Ch Ch Changing

"If you were in Spain for three years, why didn't you grow a mustache?" Hours after getting off the plane, I rode with my family to Nashville for my nephew's birthday. Being the second youngest, I was smashed in the backseat with my younger brother. He was disappointed to find out that despite being away for four months (not three years), I was still facial hair free.

There are many stereotypes surrounding students who have recently studied abroad in Europe. We're supposed to hop off the plane disgusted by America's love of fast food and lack of public transportation. We recall memories of the well-dressed Europeans we drank cappuccinos and shared cigarettes with. Wherever we studied is more advanced, environmental friendly, and therefore better than our home state,

Truthfully, I'm still the same Marissa I was in January. I didn't start wearing only black and smoking roll-your-own cigarettes. I still wear pink...I've just added scarves to my ensembles. I didn't transform into a liberal environmentalist, but I don't think I'll ever return to taking 20 minute showers. I'm rocking straight across bangs but with a hair bow in my sorority's colors. Tapas, tinto de verano and siestas have been tattooed into my heart, but I still fly Old Glory with pride and thank God every night for my freedom, customer service, and sweet tea.

WHS Rose Ceremony 2010

A few nights ago, two of my friends from high school came over. We sat and laughed for hours and I couldn't believe that six years, five colleges, three cities and two continents later, I still call these girls my best friends. I look at my bedroom adorned with sparkly crowns and smile knowing that despite the places we have been and the choices we have made, some things never change.

The things that did change were the ones that needed to.

I needed to realize that these experiences, that college is not going to last forever and maybe it is time for adult habits, like making my bed every morning. I needed to learn that it was not my family or a boy or my best friend was in charge of my happiness. If someone couldn't give me what I wanted, I had to let go of that control or let go of that person. If I wanting to find peace within myself, I had to buckle down, love myself and grow up a little.

All the places I've been, habits I've held, and people I've met have shaped me into the person I am today. Some of these habits I've kept, like becoming a runner and journaling everyday. Others I've had to let go, like freshman nightlife and sugary coffee. This summer is another choice to build and break habits. Only this time, my adventure won't be across the state or the world, but in the place I've called home for the last eight years.

Dual Devotion

I look at my calendar and notice that I'll be home in less than three weeks. I'm not sure if I'm more surprised that it is so close or so far away.

I'm drowning in stress as I desperately try to contact my advisor who doesn't seem to think my emails are worth responding to. Who ever thought that trying to find an apartment, filing taxes, and securing a summer internship would be virtually impossible from an ocean away?

I'm lucky. I have many things waiting for me back at home. Home. A place where people speak my first language. A place where I don't hear "Rubia! Rubia!" every time I leave my house. A place where I can cuddle with my bloodhound and have dance parties with my little brother. A place with Taco Bell. A place with they serve biscuits and gravy. A place with where they play country music (Thank God for Spotify).

As excited as I am to go home, I'm partially terrified. I have changed, more than I ever could have imagined. It doesn't take more than a quick scroll through Instagram shows that I'm not the only one who is different.

I've missed so many birthdays and inside jokes. I've missed all-nighters in the library and laughable experiences at the fraternity houses. Former crushes of mine are now in relationships. My sorority has added sisters I've never met before. My childhood best friend is engaged and having a baby. My nephew is about to turn two and is officially a "kid" now. My younger brother has discovered social media. My parents are moving.

I look through the pictures I've taken during the past few weeks: flamenco dancers in the streets, sunbathing next to the Mediterranean, white handkerchiefs in the air at a bullfight. I see the faces of dozens of people I may never see again. I think of the crazy nights and the days lounging in the park. I think of the tears cried and the jokes that don't really make sense looking back. As excited as I am to move onto the next chapter of my life, it will not be easy closing this one.

I swore I wouldn't fall in love this semester. I had built what I believed were impermeable walls. However, with every late night confession, afternoon hike, and view of La Alhambra, I felt those walls crumbling. Granada has been written on my heart in permanent ink.

I didn't want to love it here. I couldn't deal with the uphill walks to school every morning. I couldn't deal with sharing a microscopic bedroom with another person. I was not a fan of bacon-less breakfasts. There was no doubt in my mind th I could leave here attachment less.

As always, things did not work out as planned. That girl sharing the tiny bedroom with me? She's learned things about me that I should only share with my doctor. Those long walks into the city? A stroll through the park is the perfect opportunity to let off steam after a long day. All the food I did not care for before were merely acquired tastes. The lack of English speakers and Starbucks was actually quite refreshing. I had been wrong about Granada.

