¡Milán, Portugal, y Adiós!

Let me first say that it is ridiculously hard to get the motivation to write about a trip after you are home from it. I think there are a few reasons for this. First, jet lag, I have been too tired to do anything but what was required of me the past week.. Second, a little part of my soul is dying and thinking about Spain makes it all the harder. Finally, there are a million other excuses, but here I am.

I am going to try to recap the last two weeks of my time in Spain, but even with it only being a few weeks ago, it is hard to remember the little details.

We went to Portugal… that I remember. We saw this massive monastery where we got roughly 15 minutes to walk around before they rushed us out of there just in time for a wedding. After touring around the monastery, me and my friends rushed over to this tiny bakery that had bought the recipe for this pastry from the monks of the monastery… some two hundred years ago. They are still crazy busy and selling the things by the hundreds. They were delicious.

We also went to a tower on the water edge that was used as a guard tower of sorts. That was cool because it was super old, super tall, and kind of creepy to think of the men stuck there for weeks on end. It was a little chilly even when we were there, I can’t imagine living there for any extended period of time. Not to mention, there wasn’t a nice modern bridge to get you back on land, they were forced to use boats, which were entirely dependent on the tides and the weather.

So those were the two main things we did in Portugal. Some friends and I found this incredible restaurant where we ate dinner one night. I can’t even tell you how good that meal was. It was basically rice, cheese, vegetables, and chicken all stewed and baked together. Mmmm.

The following weekend me and a group of seven other friends trekked over to Milan, Italy. Thatwas incredible. We had a blast moseying through Christmas fairs, eating far too many pastries, and enjoying the Christmas lights. We also made a day trip up to Como, Italy, which for you movie people, is where they filmed the first James Bond (with Daniel Craig). So that was great, we took a cog train up to the top of this mountain where it actually started snowing and then hiked (yes, literally, in my black flats) to the top where there was a beautiful lighthouse.

Other than sightseeing, we had a fun as a group in the little apartments we rented. One night a group made dinner, delicious pizza-like things, and the last night we had a Secret Santa gift exchange, of which I came out the winner, receiving an adorable wooden goose named Frederick Ralph III. So that was fun.

Since our flight back to Sevilla was at six Sunday morning, and we had to take a bus to the airport at three we decided it made no sense to pay for another night at the apartment. Instead, we spent the night homeless in Milan. We spend hours in café’s until they kicked us out, and then, thanks to my brilliant idea, went to see a movie in Italian. Seeing as this is my blog, I don’t have to tell you which movie it was, either (was it about sparkling vampires and their half-human baby? Most definitely not). 

So after the movie was over, we spend a few more hours freezing and homeless in Milan before catching our bus and our plane back to beloved Sevilla.

So that sums up my last two trips! I cannot believe I finally got it down! This week has been such a whirl of emotions. They give you all of these pamphlets on culture shock and homesickness when you go TO Spain, and then leave you hanging when it is time to leave. Which, in my opinion is roughly 1098379873945987398719.3 times worse than going to Spain ever was.

The friends I made in Spain, the adventures I had, the amount that I learned will stick with me forever. I keep getting the question, “how was Spain?” How does one answer how an event that completely changes your life was? How do I even begin to explain that?

I am still working through that question myself. Thinking through all of the new experiences I had and all of the people I met that were so far outside the norms of my life before traveling and living in Spain. I don’t think I am going to stopworking through it any time soon. Sometimes I am so happy to be home where I can take normal-length showers, eat Chipotle, and go to the store in yoga pants. Other times I stare out my window thinking “what the heck happened, where am I?”

So, to those of you who have read my blog, thank you. It means so much to me that people not only ask the question “how was Spain” but also take the time to read about it. Honestly, it makes coming home and dealing with all of these questions and new ideas running around my head so much easier, knowing that people are behind me.

So in an attempt to answer that dreadful and delightful question… Spain was:

Beautiful. Scary. New. Old. Sunny. Family. Mattress Man. Homesickness. Miguel. Cruzcampo. Traveling. Rain. Pressure. Acceptance. Dogs. Alex. No8Do. Faith. Alflafa. Learning. Spanish. Christmas. Talking. Cobblestones. Questioning. Chipitos. Cade. Granada. Aquarius. Tapas. Cathedral. River. Elegant. Growth. Heat. Betis. Gilberto. Thais. Madrid.. Pavo. Wine. Sunrise. Music. Walking.  Ice Cream. Birds. School. Sevilla. Late. Writing. Forever.

And most importantly, a new beginning to discover myself.

So there you have it. I don’t know if I will keep up this blog. Maybe I will save it for the occasional life-changing experience. Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring. And if you have a minute, thank you for praying, this has been a hard transition, and I get the feeling it isn’t even close to being over yet.

If you are still with me, which you definitely do not need to be, I wanted to share this little tidbit as my closing. While in Spain I stumbled across the Hebrew word כניעה. I have been working through my need to control things for a while and this word actually means “surrender” which seemed fitting for all of the thoughts and emotions running through my head while I was in Spain. As I was pondering this word, hating the very idea of giving up any sort of control on my life, I decided to type it in to Google (a surprisingly spiritual tool). It was then I discovered that this word, כניעה, doesn’t only mean surrender, but also movement. 

This struck me hard, it seemed to be saying to me that I needed to surrender to the plans He has for me, and the path He is creating, but in no way does that mean to stay stationary, waiting. Movement is the key. In hindsight it makes complete sense, it was part of the journey all along. The physical and mental movement I took to get to Spain, to get to that incredible life-changing experience, and the surrender I needed to get me there.