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.