 The unfortunate thing about falling in love is that you have no control over it. You are living your life perfectly fine and then one day, you realize you have been irrevocably changed. I get goosebumps when I think about flamenco shows or sitting in on Mass in the Cathedral. I want to tell everyone the way I feel after climbing the Sierra Nevadas or walking through a 1,000 year old building. However, not all loves are meant to last.

In just a few weeks, I'll be leaving Andalusia and re-entering the Southeast. I'll trade in tapas bars for barbecue. I'll  trade the love I have for this place for the chance to be back in the Heart of Dixie. The truth is, you can take the girl out of the Honky Tonk, but you can't take the Honky Tonk out of the girl.

Different Places, Different Faces

My stomach tightens as the reality sets in--six weeks until I'm home-bound. As with all of life's journeys, my time here in finite. This fact has encouraged a little bit more of the "YOLO" mentality than I care to admit. Then again, I may only live Spanish once.

I've thought about what I want from my experience here. I didn't come here to become fluent in Spanish. I didn't come here to play tourist in various European cities. Honestly, I cannot tell you what I wanted when I landed in the Madrid-Barajas Airport almost three months ago. All I know is that this is not what I expected. 

For the remainder of my time here, I have to soak up everything I want my Spanish experience to consist of. Do I embrace local culture by spending my money rollerblading and going out for tapas? Do I want to sacrifice what little money I have to plan a last-minute trip to Portugal? Do I want to schedule an intercambio every evening to practice my Spanish? Do I keep trying to meet as many people as possible? 

I've sought advice from those I know that have lived internationally and most of their advice was the same: absorb everything you can about the culture. Well, of course, but what does that mean? My sister's boyfriend said to me, "You won't regret not seeing a certain city. It's never the places we go. It's the ones we meet that stay with us." 

Looking back to my experience as a sixteen-year-old in Costa Rica, I barely remember ziplining in the rainforest or how I felt when I got my first ever passport stamp. I do remember meeting Kelli, who shared my disdain for the ropes course and still listens to me when I have a major life crisis (read: I don't how to spend my summer vacation). Last month, it was not the Trevi Fountain that made Rome memorable for me but rather Megan who listened to me accidentally spill out my heart as we casually sat on rocks outside the Colosseum. 

I don't want to regret not seeing Barcelona, but more than that, I don't want to regret missing out on getting to know the people this city has to introduced me to. As Semana Santa starts, I cannot wait to see my Catholic host family cook special dishes and get excited about their culture. I cannot wait for my roommate and I to embark on spontaneous day trips, each that will shed a little layer of defense. I cannot wait to have girl talk from the Mirador overlooking La Alhambra with Julia, who has served as my mini mentor as I try to navigate life abroad. 

Seeing a building that is 900 years old will not make you a new person. Life is not about the things you see, but rather the person you allow yourself to become.

I was so cute at 16.

Rome

Granada hikes!

When you surround yourself with people that help you tear down your walls and let love in, your life will never be the same. For the next six weeks, I know my personal "YOLO" will have much more to do with "who" than "what." 

How It's Supposed to Be

"How is Spain?!" "Are you fluent in Spanish yet?" "Are you bringing home a Spanish boy?"

Curious messages appear from my friends, family, and random creatures from my past. Everyone seems to think that I'm here living some crazy adventure, seeing the world, and meeting tons of new people, which, truthfully, I am. However, not everyday am I climbing mountains or travelling to an exotic country. I, sometimes, worry that my "everydays" are not up to par for the stories I plan on telling.

Slowly but surely, I'm learning to accept the Spanish (read: slower) pace of life. This morning, I was talking with a good friend and she said, "What's wrong with going to bed early and lounging around? What's wrong with spending time with friends and just enjoying ourselves?" I've realized that I'm not going to be here forever. When I go home, my busy life will consume me again but right now, what is wrong with just being?

In two months, I will return to all the comforts of home and America. I will be cuddling with my puppy and watching Duck Dynasty with my younger brother. I'll be drinking wine and swapping stories with my mother on the back porch. I'll drive over to my best friend's house and eat too many pizza puffs while watching horrible made for TV movies. I'll take showers that are longer than five minutes and I won't even have to turn the water off halfway through. I'll never be more than fifteen minutes from a Taco Bell and I'll get to eat Reese's cups and Swedish fish whenever I feel the urge. 

