tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70223908477809982512024-03-28T22:30:10.605-05:00Spain“People travel to faraway places to watch, in fascination, the kind of people they ignore at home.” – Dagobert D. RunesMary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.comBlogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-73202918333795557082013-08-23T07:40:00.000-05:002013-08-23T07:40:30.060-05:00Off and AwayIt's officially been my longest non-blog-writing streak, but I've decided to make some changes to help this. <br />
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Tomorrow I am headed off to Europe, where I will spending a semester studying abroad at the University of Seville in Spain. I've created a blog on WordPress that will probably be updated more frequently than this one, as it will be more media-based versus writing-based. My longer posts with descriptions, stories, and all that jazz will be updated on this blog, while I find WordPress a bit more suited to handle all of the millions of pictures I take over time.<br />
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I'll be spending the next week with family in the Netherlands, before I fly off to Spain to visit Caroline for a few days in Madrid.<br />
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Two summers after our big departure in Madrid, I'm finally heading back. What's weird is how long ago exchange feels, and 'how young' we all claim to have been. Three years have passed since I was packing and heading off to New York for orientation, and I'm in the same situation again. It's like repeating something from your childhood...except...not quite.<br />
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Hard to explain.<br />
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Packing-<br />
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First things first. I'll be bringing two checked bags to Spain versus the one I took during my year abroad. Why? Because I plan to buy the least amount of things possible, so I'm just taking it all over. I know the styles, I know what I missed last time, and I know that no matter how much time you spend packing you'll always end up bringing things over you won't need, and leaving things at home you wish you'd brought.<br />
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Housing-<br />
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I won't be staying with a host family! I've graduated. I'll be in a shared apartment, be responsible for my own meals, etc. It was my first choice and I just got my placement yesterday. It looks like I'm really close to the University, which is good, because from what I can tell the nearest bus stop is about 3/4ths the walk to the university. The University is beautiful by the way, I'd post pictures but prefer to post only what I, myself take, so those'll have to wait.<br />
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Still don't know who my roommates will be, or when they will be arriving, but that doesn't really bother me too much. I didn't know my college roommate before I got there, and things couldn't have worked out better.<br />
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Classes-<br />
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Classes for me can be taken at three different places. One- at the study abroad center (CIEE) with other CIEE students. Two- Direct enrollment at the university with other Spanish students. And three- at the university, but classes specially designed for exchange students. Exams can range from anywhere between December 12th until the end of January, depending on where I take them. This will influence my choice a bit, as although I am guaranteed housing until my exams end, I'm not sure if I want to be sticking around an entire month for just one or two exams. We'll see.<br />
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Trips, traveling, galore-<br />
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WE GO TO MOROCCO!!! One of the things on my bucket list. We got our itinerary about last week and we have a few excursions planned. Good stuff.<br />
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For now that's about all, I'll post again with some type of news.<br />
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Keep updated with my "photo blog continuation" on WordPress at <a href="http://marybethabroad.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Mary Beth Abroad.</a><br />
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( <a href="http://www.marybethabroad.wordpress.com/">www.marybethabroad.wordpress.com</a> )<br />
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"Y'all come back now,"<br />
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-mb<br />
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Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com330tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-84508080682068796902012-12-22T00:42:00.000-06:002012-12-23T20:28:06.948-06:00Morning ReportIt's not writer's block. All the ideas are here. It's not a lack of interest. I'd throw everything away if that were the case. It's not that things are changing. My intent it still to have an active blog.<br />
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Perhaps it is the lack of discipline. To make the time, sit down, and write about the millions of ideas and things that go through my head every single minute of the day. Have you ever tried pouring water into a bottle from a pitcher? Typically you need a funnel to make your life easier. But even then you can't go too fast without making a mess.<br />
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My apologies for the "No-Post November." Deep down inside I like to blame it for my lack of time, while very true I think it's always possible to make room for the little things.<br />
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To touch on a variety of topics, here is the morning report. I'll give you the long, and the short.<br />
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I went to college loving to write. Loving to blog. Loving to travel, and take pictures. I went to college as a Mass Communications major. <br />
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That didn't last long. <br />
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The major, that is. <br />
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Currently I'm listed as an International Business major at Loyola University in New Orleans. Thank you to my teacher who took a point off when I wrote "University of Loyola" on my report. I won't ever mess that up again.<br />
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However, things may change. There's no need to major in Spanish when Spanish is your first language, and there's no need to major in International Business when so many things in your life already make you international. So marketing, management, or something else may be my new trend later on. But for now I'm sticking close to home with IB. <br />
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And this is where AFS come into play.<br />
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The more time that passes, the more I am confused why parents don't let their kid go on exchange. Sure every kid is different, but in most cases comes down to one thing. The parents are selfish. <br />
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There you go. I've called you out, parents. You are simply too selfish for not letting your kid leave you.<br />
<br />
And it's as simple as that.<br />
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The fact that I have gone on exchange before going to college is what gives me a leg up, and is what is going to get me in the door before many others. In the competitive world we live in today, it is crucial, now more than ever, to be playing in the same game with everyone else. Take a soccer match as an example. Have you ever seen a player not wear cleats? Certainly not. That would put them at a disadvantage. So let's say everyone is "made equal" so to speak. They all have the same equipment. Play on the same turf, and play with the same soccer ball. Everyone was required to try out for the team (think: apply for college), get accepted, and practice with the rest (think: study). <br />
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Now think, exchange.<br />
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Initially, it's all exciting. You figure things out. Experience new things. Go through ups and downs. Start out weak, and grow. In soccer, you develop skills. Build relationships with team members, etc.<br />
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The more games you play, the better you play your next one.<br />
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So, your first abroad experience is like playing your first soccer game. But here is where things get tricky. So many college students play their first game in college. Game One. <br />
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<br />
<br />
How many college students have already played the game?<br />
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<br />
Oh, you have! Good. Although I have not met anyone so far from my university that was a high school exchange student, here's where so many people go wrong.<br />
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News to you, you are not at the top of the totem pole.<strong> </strong></div>
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<em><strong>Look at all of the <u>international students</u> who are kicking our rear ends.</strong></em></div>
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In other words, all of the international students at my school have most of the core competencies I thought I had, too. Many went to a bilingual or English speaking school, and have two languages down flat. They go to school here in the US, and go home to their home countries over break. </div>
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You can't win in a tie.</div>
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Makes me feel bad for those who didn't even make it to the tie, though. I'd hate to have all of that catch-up to do, just to enter the competitive field. Granted, you may be going for a major that is completely unrelated, so it's not like this applies to everyone.<br />
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The bottom line? Whatever you do, make sure you are equipped with everything you need to put you at the competitive level. Once you're at that level, it's your job to get the edge, and win the game. <br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">Just remember, not all games can be won, </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;">and no 'one' can win all games.</span></em><br />
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Back to my life story.<br />
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On campus, I'm involved in quite a lot. International Buddies, International Student Association, Sorority, Ambassadors, and will be working as an English tutor next semester. I'm taking 18 hours including three business classes, history (common curriculum), Spanish, and Italian. Since I was able to skip the first level, Italian is just my "fun" class, something for my personal interest. <br />
