)! Nothing better than deciding to go shopping, and instead stumbling upon a free art museum that is absolutely packed with intriguing pieces from throughout the centuries. Who knew? I spent a good 2 and a half hours learning about art from the Roman Empire to the Gothic period to the days of Zaragoza’s native classic artist Francisco Goya, and chatting it up with the museum curator about my experiences thus far in Spain. It was one of my favorite days here, and the best part about it is that it was living proof of my parents’ advice to me. Adventure isn’t always going to jump up and hit you in the face. It’s all about perspective, and taking the initiative to enjoy the little things.

There are plenty of other opportunities here for spontaneous adventures and discoveries, they just aren’t as glaringly obvious as some of the other experiences I’ve had so far. Walking around the park and practicing Spanish with another international student. Window shopping. Shoot, I even consider my long-winded, all-Spanish customer service phone call with the train company to be a memorable experience. Granted, I’m going to be doing some of the more conventional adventure things as well – there are lots of “touristy” things that I really want to experience while I’m abroad! But the benefits of searching beneath the surface for my daily adventures are both memorable and enhancing to my overall experience of being part of the Spanish community, and hold a place in my heart that I’m sure I’ll remember years from now.