Then I think of all the things I take advantage of that I won't be able to take home with me. Hiking in the Sierra Nevada Mountains on weekend. Freshly baked bread available everyday. Ordering only a drink and getting a plate full of free snacks. Dear America, please adopt tapas bars. Not having to tip waiters. Taking day trips to the beach for $15. Churros con chocolate. Spending less $100 and two hours to fly to a foreign country. The freedom to be reinvent myself in a place where nobody knows me. 

I keep worrying I'm doing study abroad "right"...whatever that means. I wonder if I need to go out more at night, or focus more on school, or venture to more countries, or make crazier decisions. I keep wondering if there is something that is going to cause me to look back on this semester with regret. Last night, I realized though, that the only thing getting in the way of my experience is me wasting time worrying about my experience. 

The truth is, it does not matter if I spend every night in the discoteca or if I spend it in the library. It does not matter if I have many Spanish suitors or if I stick to my girls. My experience here is mine alone. I cannot compare it those in my program or the stories from my friends from home have told me. Gazing across old journal entries and even gazing into the mirror, I can see how much I've changed thusfar this semester.

When I look in the mirror, I smooth out my straight across bangs and hope I look a little more European. I still don't drink my coffee black or speak Spanish fluently, but the past few months have come with many lessons learned. With all the experiences I've had and the adventures I've taken, I know that, without a doubt, I am making choices future Marissa will be proud to have lived through. I've got stories for my friends and pictures for my mom.

The best realization, though, is that I'm only halfway there. I still have two months to be as crazy or as focused or as "European" as I want to be. The only thing I plan on changing is my ever-present fear that I'm messing this all up because that is impossible when you are already living your dream.

*Meme was found on Pinterest. It is not my own.
**Picture was taken by Marianne Blythe-Reske

FOMO, Effects of YOLO

This weekend, I had nothing on my calendar. I am not joining my group of friends in Morocco. I'm not having a sleepover with my sorority sisters. I'm not going to a music fest or travelling to a neighboring country. This weekend, I have been staying in Granada..and staying away from Instagram.

I often struggle with the fear of missing out (FOMO). I see my friends landing awesome internships, getting accepted into grad school, marrying the loves of their lives, and travelling the world and suddenly, everything that made my life unique seems insignificant. 

I know you're thinking, but Marissa, you live in Spain. How could you possibly feel like your life is uninteresting? 

The truth is, I know I am blessed. I know that in the grand scheme of life, this is a time in my life that will be packed with stories that proof to show my future children that I was actually cool once. I know that this semester, I have chosen specifically to study abroad in Spain. I chose to live in Granada for four months. I am not here to tour every national monument east of the Atlantic or backpack to every bar in Western Europe. I'm here for to learn more about Andalusian culture...and myself. Everything else is extra.

Studying abroad on a budget leads to many moments of FOMO. No, I cannot go to Ireland next week. No, I cannot buy churros con chocolate everyday. No, I cannot take a taxi everywhere I go, but rather I embrace those 45 minute hikes to pretty much anywhere civilization lies.

However, I think about how only two months ago, I was quite envious of my friends studying abroad. I was jealous of the stories and the pictures and the reminders on social media that their lives were so much more interesting than mine. I think about how many of my friends, some who I hadn't talked to in awhile, said that they were living vicariously through my pictures.

I think about how yesterday, I went and explored my city and found a park with a zip line and a store that sells gypsy clothes. I think about how I popped my head into a karaoke bar and ended up dancing with a crazy old man to a love song I didn't understand. I think of the friends I've made and the music video I helped them make today. I think about how this weekend I saw the caskets of Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand, the monarchs responsible for the Spanish Inquisition and sending Christopher Columbus to America. I smile as I curl my aching toes knowing that my life here is anything but boring.

I don't have to go to Africa to find joy. I didn't even have to cross the Atlantic. The truth is some of my favorite moments have happened in Rast Hall and Mervyn Sterne Library. They have happened in the Florence Taco Bells and my family's living room.

Living life to the fullest is not about the cities we visit or the items we check off our bucket lists. Missing out only truly happens when we are living a life in which we are not at peace with ourselves. As I replay the events of this weekend, I can proudly say that I am happy with the choices I've made and the person I continually choose to be. Missing out implies that we are not doing what everyone else is doing.