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<ul>
<li>Fall 2013 I will be on exchange again! Yay! Just now to figure out where..... <br /><br />*repeats blog from beginning*</li>
</ul>
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I'm quite excited, for a variety of reasons. One, as mentioned before, I've already played one game. Even though changing continents can sometimes be the equivalent to changing from soccer to baseball, I think I have a certain guaranteed % of having more success. There's so much more to learn, and it's nice already have been through the routine once before. Depending on where I go, I'll probably stay with a host family. In order to broaden my international range, I'm looking at Latin America, and thinking about trying to pick up Portuguese. ...We'll see. <br />
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<ul>
<li>The big project over holiday break is looking for an internship. I am coming to the conclusion that this is more difficult than choosing and applying to a university. <strong>O</strong>ptions. <strong>C</strong>hoices. <strong>E</strong>ssays. <strong>A</strong>cceptance.</li>
</ul>
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<li style="border: currentColor;">I'm convinced that my life will forever be AFS. There's not much I can do about it. At first I tried to deny it, although I've come to accept it now. In a typical day I will talk/email to people from 4 different time zones, and type/chat in 2 different languages. The number of languages spoken between those 4 different people is around 5. When I go to the post office, I'm mailing more international than national cards. My iTunes has quite the collection of foreign jams, and all of this is my normal routine. Living in Atlanta is a bit strange, since I only have one friend here (whom I met through AFS). I'll remind readers that this is because we moved here right before I went to university.</li>
</ul>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8j4oCQbFzA8nkg0Bq-WrpFu8MDZXx7aZCfQbeXG51GF8kpp0aMUTOFX1kwTJ0zDDatokGvgVzGb4GgtEicAPXGaMH6GCkhPwSd86zszb2-NpsT2ZkenoAp6fBAz0ACWdmlPl_Da6yDcc/s1600/blog0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" eea="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8j4oCQbFzA8nkg0Bq-WrpFu8MDZXx7aZCfQbeXG51GF8kpp0aMUTOFX1kwTJ0zDDatokGvgVzGb4GgtEicAPXGaMH6GCkhPwSd86zszb2-NpsT2ZkenoAp6fBAz0ACWdmlPl_Da6yDcc/s320/blog0.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Olivia Seal</td></tr>
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<ul>
<li style="border: currentColor;">Speaking of the end of the world, I can assure you all that we are pretty safe. And if we're not, I'll make sure to post the latest news from my friends in New Zealand. They are almost one full day ahead of us, remember.</li>
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<li style="border: currentColor;">The terrible disaster in CT was ten minutes away from my friend's high school. Also another AFSer. Things like this make me laugh when people say that going on exchange "is too dangerous." Have we taken a look at the country we live in today? Someone needs to connect the dots why this doesn't happen in other countries. Not saying that there aren't worse, but there are better.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>I'd like to throw out a congratulations to all of the "Viaggio Italiano" scholarship winners. Always feels nice to give back to AFS, this time around as a judge. After reading a handful of essays, I recognized many of the winners. I am not to give out any information on details, but am at liberty to say I thoroughly enjoyed reading the essays in response to a question about how you would handle "the worst day" during exchange. A few of you nailed it on the head. I did not, did not, did not read every one's essays. Just some.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>My mind is still stuck in fall, or late summer for that matter. New Orleans is a tropical rain forest. It's weird, because the more places I go to in the US, the more I realize how different one place is from another. I always kind of saw our country as being more or less the same overall, and even though it is in many respects, there are a lot more inner-cultural differences than I thought.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Sorority? Yeaaaah I'm in one of those. It surprises many people when they hear that. My biggest struggle with it is how people start to think that sorority is a characteristic of them. Joining a group, to me, doesn't make you a better person. Other people can impact your life, but not a color or a symbol. College is a lot more like high school than I thought it would be. "High school on wheels" I like to call it. It's easier to get away on wheels. We don't have houses, though, I still live in a dorm. Although now in 2012 the term "dorm" is a derogatory term, and we as ambassadors must use "residential halls" instead. Same thing with the word "rush" in sorority. We have to call it "recruitment" instead. Anyhow, one day a few weeks ago a fellow friend was talking about how she wants to go on exchange. But she doesn't know when, because HEAVEN FORBID WE MISS RECRUITMENT NEXT YEAR. A bunch of "nods" and "yeahs" of others in the car followed. I wanted to run out of the car and shatter something. <br /><br /><strong>SEE THE BIGGER PICTURE, PEOPLE. SEE THE BIGGER PICTURE.</strong>3 days of recruiting freshman members into a group that you will only be in for three more semesters?What in society has corrupted us into thinking that these current day things, such as sorority, prom, or high school sports are so life changing? College in many ways has been good, because it's taught me to just keep my mouth sealed and not even try to put the energy into things like this. Although I just wrote about it, so I guess that makes me a bit of a hypocrite.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Everyone should get Google+, and even though I myself have not really figured the whole thing out, it appears to me that it can function the same as Skype, but with up to 9 people. It's also combined the format of Facebook, Twitter, and Pintrest all together. Even though I don't have the last two, some friends of mine claim they are going to start a website posting different quotes and catchphrases I say throughout the day. Hmm...</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>I have watched a few movies via YouTube. Lion King was one of them a few weeks ago. All in Spanish, of course. It is quite entertaining to see how these things are translated and I hope everyone gets the opportunity to be able to experience this hilarious phenomenon. The best is when they translate songs, like in The Sound of Music or The Last Song. It's interesting.</li>
</ul>
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<br />
<br />
So I'll leave it at that, a bunch of rambling, but next will be, finally, about the trip to Graz. Backtracking to my excursion this past summer. <br />
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Enjoy the holidays- we were finally able to get rid of our snow blower and shovels this year. Our university actually had a professional snow company come out and make a pile of fake "sneaux" for the community to play in... It was about 65 degrees out that night.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Not sure which is worse, the mind numbingly ignorant people, or the people who think they know everything about world."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">-Catherine James</span></div>
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Feliz Navidad, chicos.<br />
-mb<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">PS- Props to those who got the "o-say-a"/frustration joke.</span>Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-60859874855276032492012-10-31T23:30:00.000-05:002012-12-03T16:45:43.649-06:00180º<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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<br />
Before October comes to a closing end, I should post at least the smallest tidbit of information before my favorite month is over. Two years ago, I would have never been able to predict my future.<br />
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Here I am, sitting at my desk, looking out my window to a beautiful fall afternoon. In fifteen minutes my philosophy class will start, a teacher will get up to teach, and a group of students will come to class. A few students may arrive late, while some may not arrive at all. Some will sit and listen, while others will take notes. Various students will check their smart phones periodically to see what their friend's Halloween plans are, while others will just surf the web. The class is fifty minutes long, talking about a given reading assignment we were to do on our own. The level of comprehension is not based on intelligence, but rather how well we are informed.<br />
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To recap October, university has been going great. I've been staying involved in plenty of activities, but most of all I have noticed one thing stands out in particular...<br />
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I have learned more in the first half of one semester than any other semester in my life. Academically speaking, that is.<br />
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Yesterday I finally had the opportunity to take a survey called "StrengthsQuest." This online survey gives us a well informed, scientific idea about what our greatest qualities are, and a brief description of them. The welcome week activities held the week before class started included a guest speaker from the company, who described the science behind this process. <br />
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Usually when I am dealing with the topic of "strengths, qualities, etc." I am dealing with the topic of intercultural activities. Hence AFS.<br />
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My "Top 5"?:<br />
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Activator<br />
Learner<br />
Achiever<br />
Command<br />
Adaptability<br />
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The only one I was surprised about was "Learner."<br />
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Recently I have noticed a change in how I get things done. Schoolwork, class lectures; university life has been the start of a whole new routine. The people I talk to, the discussions I've had- things come to me in new ways that they didn't before. Is that due to guilt knowing the price we pay for university's tuition? Possibly. But whatever the drive is, it's there.<br />
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One of every four students in my class will not return next year. This is due to a variety of things such as tuition costs, transfers, or dropouts. The most surprising aspect of attending university has been simply this: people just don't care. They flat out, do not care about going to class, doing well, or the greatest of all, learning. If you handed them a diploma with a big 4.0 they would take it and walk away.<br />
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So what does that mean, 4.0? Well, I suppose that depends on the teacher you may ask. To most college students, it's the ticket to the good life. A good job. But what good is that new job if you can't tell figure out what to do, how, and why?<br />
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Studying is like a competition. The highest test scores win. Because to reality's "judgement day," you either sink, or swim. If someone handed you a trophy, let's say for karate, and they said, "Ccongratulations! You qualified for Nationals!" and you had never once taken karate, chances are you will get shot down in that national karate competition. It's like anything else in life.<br />
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Today is Halloween. Today people wore costumes. Today people painted their faces. Today people came to class. Today people skipped class. Today people came to class in costumes. Today people came to class with their face painted. Today people brought breakfast to class. Today people slept through class. Today people slept through class, while <em>in</em> class. Today is just yet another day of the week that ends in "y".<br />
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Why?<br />
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Because that is how people work. Some put forth an effort and some don't. Such is life. <br />
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Here's a short story.<br />
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This past weekend I was required to make a religious visit for my World Religions class. I went to the Jewish service next door to campus. As I sat in the back of the synagogue and observed the bar mitzvah, an older man passed me and asked me if I would like (what I do not know the official name of, but appear to be their song book) a book. <br />
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"It's ok," I replied, "I'm not actually Jewish, I'm just here for a clas."<br />
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"That's ok," he replied, "you can still have a book, I'll go get you a book."<br />
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He disappeared for a moment, bringing me back a book.<br />
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"Thanks," I replied.<br />
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I thought it was weird that he handed me the book with the backside up. So before opening the book, I switch sides to the front. But the front was blank. "That's odd," I though. I flipped the book back over once again. <br />
There was writing on this side, but in Hebrew. <br />
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I turned it 180 degrees.<br />
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Well, that didn't work because now the tiny words in English were upside-down.<br />
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Confused, I switched the book back over to the front, blank page, and opened the book. The first page was somewhere in the high hundreds. I started to flip through the pages, and then it occurred to me:<br />
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The book was written backwards.<br />
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The fact that the book was indeed written backwards was one surprise, but my biggest shock was that I now realized why the older man insisted on giving me the book. He didn't expect me to understand the words. He didn't expect me to read Hebrew. He didn't expect me to follow him and ask him questions.<br />
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He simply saw the window, although a small window, to teach me something, and did exactly that.<br />
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Where would we be, if no one cared to teach others? Where would we be, if no one wanted to learn?<br />
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"You cannot open a book without learning something." -Confucious</div>
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Happy Fall, Ya'll.<br />
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-mbMary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-50180531431178886252012-09-03T03:39:00.002-05:002012-09-03T03:39:34.500-05:00The Fine Line of Time<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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"Any fool can know. The point is to understand." </div>
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- <span style="font-size: x-small;">Albert Einstein</span></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">[WRITTEN ON AUGUST 15TH, 2012]</span></strong><br />
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Friday I move again. Classes at the University of Loyola New Orleans start on August 27th, and I'll be there, attending a new school for the seventh time in the last eight years.<br />
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It's weird that it's not weird, really. New city, new school, new people, new home. The routine starts again. Pack--travel--unpack--meet people, live life.<br />
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About two weeks ago we moved from Minnesota to Georgia. Again, it's weird that it's not weird. Everyone in my grade is going off to college, so the fact that I am moving is not a surprise to anyone. It's just that this time I won't be coming back for Christmas.<br />
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Since the middle of May, the longest I have stayed anywhere continuously is two weeks. The whole 'getting up and moving locations' now feels like a big game of musical chairs. I've already left Minnesota for a year, so leaving a second time doesn't seem so out of place.<br />
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Things here have been great so far. I can't say that I've seen much more besides the inside of our house or cardboard boxes, but it's nice here. There is also a whole new list of insects to add to my discovery list...<br />
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So, along the fine line of time, there are a few things I'd like to say that are way overdue. To everyone that has kept up with my endless rambling and stories, I really appreciate it. Hopefully there is something that will keep bringing you back to read more, as I hope somewhere down the line something I've written has had a positive impact in your life in some way. <br />
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To everyone who has sent me emails, thank you. The support has been great, and I am shocked at how many people decided to study abroad after reading my blog. Whooohooo!!! Those messages have nearly completed my mission. And congratulations to those who are going or went on exchange, Welcome to the Club.<br />
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There is a whole list of blogs that I follow. Whenever someone posts something new it comes up in my newsfeed, keeping me updated on the latest adventures and travels. It's been great to hear the stories of others, especially when you can relate so well to what they are saying. Reading other blogs has been quite the inspiration, and a great way to reflect back on my own year.<br />
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Take a look at <a href="http://zakitaliano.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Zakiyya's year in Italy</a> and <a href="http://katiemadiganinspain.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Katie's year in Spain.</a> Two blogs that I will really miss reading about all the time.<br />
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A some time after returning back to the United States, I logged into my blogger account, looking for the most recent blog updates as usual. At the same time I was on the phone with Jake. As we were talking, I was reading a blog post when all of a sudden both my name and Jake's appeared on screen, being thanked for writing. I was shocked. I (not only felt like a celebrity) was stunned at how helpful our writings have been for others. And that wasn't the only time--- So here's a big 'de nada' to you guys, and to those who have read "my whole blog," which blows my mind. Not even I have read my whole blog. Some blog posts I have read over before publishing, while others I have read several times. But I am sure that there are many posts that I have not read upon completing them. All I can say is I'm happy I could help. It means a lot to know that what I write actually gets read. And those who listen know I'm talking about <em>you</em>. Thank you. We owe it to you guys. There's no point in writing if there's no audience. We are glad there are listeners out there.<br />
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So cheers to that fine line of time we have all traveled. One day it's off to Spain, another day it's off to school. But either way, <br />
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"What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make."</div>
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-<span style="font-size: x-small;">Jane Goodall</span></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Sept.3rd.2012</span></strong></div>
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Two years today.</div>
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-mb</div>
Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-40060027246615714172012-09-03T03:14:00.002-05:002012-09-03T12:58:01.608-05:00The Suite LifeAnother long delay, maybe sometime I'll get back into the swing of writing more regularly. I seem to have quite a collection of rough drafts though, it's just that I never seem to find a way to make the post flow or close whatever point I was trying to make or whatnot.<br />
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Not that all of my posts flow or really make much sense but...<br />
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<strike>So last week</strike>, Two and a half weeks ago my dad and I made the hike from Atlanta to New Orleans, where me and a carload of "things I think I need" for college got dropped of at the University of Loyola New Orleans. I didn't put any effort into packing since I was taking full advantage of not having weight or luggage restrictions. If it fit in the car, it was coming.<br />
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The 9 hour hike was a piece of cake. I feel like I have no excuse to complain about anything if I'm in a car... no matter how long we may be sitting on our rear ends memorizing the radio's song play list.<br />
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I finished writing up to there^ before we lost power at my uncle's house, where I was since I had to evacuate my dorm.<br />
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Evacuate....yeah. A word you don't use much in Minnesota.<br />