When has a story ever been born from following the status-quo?

Freely Mine

Refreshed. 

That's how I feel right now. I ignore the anxiety filling within my chest because I know it has no reason to be there. There is no reason for me to be feeling anything but peace. Nothing is wrong, but I'm not used to this. I'm not used to playing it by ear.

The river I run along

Right now, I don't have a job. I'm not dedicating hours of my week to chapter or recruitment workshops. I'm not sitting in board meetings for organizations I am involved with. At school, and even at home, I live my life on-the-go. I am constantly worried about money and all of my obligations. The time I get to rest is rare and usually consumed with social media and a Netflix binge.

I'm not really sure what to do with all this free time. Never have I ever not had a job. Never have I ever had time or freedom to just explore. Honestly? I'm not really sure what to do with myself.

In the past 24 hours, I worked on one of my fashion articles, worked to create growth within my book club, gave my blog a makeover, finally watched Frozen, worked out (twice), attempted yoga, and shared churros with the only other Delta Gamma in Granada, just to name a few.

I scroll through my Pinterest feed and smile as I see pictures of La Alhambra on a friend's "Bucket List" board. Right now, I'm living a life other people only dream of. I'm getting a chance to do something most people do not get to do. I'm getting the opportunity to anything and everything I've ever dreamed of. I don't have to ask anyone's permission or worry about missing any sort of obligation. (Besides class--I swear I'm in school full-time.)

Do not let the beautiful pictures fool you--my life here is not always a walk in the park...despite the fact that I do take daily walks throughout the various parks surrounding our neighborhood. However, my day also consists of hiking uphill and walking thirty minutes to get virtually anywhere I need to go.

The funny thing is that I worried that the ease that I was starting to live my life with would cause me to become sensitized to the what I like to call the "before stages." You know the beginning of the story when the struggle is still real and the protaginist is yet to have the moment where he realizes how much of a better person he is due to the suffering? Yeah, those moments.

Walk around in sketchy alleys for an hour in the pouring rain while wearing heels because you can't find your friends? No big deal, or as the Spanish would say, no pasa nada.

When you allow yourself to find peace, not even the worst of circumstances can truly disgruntle you. When you give yourself room to heal, the things that used to eat you alive seem much less important. When your blessings are great, you can only laugh at the misfortune in your life.

I knew I would change when I moved to Europe, but I thought that meant I'd start drinking my coffee black and knowing which wine went with each cheese. I figured I'd improve my Spanish and have a stronger appreciation for freshly baked bread drizzled in olive oil. I keep waking up and wondering why I am not European chic yet.

I have four months to figure out "who I am" or whatever that means. I have four months to escape the daily grind and live a life most people only dream of. I have four months to do...well, anything. That in and of itself is the most terrifying and freeing reality that there is. Who will I become? The choice is mine. I honestly could not think of a simpler, more beautiful concept.

I do not know what I am doing six months from now or even what I am going to be doing after dinner...and that is okay. Sometimes I have to set aside my overpriced Lilly agenda, and just do whatever it is that I want to...simply because I can.

Climbing Mountains

"Marissa, just press send."

Last night, my roommate Marianne and I were taking a break from living la vida loca to partake in a dreaded task that every study abroad student must eventually face--that we are actually still in school. Googling internships and configuring summer jobs, we both acknowledged that there were some things we needed to configure for the future. Even worse, there were some things I had not yet figured out from the past.

With a little encouragement, I decided it was time to finally fix a situation that I had put off for far too long. There was a reason I had put off emailing my professor for almost a year--I was scared. The fear of the possible negative outcome was far worse to me than the fear of never knowing.

Gypsy Cave close-up

This past Sunday, I climbed a mountain...literally. I did so in my monogrammed jacket, Spirit Jersey, with my Lilly camera case in tow (that perfectly matched my croakies) but I did it. I went on a 5-hour hike in the outskirts of Granada amongst the gyspy villages.

During the first five minutes, I thought I was done. We had four sets of staircases before we even got on our trail. I thought about saying "Adios" to my friends and walking myself back home for a siesta. I knew I couldn't though. I came to Spain to challenge myself. What was the point of being here if I leave unchanged? 

I took a few "throw what you know" landscape pictures, adventurously wandered into gypsy caves, and even created a few trails of my own. I feigned confidence as we scaled down the muddy side of the mountain when we had reached a dead end. We spent hours figuring out if and how we were going to get off the mountain.  When we finally were on flat land, I had a pride I had never quite experienced. Part of me wanted to sing "Survivor" by Destiny's Child.