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The following Tuesday after arriving to New Orleans was when I moved into my dorm. Six trips with two people from the car in the parking garage all the way up to floor nine was something I don't ever want to have to go through again. That nor the cleaning required before you can actually unpack your stuff.<br />
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Gross.<br />
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That week was filled with welcome activities to get to know other students which included a hypnotist, excursion into the city, and an inspirational speaker that was absolutely <em>outstanding</em>.<br />
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It's hard to explain everything that he said, nor is there really a good YouTube video to show you exactly everything the two hour presentation covered.<br />
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Curtis Zimmerman talked about a variety of things targeting his audience- us. An auditorium filled with first year students.<br />
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He started off his presentation introducing himself, a best selling author, juggling, mime, fire eater, magician,... the list continues.<br />
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Immediately he asked us to put our phones and everything else away under our seats. He was going to talk for two hours, and he didn't spend the last day and a half traveling, missing his child's first day of school for nothing. The least we could do was to give him our full attention for these two hours.<br />
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And the same goes with the classroom. Teachers don't spend their entire career preparing themselves to talk to a bunch of students on their phones. Teachers wouldn't be there to teach if they weren't there to share something that they loved talking about.<br />
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But if you choose to stay on your phone, teachers aren't going to <em>make</em> you listen. Teachers aren't going to <em>make</em> you understand.<br />
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Teachers get paid whether you understand the material or not.<br />
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He was here to speak to us. If our friends on the phone were so important, why weren't they here with us?<br />
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The beginning of his speech started off like this..</div>
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Everyone was instructed to stand up. He had us do the following, and I would like you to do the same.</div>
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Hold up your right hand in the air, and make a circle.</div>
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Put it down.</div>
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Hold up your left hand in the air, and make a square.</div>
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Put it down.</div>
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Now, hold up your right hand and make a circle.</div>
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While making the circle, hold up your left hand and make a square.</div>
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Take a look at his video. Pay attention to what he says about the circle, and follow along with his actions.</div>
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Interesting, eh? Yeah we thought so too. He had us do a variety of things.<br />
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How many think you are responsible?<br />
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A show of hands went up.<br />
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Well, that's when we got to play a nice game of Simon Says.<br />
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You should have seen the two kids from the front row that jumped up on stage...Priceless, omg.<br />
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As the video showed, Curtis picked a random student and taught him how to juggle. The student had no idea how to juggle, but was taught in about ten minutes.<br />
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In the process of teaching the student how to juggle, for every time the student dropped a ball we were to cheer and applaud him loudly. Why?<br />
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<em>Because he was that much further to learning how to juggle</em>.<br />
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Starting out with one, then two, three balls were dropped many times, but after much cheering from the students, the student was finally able to juggle all three. Curtis then juggled himself, bouncing the balls off of his knees, chest, elbow, chin, the amazement continued.<br />
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And why was Curtis able to juggle this way? he asked us. Because he had dropped the ball 5,000 more times than we have. Have we given something 5,000 tries?<br />
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Throughout the duration of my blog, I have used a lot of metaphors and abstract examples to try to make a point or get a certain idea across. This was one of the reasons why I enjoyed this presentation so much.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">---Cheer every time you drop the ball, because you are one step closer to reaching your goal. Give those people who make your show worse fewer lines. And even though you look great at doing what you already know, you are learning absolutely nothing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Your teachers get paid whether you understand or not. Everyone in the room is in the 1% of the world to have the opportunities we do. That's right. 99% of the people in the world do not have the same opportunities as the first year students in that auditorium.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Starting off new in college is great. Everything in that circle, everything that we have done in our past is was got us here, in this room. All of those achievements, and grades and awards in high school and hard work got us here where we are now. But now what we are here, we start from zero. We are all starting from the bottom up. Because no one cares about what happened to us as a kid, the neighborhood we grew up in, or the school we went to. None of that matters now. What matters is what we do from here on out.---</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Going on my EuroTrip was such an eye opening experience for so many reasons.</span></div>
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Upon returning home from exchange, many of us exchange students return home to a place where not many other people have gone through the same thing. Granted no two exchange students ever have the same experience, it is very difficult to return home to an environment where you finish up a conversation in a different language, and everyone looks at you as though they've seen a ghost.</div>
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Visiting my friends goes way back to that post I wrote on reality. The "the grass is greener on the other side" post. Being able to travel our not so small world really proved that nothing is impossible. It's not impossible to go back and see your friends. It's not impossible to pick up right where you left off with your friendships. It's just different. Your life how it was at whatever point in time will never duplicate itself. My AFS friendships aren't any worse just because people live far away. Ties weaken, sure. My trip proved that point to me. The value, however, stays the same if it is well preserved.</div>
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What a small world we live in, it was strange to bounce from one friend's house to an other's as if I was just walking down the street on a normal day. I didn't go to Europe as a tourist. In fact, the only time I felt like a tourist was in Hamburg, Germany, which brings me to my second point...</div>
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Seeing friends of people I hadn't seen in years was great. It's always another reminder of how times flys, and how every "good bye" makes the next "hello" closer. I was able to meet the neighborhood, culture, and families of the friends that I got to know under America's terms.</div>
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Hamburg, however, was quite different than any other stop on the map. This was simply because Hamburg was the only place I did NOT spend my time at a friend's house. I stayed in a youth hostel for two nights.</div>
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Turns out I have two connections in Hamburg. One from AFS US of A and one from Spain. Unfortunately it didn't work out to meet up with either of them, so I was on my own.</div>
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Was Hamburg great or what.</div>
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Not only did I have 4 amazing roommates from England, I met all sorts of different people doing the <em><strong>exact same thing.</strong></em></div>
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I don't think I met a single German in Hamburg. Everyone was from a different country outside of Germany, passing by on a EuroTour. There were so many things to talk about. How was Berlin? Where are you going next? Oh you have to go see this church in Copenhagen! Yeah it was really crowded in Milan during the soccer game. Are you going to Poland? It must have been a crazy train ride from London! How many hours does it take to get to Amsterdam? How long are you traveling for? Where are you attending school? How many languages do you speak? Oh, you're from Canada? WE ARE NEIGHBORS!!!</div>
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....the list goes on, and on, and on, and on.</div>
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Another thing I realized during my trip is that, there's a time for everything. My exchange year was not my time to travel, but this trip was. My exchange year was not the time to get too hung up over my school work, but now it is. My EuroTrip was not the time to go to the blind museum, or the Anne Frank house, (yes, this one kills me I must say) but there will be another time. There will be another time to travel Eastern Europe, to see Auschwitz, to eat the mussels in Brussels, to go to Paris, or Rome, but instead I have to just know that my time spent in Europe was to do exactly what I did. No more, no less. It's always good to have a reason to go back. If it wasn't completed during my two month stay, it wasn't the time.</div>
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I really wish I could have realized that better during my exchange year.</div>
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Towards the end of my year in Spain, so much effort was put into thinking about "what I had done, and what I had failed to do." I look back at my year now knowing that, if it wasn't done during the year, it wasn't the time. You can't look back and say you should have done this or that, because the reality is that if it <em>was</em> the time to do this, or that... it would have been done.</div>
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My primary focus of my trip was to spend time with the people I was visiting. Remember the names of monuments, the history behind a bridge, and seeing things that the rest of the world marvels at were just bonuses. I didn't go to France to see the Eiffel Tower. I went to France to see the people who have impacted my life. And the last time I checked, I do not have a personal friendship with the Eiffel Tower. (nor the cost to get me there)</div>
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To be more realistic on the subject, I too want to do everything. Take advantage of any given moment. Jump at every opportunity available. Live life to the fullest. But in the end, if all effort was put forth and you only finished 4/7 items on the list, (and the 4 were done well) than that's all that was meant to happen at the time.</div>
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Not that we should let things slide by us, because that is definitely not what I meant.<br />
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Most of the friends of my friends that I visited in Europe (if that makes any sense) spoke English, most of which went on exchange either through AFS or another program. And if they didn't go on exchange, they had either traveled a lot or had quite a cultural background.</div>
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Meeting so many people who 'went on exchange' really helped me to get closure on the whole thing. Exchange was something we all had in common, but something of the past. It wasn't something we were trying to figure out, or waiting for, but instead something that made up part of our life resume. An event that was completed, a event that didn't need explaining, but yet, it automatically connected us all in this type of world that's hard to explain to anyone who's not in it.<br />
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So, what now? Well classes 'resume' on Tuesday, even though they never really started. My evacuation plan never included more than 'take the stairs,' but I guess that in other parts of the world such as here, there are other ideas of a plan. Going 68 hours without electricity, internet, (no, I am not the fortunate owner of a smartphone) or a single battery operated fan in the <strong><u><em>INCREDIBLY HUMID</em></u></strong> south I thought would kill me for sure.<br />
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I felt quite like Anne Frank, being locked up in a house, listening to the sounds of other's generators sounding through the night. The city curfew was from 8PM to 7AM, which put a psycological twist on things. Illegal to leave your house? For that long? I'd never experienced anything of the sort. Being arrested was never before a threat to disobeying curfew.<br />
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Our windows were open once the storm passed, in any hope of a breeze of any sort to get some air circulation in the house. We didn't know when we would get power back, and as of almost a week later it is not restored.<br />
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My makeup melted, along with my book. Who knew a book could melt in a house? The two inch thich pieces of tree started to curl up and get moist in no time at all. The house got dark starting as early as 7PM, when the sun began to set. We had two lanterns/flashlights that were our only source of light until we went to bed.<br />
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Friday we went to the store, and the first two places we went to were completely out of ice. It was unbelieveable. Walgreens was completely out of drinking water. Wiped clean. And the third store had ice...after you waited in line behind about 40 people. Even then it was only two bags per customer.<br />
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Campus halleluyah was up and running by mid Friday, with air conditioning and internet. I moved back in, and turned on the TV for the first time since Tuesday afternoon, a day before Hurricane Isaac came.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Back at Loyola, which may be the only place back on it's feet after Isaac. 4.5 days of university canceled and a very long 68 hours without power--(AC, fridge/freezer, garage door, lights, TV, radio, phone, computer)-- internet, or a single battery operated fan in the very humid jungle of New Orleans. At one point someone informed me that we were among another half million people who also lost power, which was almost comforting to remind myself that we weren't the only ones. However, upon hours of sitting in darkness with two flashlights, it hits you..... there are a lot more than half a million people in this world without power."</span></blockquote>
</span> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">--Facebook status from Friday</span>
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Friday morning alone there were 38 car accidents. Let me remind you that electricity is needed in order to run traffic lights. There were a fair number of 4 lane intersections that didn't have working traffic lights.<br />
<br />
This resulted in the...<br />
<br />
"whoever-gets-there-first-goes-first/CRAZYAGRESSIVE European driving" approach.<br />
<br />
People, this is not a rational way to solve problems... <br />
<br />
*Sigh.*<br />
<br />
So that was that.<br />
<br />
You should have seen Whole Foods when their power came back on. People from the bakery to the seafood were cheering. A guy was even standing behind a crate of wine, charging his phone from an unused outlet.<br />
<br />
<br />
Later that day I walked around campus and took some pictures of the damage.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu5OGV9vmvJ7KjtthdPrzz6_Y9BkHfWUBKRoFhljH9u8J4x7ZGTSJJ8eSwcVLTf1M5VGOzdhL6NE3xGPVIo6v9mPFMiAuzqJDE1EQyeaJLdci1ZlGcGrW-OxFtPXjWH1zJZ6XPHI5ldEA/s1600/IMG_9993.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu5OGV9vmvJ7KjtthdPrzz6_Y9BkHfWUBKRoFhljH9u8J4x7ZGTSJJ8eSwcVLTf1M5VGOzdhL6NE3xGPVIo6v9mPFMiAuzqJDE1EQyeaJLdci1ZlGcGrW-OxFtPXjWH1zJZ6XPHI5ldEA/s320/IMG_9993.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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I promise no photoshop or picture editing was used in any of this.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI8aWvriohZsco-JodoQ8ZwYNiG0gEQi5LNP7-Y6dvVGEqSgBJhFpBVynNiudX7f_bXqJ7a8Ha5vIfsfJ0VtVehHRzGzQmz6U_0j-ptbyURJI2zsFz0uTKOXBCszoUqwLAqTblzvG_uYE/s1600/IMG_0015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI8aWvriohZsco-JodoQ8ZwYNiG0gEQi5LNP7-Y6dvVGEqSgBJhFpBVynNiudX7f_bXqJ7a8Ha5vIfsfJ0VtVehHRzGzQmz6U_0j-ptbyURJI2zsFz0uTKOXBCszoUqwLAqTblzvG_uYE/s320/IMG_0015.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Behind the library</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO0sl3N3qsljcJk8WtuqPNSiPFDmmoHYfP1otinhRENORpsYeFxKn4VUN5eJwcgQiYNAncSAtrHnYVE-RI4SZZuB80m5cQKZD3mB0-5u00AqYDoPlTG2CkEDw23IJej8J1uaUXYrtd2T4/s1600/IMG_0093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO0sl3N3qsljcJk8WtuqPNSiPFDmmoHYfP1otinhRENORpsYeFxKn4VUN5eJwcgQiYNAncSAtrHnYVE-RI4SZZuB80m5cQKZD3mB0-5u00AqYDoPlTG2CkEDw23IJej8J1uaUXYrtd2T4/s320/IMG_0093.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On campus at the "Quad"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Like I said, we didn't get much flooding here in uptown, but supposedly other areas did. Areas that didn't flood during Katrina flooded during Isaac. The TV had unbelievable footage sent in from people who video taped what their house looked liked. Since I went the week without TV, my face dropped at the sight of the flooding damage.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNqGQYSRInZcLL0vzzrRXjW8RwpQLxA-nx1KzYTbLuJp6y1GX-8jb93dqrcbEIINNRhz8kpbJYXbMehwiFKo5QuqEPrDYGY1auqByN4U0czJCMVfdb4GL3LU6dKJ4mFqu9sj0dNvKT1FU/s1600/pic1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNqGQYSRInZcLL0vzzrRXjW8RwpQLxA-nx1KzYTbLuJp6y1GX-8jb93dqrcbEIINNRhz8kpbJYXbMehwiFKo5QuqEPrDYGY1auqByN4U0czJCMVfdb4GL3LU6dKJ4mFqu9sj0dNvKT1FU/s320/pic1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
Things here will hopefully continue to normal on Tuesday. It'll be nice to have health services open and the bookstore...so I can do my homework for the classes I haven't even been to yet.<br />
<br />
No special plans for this Labor Day weekend; it's just the suite life, here in Buddig Hall...celebrating a great two year anniversary of meeting possibly the most awesome group of people on the planet.<br />
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Thanks for playing,<br />
-mb<br />
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Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-43922652635556047312012-08-05T23:18:00.000-05:002012-08-05T23:18:03.210-05:00Awkwarddd.<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"It's really funny</span><span style="font-size: small;"> because I do not know where I am going. Like never. This only Spanish thing is intense. Very, very confusing. I just act like I understand so (1). they don't think I'm completely retarded or (2). They keep talking to me and don't loose interest." </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">--Saturday, September 4th, 2010 (Day 1)</span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">EURO TRIP</span></strong><br />
<br />
After Milan, that Monday I went to Graz, Austria to visit an AFSer who was in my town the 2008/2009 school year. But my trip to Graz is a story in itself, so I'll write about that later. Let's detour back to the title of my blog for this note.<br />
<br />
Last night I actually brought myself together to read my journals. Originally, I thought it would be easy to go back and read through them, but one of the biggest surprises about coming home is that it is <em>not</em> easy. No Sir. It is not easy to read through the emotions, events, and life that I lived that year. For a few reasons. One, those who know me personally know that I kept my blog very positive, compared to the realistic experience I had. Yeah, secret is out. Bummer. I didn't have the greatest life that year. I struggled quite a bit, and there are a lot of things I couldn't put on here with AFS monitoring my blog. But they messed up, horribly. AFS Spain did an absolute horrible job with my host family placements. The volunteers there <u>knowso very much</u> and refuse to acknowledge that there was anything wrong with my host family placement. Once I left Madrid, thank the heavens I found some volunteers who were able to agree with me, and give me the piece of mind I was not indeed insane. In a nutshell, as I may have hinted before, my first host family was not informed properly of what AFS is. Instead, after an interest form, the President of AFS Spain came to the apartment, begging for them to take me in, saying "the student could even sleep here in your living room on this couch." I was one of the last two students placed out of 80 some, or atleast out of the 31 Americans. My host family, being the incredible giving people that they are, agreed to host an AFSer, even though it was not the best time for them financially. I'll leave it at that, but you can see in what direction things went from there.<br />
<br />