Throw What You Know

I'm glad I confronted this fear. Not because it was another story to tell or photo to share, but because there is a peace you can only receive in the outdoors, a level of self-awareness that can only be found in the wild. Even more so, there is a confidence that can only come from staring your fear in the face. When you study abroad, every single day is an adventure. Not because of the mountains you climb, or the bars you go to, or the exotic cities you explore. Even the most mundane activities become foreign, even if it is just trying to find your way home after going for a run in an unfamiliar part of town.

Gyspy Caves

Our dreams will always be more colorful and more challenging than we had imagined and our fears will always be smaller and less important than we ever thought. Each night while going for a run, I wonder what trials and tribulations I will face in the next day. As I see the sun set on the peaks of the Sierra Nevada, I cannot help but be a little hopeful.

So last night I asked myself, "Why are you scared of sending an email?"

Church and Churros

Chocolate and churros, again.

I keep promising myself that I won't eat churros every chance I get, but the pastelerias that we pass every time we go, well, anywhere, are too good to pass up. Also, the Spanish tradition of not eating dinner until nine or ten at night leaves me starved a few hours after lunch.  I cannot think of a better indulgence to complement my daily "siesta" than this chocolate treat. In Spanish culture, it is common for most of the city shut down around 2PM so everyone can come home and take a quick nap and eat lunch with their families before continuing the work day. 

However, the fact that our homestay is one of the further ones (a 30+ minute walk to school and the city center) makes me feel a little less guilty about this irresistible part of the culture.

I have been travelling for a week now, having spent two days in Madrid, another day in Toledo, and then finally making it home to Granada. As fun as it has been, I'm so ready to get in a routine. I've taken my placement test, settled into my new home, but I can't still help but feel like I'm merely playing tourist. I'm dying to escape my American group and really live the Spanish life.

I am trying to take in every moment whether it has been through the lense of my camera or just my own two eyes. However, the best blessing I have had in this trip thus far was the day my camera died...

Toledo is the most beautiful place I have ever seen in my entire life. The entire city is protected by a fortress and is Medieval. It is called the city of three cultures because of its Catholic, Islamic, and Jewish influences. It looked like a scene from Lord of the Rings. There are mosques that are now Christian places of worship.

What we know as basic history is reality for these people. Conquests are not something to learn for a test, but what has affected everyday of their lives. 

After snapping a picture with our attractive tour guide, a few landscape shots, and a roomie pic in front of the beautiful country side, my camera decided it was done. I did what any millenial would do in my situation-attempt to use the smartphone my program provided me with, but the zoom did not work and none of my quickly snapped pictures did this city justice. Eventually, I had to accept the fact that here I was in the most beautiful place I have ever seen, without a camera.

At first, I had never been more frustrated. If I cannot Instagram this city, was I even really there? If I cannot share pictures with all my Facebook friends, what is the point? 

Then as I was walking inside the Cathedral of Toledo, the craziest thing happened. I saw the lack of a camera I stood in awe as I listening to the tour guide talk about this singular building took six hundred years to build. I stared at the details in each carving in the wall and the seats in the choir and was speechless for what was probably the first time in my life. 

I was blessed enough to not have the distractions of technology. I wasn't trying to capture the moment with my camera, but rather my mind. I was not worried about saving a memory for later, but rather living it.

The entire experience was so foreign to me...We don't have these opportunities in the U.S.; we don't have anything comparable to the architecture here in Europe. In our two hundred year old country, we do not have buildings that took centuries to build. In our convenience country, we do not build things to last. 

Maybe it was all the religious history or merely the fact that there is something so much greater than myself, but something stirred inside me whilst in that cathedral. I lost track of time and seemed to forget that buildings that are centuries old do not have central air and the chill seemed to overtake the entire building. My mind blurred out the words of the tour guide and I was overcome but the mere existence of such a thing.

My generation, with our smart phones and fast food, does not care that good things take time. We want something, anything, now even if it means that we would have to sacrifice quality. Why take the time to grocery shop and prepare for a nice, home-cooked meal when we could just run to Taco Bell?