I'd like to meet the volunteer who searched for my blog with the exact words "AFS Spain is terrible." (yes, it IS possible for me to see the engine search keywords that people use to find my blog.) I never ratted out AFS Spain during my time there and I don't plan on going into details. AFS is an amazing organization and I do not want to steer anyone away from AFS, or going on exchange. <br />
<br />
Some of you may have already known, but I won't elaborate on it more than I feel the need to do in order to explain why I say what I do. I respect what happened that year moreso now after my Euro trip than I did a year ago. There is so much I took from that year that other kids didn't get, and for that, I am thankful.<br />
<br />
Let me note one, final thought. AFS-USA and AFS-SPAIN are almost two entirely different organizations. My host family refused to call them that, but instead, businesses. They even have different regulations and standards, such as- AFS USA requires all American host families to have criminal background checks. AFS-Spain does not. It's based off of country regulations and fun. AFS-USA has been awesome, and I would like to give an extended thank you to everyone who helped me during the year- you guys were great, really, and you all know who you are.<br />
<br />
<br />
Reading through my journals has been a bit easier after some time, I've come to accept different things and look back at the wonderful time I had during my year abroad. The most amazing thing for me, is how much I have grown since the start of my year there, nearly two years ago. A big part of why it is so easy for me to read back through the journals now compared to a year ago- is because my exchange year is something of the past. It is not something I "will be" or "am currently" doing, nor something I "just got back from." After a while the whole thing wears you out a bit, and it's nice to get some closure. I'll elaborate that later on in my stories about my EuroTrip.<br />
<br />
Last night I read through most of what I wrote during my first week on exchange. I thought I would share some funny stories and quotes from what I found. Writing down everything is the best way I can "go back" to that life. It's really amazing how much you gain when you write things down.<br />
<br />
<br />
Now for the fun. Those of you who can relate can laugh with me.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>Monday, January 25th, 2010</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"My trip to Spain starts with getting accepted. Today I got an email from AFS saying that I was accepted into AFS-USA, and it will be another 4-6 weeks before I know if AFS-Spain has accepted me. I am very excited to hear back from them- if Spain does not accept me I am not sure where I will pick next. I want to learn Spanish but do not want to leave Europe. Earlier this month I received a $600 merit and $200 host family scholarship. I hope to hear from AFS-Spain soon. PS: Semester 2 starts tomorrow and I start Spanish 3."</span><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">MAY 15th, 2010 <span style="font-size: small;">1:47 AM</span></span></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"So much to say in so little time. The only update on Spain is nothing. I still don't have a host family or location yet. I hope I find out before the end of June. I met a guy from Spain at Annika's surprise birthday party, but he didn't say much. (Besides the fact I'll be screwed if I get put in the Barcelona area because of the Catalan dialect, and I'll probably be put in a small town. I hope not. Today was my first golf clinic of the year, and I hope if I enjoy it I can do it in Spain."</span><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: large;">Saturday, June 19th, 2010 <span style="font-size: small;">4:29 PM</span></span></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"Yesterday we got a confirmation from Dharma with AFS 'after extensive research' that an AFS representative can drop off and pick up the visa information at the Consulate of Spain in Chicago, and no FBI criminal background check is needed, the local one will be fine."</span><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: large;">Monday, June 28th, 2010</span></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"A few days ago I got the paper from AFS that tells me when I leave. According to the current report I can bring 44 pounds in a suitcase and a carry on that is 22 pounds. I leave Minnesota for New York and arrive there anytime between 12:00 and 4:00PM. The next day I leave NYC to Zurich, Switzerland and arrive there around 10:55AM. 1.5 hours later I then fly to Madrid and arrive there on September 3rd."</span><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: large;">Tuesday, July 13th, 2010</span></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"So, I have set up a blog. Hopefully AFS will put it on their website like they said they would. Oh, and I've met a girl, Phoebe Ziegler, through Facebook who will be on my plane to Spain. (hah, that rhymes) if AFS gets my visa in time! **** It's the 13th already! Our appt. was for yesterday if we did it by ourselves...what the heck is AFS wasting their time on?! I CAN'T leave late!"<br /><br />"September can <u>NOT</u> come soon enough. I swear."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"Oh, SPAIN WON THE WORLD CUP! Which is totally awesome, and I'm super excited."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"Oh, and a brief Spanish placement test put me at the bottom. Pffff. I've gotta long way to go."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"Still no word from AFS...no host fam. yet but not knowing is better than thinking you have a bad one I guess. Got word on a country conference call July 26th which should be good."</span><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: large;">Monday, August 9th, 2010</span></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"Holy buckets I haven't written in here for a while...but I have been keeping my blog updated so I guess that's O.K. I'll start from current and work backwards. I HAVE HOST SIBLINGS! FOUR! O.M.G. that is amazing! I am very excited for the news."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"I cannot express in words or emotions how excited I am to go to Spain. Oh yeah, did I mention? I'm in Madrid! YES!!!!! Population 3 Million and I'm in the middle of it! And according to some website online the average low winter temp. is 38*F! 38*! Incredible! There is no way in the world I can complain about that! :)"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"I am so excited to go! I wonder how these next few weeks will go by..."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"...everything is so much more real now that I have my host family."</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: large;">Wednesday, August 11th, 2010 <span style="font-size: small;">12:56AM</span></span></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"WOW! And the day has come! Yesterday, the 10th I finally received my full host family from AFS. YAY! Complete relief...I have been waiting for this day FOREVER...!!!"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"Google map. Street view. Gotta love it. I hope they put me in the right grade (1st bachillerato or something like that)."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"And I have to remind myself that the grass always looks greener on the other side. So love every minute of Spain =) My hand can't go anymore...So best of luck to my unknown future, whatever it brings...ciao, ciao"</span><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: large;">Tuesday, August 31st, 2010</span></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"I have to write quick but here it is. My last day. There was a point I thought it would never come. But I'm packed. And completely ready to start my new adventure."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">[Marshall High School Visitor Pass pasted on page]</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Courier New;">--------ARRIVAL TO SPAIN-------</span></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Culture shock: </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">the personal disorientation a person may feel when experiencing an unfamiliar way of life due to immigration or a visit to a new country, or to a move between social environments. <span style="font-size: x-small;">-wikipedia</span></span><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: large;">Saturday, Sept. 4th 2010</span></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Day 1</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"Wow. I am officially at my new home."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">[about meeting host family and orientation]</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"I was scared to meet them. Very scared. Thank God the kids weren't there. I met my liason today, here they call it a "tutor." Pablo is very nice and thank the Lord he speaks English. Thank the Lord. Us kids played like cards <u>forever</u>. And the cup game thing."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"Orientation was good to meet other kids but at a terrible location. We met our host families by walking through the door to the theatre."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"They drive crazy here. The van is huge and ugly no offense. I have no internet in my room, which sucks. The buildings here are ugly, and it is like the Sahara Desert. No grass. None. And there are olive trees everywhere outside town. Atleast I think they are olive trees. The apartment is small. Tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny. But I guess that is fine. I have no hangers so I suppose I just fold my clothes."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"I accidently fell asleep and woke up, being shocked when I realized I spoke English to the 3 oldest when I tried to give them their welcome gifts. I just forgot to speak Spanish. It's just really weird. And when I called home I almost said Spanish words. It's so weird because I'm starting to think in Spanish. Not completely but like a little bit. Uh, what else. The door thing, yeah I think I have to keep my door open unless I'm sleeping or changing. The light switched are weird. Like big buttons. I hope everyone stays patient with my Spanish- it's seriously not very good. First mistaken word was "regalo" for "regla"- "gift" for "ruler" and I thought that was funny. We walked like 3 miles to a McDonalds for wifi and I called home. I have a feeling here I won't be using my computer much. The bathrooms are strange. I have no clue what the tiny sink is that is really small. And the shower like at the camp is one that has a hose thing. My brain cannot think with so much going on. There are no screens on the windows (are left open) but I haven't really seen bugs besides 1 in the bathroom so that might be ok. It's like a desert here. It's so weird. The metro is clean though. And convenient. The toilet flushes weird. The blinds are wicked awesome. I don't know how I'll sleep tonight- there's a lot of honking outside. You can't see the stars here is what my host sister Maria told me. No one here speaks English."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"I need to get a clock. I don't know what time it is."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">[let me note that I did not have a cell phone at that time, nor a computer charger, since I didn't have the right cord.]</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"Oh yeah and the toilets? are weird. Barely any water in them. And eating a small dinner will be very interesting as I am not very hungry during lunch at 2 like today. It's pretty hot here. And the pillows are long and strange. Maybe that's just because it is a twin bed. We wear shoes in the house, yes. But I wouldn't want to take them off. The floor is wood and I think a bit dirty. School starts like the 17th-ish and we are going to Segovia sometime before then! Awesome! Elizabeth from the United States I believe lives there. I think it'll be good."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"Whoo. first time since last Sunday really That I can actually sleep. I think I will like it here after some adjustments and the bathroom thing."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"My journey has started and it is amazing. Too many thoughts to even think about. I hope my allergies aren't bad as well, as I sit here with the window open."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"So after all the Spanish tests and miles on a plane I am here. I am here and am starting to live a new life."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"Diego put subsitles on the TV which is super helpful. Like I can't understand TV without them. And the google here is ".es" strangeeeeee~~~. And hopefully they don't get too tired of talking slow. But I can't seem to tune them out because I understand enough to get the "jist," and they frequently ask me questions so I have to pay attention."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"Day One. Incredible. Time flys. Seriously."</span><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: large;">September 5th, 2010</span></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Day 2</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">"I am alarmed at the fact that I don't think we have a dishwasher. And that is is too expensive to run the dryer. Except in the winter...I think I won't be washing my clothes much, but again I don't know. They have really small glasses, and normal ones. And I don't know where they get the water- it's always in this cooler-like thing. And today there was lemonade for a change. The milk is terrible. The cereal was disgusting haha but whatever. The lights [switches] here (atleast in the apartment) are weird and are square shaped. I think it would be possible for someone to break in since we always have our windows open and live on the first floor.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">***that last statement is ridiculous, because we were technically on floor 2 inside a locked fence that surrounded the building.***</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Amaya and I went to have a "picnic" and so I asked if it was far and if sandals were a good idea. well, I got the impression that the park was literally right around the corner because the mom said it was very close. Well, we caught the metro and met someone named Ana, and yeah, well, she talks very fast. And we switched trains atleast like 4 times and once even missed our stop. It's amazing because we never had to wait really long for a train. And I think I'll buy a monthly pass for the metro because I have a feeling we use that a lot here."</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>"The elevator in the apartment</strong><span style="font-size: small;"><strong> </strong>is awkwardly tiny. The door handle is awkwardly in the middle of the door. And I awkwardly met some of Maria's friends when I was in my pajamas. And yeah, awkward might be the word of the day."</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">-<span style="font-size: large;">mb</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-71576761500358923952012-07-12T10:41:00.000-05:002012-07-12T10:41:43.272-05:00Nos VamosIt's been awhile. I can explain.<br />
<br />
The last time I wrote a blog post I was sitting at a table in Milan, in a bit of shock that I was finally back in the great EU. Since then a lot has happened, and I feel no need to justify why I haven't posted any updates. <br />
<br />
I've been on the go, like you wouldn't believe.<br />
<br />
Looks like I left off right before I saw much of Milan. I'll go back through again and post story by story of all by day trips, but for the moment here's a brief overview.<br />
<br />
After the weekend in Aosta I spent the week in Milan, and left on the following Monday for Graz, Austria. Mario and I saw most of the touristy sights in a day or two. <br />
<br />
The Friday before I left the Pope came to Milan, which was too cliche for my brain to handle. We went into il Duomo's piazza and upon stepping off the trolley we saw the signs promoting the Pope coming to Milan for "World Meeting of Families." There was a poster on il Duomo for atleast a week before, but we just kind of missed it somehow. <br />
<br />
I thought that Milan was a typical place for the pope to visit- but it turns out it was the first time in 28 years that a pope had visited Milan. That came to me as a bit of a surprise, but I guess when all things are considered, it's pretty expensive with all the security and everything in between.<br />
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Here's a link to an article with more information: <a href="http://www.france24.com/en/20120601-pope-arrives-milan-world-families-meet" target="_blank">Pope Visits Milan</a><br />
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So that was really cool. Something to check off my bucket list in life. We got really close too, which required waiting on the rail for close to an hour in the dreadful heat, but it was definitely worth it.<br />
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Pope Benedetto passed us in his popemobile, surrounded what I would like to call the pope's "Secret Service." They were everywhere, and frequently got in the way of my pictures...<br />
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Sigh. Atleast I got a few good ones.<br />
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Also, I was kind of surprised but it was really cool- there were a few babies that were passed in from the crowd and blessed by the pope. <br />
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Milan was packed with people cheering for the pope when he came around. They had a few big screens filming the pope's journey from the Linate Airport down the streets to il Duomo. I was pretty surprised how much everyone was cheering so much- Milan obviously wanted to prove they were happy for a pope to visit, which was cool to see.<br />
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Sunday I went to Lake Como, which is really close to Switzerland. Mario's brother's girlfriend Anna took me there for the day and it was really nice. Como is a beautiful city, and although it rained we still had a good time and were able to see everything we wanted to see.<br />
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Upon returning to Milan I met Sergio, who I hadn't seen since 2009. He was an exchange student in a town in our AFS Chapter in the states, so it was nice to see him again and walk around the city for a few hours. He doesn't live in Milan, so I was more or less of a tour guide haha<br />
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That evening Mario and I caught up with some of his friends for ice cream-- they had been studying for exams all day, which end on July 16th. The difference between the two different systems is unbelievable...complely different, and sometime I wonder about how our level of education compares to theirs...<br />
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So that is more or less of catch up from the first two weeks. I'll send more updates soon-- as of right now I'm back in the states in Boston visiting Caroline and I've gotta run...but there's much more to come.<br />
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Arrivederci amiciii<br />
-mb<br />
<br />Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-50945739801777503002012-05-30T12:30:00.001-05:002012-05-30T12:30:21.067-05:00La Prima SettimanaBeing back has been <em><strong>awesome</strong></em>.<br />
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Returning back to the great ol' EU has been fantastic. When I left Spain there were so many unanswered questions, doubts, and thoughts that I have been able to clear up since I've been here. <br />
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My first stop here is Milan, where I am visiting Mario, the student my family hosted 2009-2010. He's still in university here at Bocconi, so I haven't seen the entire city yet. But what I have seen, is really nice.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mario and I infront of il Duomo</td></tr>
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Yesterday, there was an earthquake. The current death count according to this BBC article is 16, with atleast seven people missing and 14,000 homeless. Here is a link to an article: <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-18247659" target="_blank">BBC Earthquake in Italy</a><br />
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The first earthquake hit sometime in the morning. I was sitting next to another girl in a lecture class and we both thought the two guys behind us were shaking our bench (the seats are long benches, not individual desks). I just kind of ignored it at first, thinking they were trying to get our attention, but as it kept going I thought it was weird at 'how flexible the benches were.' The projector was shaking a bit, and when it finished the teacher asked- "earthquake?" It wasn't until everyone looked at each other to realize we all felt the same thing. The second earthquake struck when we were at lunch, but none of the people I went to lunch with felt it. <br />
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So that was yesterday. This past weekend I traveled about 2.5 hours in bus to a small town called Aosta to visit Nicholas. He was in our AFS chapter when I was in Spain- and I met him at the arrival orientation that was in August. He stayed with my family a few times while I was in Spain, and invited me to come up and see a different part of Italy for the weekend. <br />
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Aosta is a small town, about 40,000 I believe, or says my iPod. It's in the Swiss Alps, about 30 minutes from France and 45 from Switzerland. It's a pretty town, filled with Roman Ruins and the beautiful scenery of the mountains. It was definitely very different than Milan, but really interesting to see.<br />
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The town is very old, filled with ancient artifacts and surrounded by a whole line of castles. I was told that the castles were able to communicate by fire to send messages from one to another- that's how close they were to each other. <br />