As I try to learn the metric system (Why do we not use it in the States?!), a new city and navigate a cultural where people don't smile at strangers, I accept that I will be spending much of my time outside my comfort zone this semester. Then again, isn't that the point of deciding to leave behind everything you know and love to "find yourself" in a foreign country?

Maybe there is so much more to life than the American view of the superiority of efficiency. Maybe not. All I know is that I'm willing to find out.

Hasta luego!

Royal Palace in Madrid

Toledo countryside

Toledo, again!

Obligatory roomie pic

Note from author: Research the cathedral. Though the pictures will never do it justice, you will not be disappointed.

*The picture of the churros and the Cathedral are not my images and I claim no rights to them. They were found using Google Images.

Bye, Bye, Baggage

My bags are packed. My boarding pass has been printed. I've sent the "OMG" Snapchats and I'll miss you texts. I've cried tears and laughed until I felt like the stitches from my wisdom teeth were going to bust. I've given the tightest hugs, said the most sincere goodbyes, and had quite a few "Where is it?" panic attacks.

I guess this means it is time to go. 

Tomorrow, I will be getting on a plane to go to Madrid. Talking about moving to Europe without any friends or family is one thing, but actually doing it? It may or may not be a little terrifying. In a matter of hours, I'll be boarding a flight to Europe with nothing but the suitcase my mother bought me. 

As I've had to condense my life into a suitcase, a carry-on, and a large "purse," I've been having to heavily consider what I can and cannot live without. I find myself throwing away objects I once found sentimental or giving away event t-shirts that had just wore thin enough to be comfortable. I've noticed that I've let some people fade from my life.

I'm able to say that I'm leaving without any romantic attachments...unless some potential Prince Charming is going to show up outside my gate and beg me to stay (Spoiler alert: I won't stay, but I'd still appreciate the gesture. I've always wanted a storybook romance, just saying).

Single doesn't mean I didn't have some hard goodbyes though. I think about how my younger brother asked, with tears in his eyes, why I had to leave. I think about having to watch my little's yellow Mustang pull out of my driveway, or my best friend making me promise to go on a beach trip with her as soon as I get back.I think about my sister-in-law and my aunt reminding me that I better write everyday, so that I'll have material for the book I'll inevitably write.

A motif in midst all the messages are questions of fear and excitement. I'm scared that the airline will lose my luggage or I'll forget all the Spanish I've learned. I'm scared that I won't be able to find a hairspray I like or that my roommate and I won't get along. I'm scared that one of my littles will need me. I'm scared that I'll miss out on life back home.

For every scary thought, though, I have three excited ones.I'm excited about being given the opportunity to be more selfish than I ever have in my entire life. I'm excited about being able to wake up in the morning and wander streets that are older than Jesus or visit a museum where the paintings of Picasso are. I'm excited to improve my Spanish and enhance my education in a way that most people don't. I'm excited to share movie moments and sangria with strangers. I'm excited to be legally allowed to drink (and I have no shame saying that--I heard Jesus drank wine). I'm excited to get lost, to find love, to feel alive. I'm excited to do the things that most people only see in movies.

The biggest thing that both scares me and excites me is that I'm going to find something I cannot live without. Whether it be a lifestyle (daily nap, please), a gorgeous Spanish boy, or a favorite wine. I'm scared because every "phase" we encounter changes us, moves us much more than we could ever expect. I'm scared of the inevitable changes that will take the person I am today and mold me into something greater than I knew I could be.

Fortunately, I can acknowledge and be open to these changes. I'm letting go of my past regrets and unstable relationships in hopes of finding something better in Spain. Maybe I'm a dreamer, but that's okay. I'd rather be a dreamer than be someone irrevocably jaded.

As I reorganize my suitcase to try to fit all of my sundresses and scarves inside, I can't help but wonder if I've over packed. I realize that if I leave a little room in my suitcase, I'll have more room for the things I may find in Spain. So, as I pull a few things out of my suitcase I swore I "needed," I imagine myself browsing through a Spanish market picking out a new scarf. I replace a few sorority t-shirts with my sketchbook and shift  a few things around. Four months is a long time to be living out of a suitcase, but it is far too long to be holding onto home.

I once read, minimalism isn't about forgoing the value of things, but rather by choosing to have less, you are giving more value to the things you own.When we get rid of all our extra baggage, we are free to do so much more with our lives. I am free to fall in love...or to travel the world.

When I get on the plane tomorrow, I don't want to wonder whether or not I left something important behind. I am going to own the choice I have made because I won't be able to turn around. I won't be able to ask my mother to ship me something or send me money to find another one just like it in Granada.

I'm still packing the paper thin t-shirt that my brother bought in college and the dress that makes me feel like Beyoncé. There's nothing wrong with having "things" or being the kind of person who likes to shop. You just have to ask yourself, am I holding onto something that isn't quite worth it?

If we gave up all the things we were holding onto, what would we have room for in our suitcases? In our hearts? In our lives?

*Image found on iheartinspiration.com

Home Sweet Shoals

"Which one of you ladies turned the thermostat down out there?"

Inside Tuscumbia's Cold Water Books during last week's polar vortex, I sipped my vanilla latte and sought to learn more about the ongoings of Coates & Kennedy firm. During our interview, an older man stopped in, bought a copy of the local newspaper and cracked a joke in that way that only older people can. As I sat with these professional women, I just smiled and thought, This doesn't happen in Birmingham.  

Almost two hours later, I felt a tinge of embarrassment as I realized I had just told complete strangers about all my fears for spending the semester in Europe and how driving on O'Neal bridge made me reminisce the trips I had to take to the state trooper's office. Though I consider myself an open book, I usually don't bare it all in a professional setting. Instead of learning only about the business these women ran, I learned about their lives as well. They spoke to me about their experiences in college and travelling throughout Europe and even told me to add them on Facebook. I left with more than just business contacts--I gained friends (at least according to Facebook). 

On the way home as I crossed the bridge, I didn't think about the horrific lady at the DMV. Instead, I casually admired the way the street lights seemed to light up my hometown. I tried to sneak a picture, but after almost scraping the wall a few times, I decided against it. Seriously Florence, that bridge is way too narrow for cars made after 1930. 

*O'Neal Bridge--Florence, AL

 Just across that river is the coffee shop where I spent many Friday nights conspiring to leave this town. Around the corner is The Chicago Cafe, the restaurant my father literally built with his own two hands, the place I first learned the value of hard work--and that child labor laws don't apply to the family business.

As a "yankee," I hated spending my teenage years in a town that could be summed up in a country song. I wished everyday that we had a mall with more than one story, or at the very least a Starbucks kiosk. However at Rivertown Coffee Company, I didn't laugh when they wrote the wrong name of my cup because the owner (a friend of my father's) starting making my order as soon as I walked in the door. I hated having to drive 20 minutes to civilization, but now I like sleeping without the sound of helicopters every night. In high school, I loathed going to the grocery store and seeing everyone I went to school, church, and worked with--because they were all the same people. Living in a small city, I no longer have the luxury of convenience relationships with apartments, internships, and activities being spread across the Magic City.

Cold Water Books--Tuscumbia, AL

I always felt like there was "nothing cool" about the Shoals. Now I proudly tell people that Helen Keller is from here (Those of you telling Helen Keller jokes have nothing on us, we did a full unit on Keller in 9th grade). I think about the monthly art fest called "First Friday" where vendors would sell jewelry and paintings and many local bands (some of whom are now on the radio) got their first chance to play live. I think about how my father's role in organizing these events and how unique it was that I had the experience of assisting him. I think about the belly dancers who appear everywhere and the annual Renaissance Faire with its turkey legs and the people who come from all across the Southeast dressed up in Medieval attire. I remember taking pictures with Delmar dancing and receiving the most random gifts that Larry had come across. I smile as I think of the street corner preachers with their million dollar bills and hopes for redemption. 

At the beginning of my interview, one of the first things Ms. Coates said to me was, "I had to come back. I love this place."  I nodded, took a sip of my latte, and said something about it being "a great place to raise the kids." However as I've grown older, I've begun to see the appeal that lies in living in the area that houses Fame Studios and birthed the "Father of the Blues." 

When my mother asked me this morning if I was going to stay in Birmingham after I graduated or if I was going to move home, I just shrugged. The truth is, I still don't know whether I'll be here, there, the beach, or deworming children in Somalia. 

Right now, I couldn't be more proud to call the Renaissance city my home. I may be a yankee by birth and a city girl by choice, but there's something about the peace, history, and culture found in the Shoals that really can't be replicated anywhere else.

What can I say? This is my home. 

*Photo was found on Times Daily's website 

 **Author's Note: The Shoals is the part of North Alabama surrounding the Tennessee river, including Florence, Tuscumbia, Muscle Shoals, and Sheffield.