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Saturday I saw the town, and Sunday we headed out by car and went through the mountains. We also visited il castello di Fenis, which are included in the pictures below.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some festival going on right next to the ruins- <br />
everyone was dressed up in some type of traditional costume.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The main square in Aosta.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful, no? I was later informed that it is a common place<br />
for the ederly to commit suicide. :(</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for the tour at the castle of Fenis.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nick and I.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Castello di Fenis</td></tr>
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We drove down the side of the mountain for maybe an hour or so? And we went all the way down to the end of the road. Along the way we passed some type of animals- I don't know the name of them in English, but it was kind of cool to see them. The longer the horns are the older they are- it's like a tree. The rings represent one year. There were also people there who hiked up the mountain and skied down. The trails ranged from about 1-3 hours. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First national park in Italy- opened in 1922.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The animals seen throughout the mountains in the background.</td></tr>
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We also passed by and took pictures of Monte Bianco (the highest point in Alps, Western Europe and the EU)- which we could see from a distance. You have to look closely in pictures even though it was bright and clear when we were there.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monte Bianco</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another Castle</td></tr>
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So that was this past weekend. I don't have many pictures from Milan soon, but I'll get some posted next week or so.<br />
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Italy is great. I haven't had that big of a communication problem since I can understand a great deal of Italian. I can understand a lot of what is said, how much depends on the topic. Things such as directions are about the same as Italian.<br />
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Being here in a country with a different language reminds me of my first few weeks of exchange. Although it's weird, because I understand more Italian in my first week here than I did Spanish my first week in Spain. I am amazed at how much Italian I've learned in only a week. It definitely comes a lot easier since I already know Spanish. There's an art to listening to a foreign language- the rythm, breaks, expressions, it's almost like you have to learn what is going to be said next. But it's been fun nonetheless. It's nice to be learning a culture for the first time again.<br />
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I'll touch breifly on the differences between Italy and Spain. Not much. I have found the people here to be less "on edge" and more welcoming. Everyone I've met has been over the top nice. People in stores aren't overpersonal like Americans, but aren't rude either. The stereotypical ice cream and pizza and pasta here is just like the say- the best of the world. Milan has a smaller metro than Madrid, but they have trams and trolleys above the ground. People here dress nicer- you see that the money is directed towards designer clothes, cars, etc. Things are a bit greener in Milan than Madrid (granted it's further north), but overall the two cities are pretty similar. I'll catch up on this later when I discover more.<br />
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For now, that's about all. <br />
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hasta pronto, amiciii<br />
-mb<br />
<br />Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-70856654448626510782012-05-24T12:56:00.000-05:002012-05-24T12:56:42.274-05:00Adios, Estados UnidosHello! Hallo Hola and Ciaoo...it has been a few months since I've written my last post...and that is the first time I have actually been able to admit that. Since starting this blog I've written atleast once a month, and the past few months have been pretty eventful.<br />
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Skipping everything in the lost time, I am happy to say that I am back in Europe for the summer. Tuesday I arrived in Milan, where I will be visiting Mario and other friends in the area. The top of June I'll head in train to Graz to see Alina, and after a week or so I'll travel and bounce around from place to place in Germany. My schedule after that is not exactly planned yet since I have so many options on what I can do. It's amazing how knowing so many people internationally opens up so many opportunities to travel. Everyone I'll be seeing is part of AFS somehow or another. My journey will end about the middle of July.<br />
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I've debated on whether I should move this whole summer trip to a different blog, but I do not know how often I'll be able to write, so I think I'll just leave it here. I might rename it however, as Spain is no longer the base of everything from here on out. <br />
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In August I will be starting school at the University of Loyola New Orleans, studying International Business and Communications. I'm excited to be at a new location- even though I plan to study abroad the following year.<br />
<br />
Back to the present...so far my time here in Milan has been amazing. I've met a lot of great people and things have been going really well. I flew to JFK from Minneapolis, had an all day layover in NYC, another layover in London, and finally flew into Milan. <br />
<br />
This is the first time to return back to the EU since I left Spain last July. I wasn't even to London when I realized how excited I was to be back. I've worked hard to put everything together and I'm super excited to be here. I wouldn't be surprised if I moved to Europe in the future- it's great here.<br />
<br />
It's hard to explain, but coming back is a great reminder of my "other life." People talk about how the "American" and "exchange" lives aren't the same, and that's true. Public transportation, crossing streets, food, money, it's all different, but great. Milan reminds me of Madrid a lot, all but a few minor changes such as the language or canals, but overall I feel back at my European "home." <br />
<br />
I'll keep track of everyone I meet along the way. Before I left, an AFSer who was in my town 3 years ago came back to visit- so it was really cool to see him again. My rough estimate is that I'll see 15 friends in the next two months.<br />
<br />
Traveling by train, I have a four country Eurorail pass for Italy, Austria, Germany, and Belgium-Netherlands-Luxembourg. It'll be a few long days of travel but I think it'll be worth it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__nrYJ3uWw37Q7NKfIuiuZprY2tW6tdIgearmvU1BBpkhoiWKa_84S9FERb_4CrQWBviG9ihmTriwyfyDtHjNpm-AvwuBZ2_BU9pz5zVgn9etOAuFkg4MB1xXldINz3DeXk8GhTl2YeI/s1600/IMG_5620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__nrYJ3uWw37Q7NKfIuiuZprY2tW6tdIgearmvU1BBpkhoiWKa_84S9FERb_4CrQWBviG9ihmTriwyfyDtHjNpm-AvwuBZ2_BU9pz5zVgn9etOAuFkg4MB1xXldINz3DeXk8GhTl2YeI/s320/IMG_5620.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
A dopo<br />
-mbMary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-16626898901381644282012-03-22T01:19:00.001-05:002012-03-22T01:20:39.641-05:00the return...otra vez.The following is a link to an article written by Jacob Spetzler, who spent his year in the Basque Country. In this he writes about his feelings upon returning to the states, followed by some afterthoughts months later.<br />
<br />
He nailed it. <br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://jacobspetzler.tumblr.com/post/12693840150/i-wrote-this-two-weeks-after-i-returned-from#notes-container">Saturday, November 12th, 2011</a><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC8HaSwMNt0oejd30dntCg0q-gOYgrcEGsM-urYvpFRkc-9RUuaZ0ZKBpGrhz41LywRPmEQxlR_HWIIk7-3QoM4TB68t2_8f6wggS-OPBvvopEt3aRP3WYE-i21LpjTGSDi247grx_Hlg/s1600/spetz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC8HaSwMNt0oejd30dntCg0q-gOYgrcEGsM-urYvpFRkc-9RUuaZ0ZKBpGrhz41LywRPmEQxlR_HWIIk7-3QoM4TB68t2_8f6wggS-OPBvvopEt3aRP3WYE-i21LpjTGSDi247grx_Hlg/s320/spetz.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credited to Jacob</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
One of the best blog posts I´ve ever read in my life.<br />
<br />
Enjoy,<br />
<br />
-mb<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-80501929943541843362012-02-14T00:05:00.001-06:002012-02-16T23:18:33.505-06:00You Know You´re an AFSer When...<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(Confessions of an AFSer...host sibling, returnee, & volunteer)</span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZqRDkI5x1r_cqpAFomSZ779dFlQ4cQFfNz1JeaHkh47Nwaf67qLdFlUA1vbXJavdgIcPhkooPWvszDQCzxnXRINHcr4AdE_Xpzrdb8YKuKf1TVhfrK4_NHtg0AsLQMeanELuBoHohyE/s1600/IMG_0332.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZqRDkI5x1r_cqpAFomSZ779dFlQ4cQFfNz1JeaHkh47Nwaf67qLdFlUA1vbXJavdgIcPhkooPWvszDQCzxnXRINHcr4AdE_Xpzrdb8YKuKf1TVhfrK4_NHtg0AsLQMeanELuBoHohyE/s320/IMG_0332.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Belgium-France-Finland-USA</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span>1. You have more AFS events planned on your calendar than any other type of social activity.<br />
2. You talk to someone from a different country atleast three times a day.<br />
3. More than 40% of your friends on Facebook aren´t from your home country.<br />
4. Your family has hosted on multiple occasions.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4FKtK_XNq-T1GppcUsNChC8qpDS6l_SMQiFLUVra21D9oHi9rVxkYpkvtdOnjswSBT4wLAT3iGnxnWpD8V5CIzyYJVopQEmwlmFN7FNdoVBoiyeQHNmMW4o3noG5eGwbVzt8ofXtYcU/s1600/IMG_0393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4FKtK_XNq-T1GppcUsNChC8qpDS6l_SMQiFLUVra21D9oHi9rVxkYpkvtdOnjswSBT4wLAT3iGnxnWpD8V5CIzyYJVopQEmwlmFN7FNdoVBoiyeQHNmMW4o3noG5eGwbVzt8ofXtYcU/s320/IMG_0393.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">USA-Holland</td></tr>
</tbody></table>5. (When talking to people from your home country) You forget that the person to whom you are talking to can understand what you are saying, and that there is no need to speak slowly or use simple vocabulary.<br />
6. You know that having an address book would never work because half of your friend´s addresses wouldn´t even fit on the page. And ¨Bangkok¨ is really just the short version.<br />
7. You know how to laugh in several languages online....5555555555555...jajajaja<br />
8. Any given day you check the international news, you call your friend living there to see is the media is legit.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJFS6BeoGXKU3ooC5yOhbvzVDZpIEumlqwSUQOhvoEM17E2_UuS6Ck8WLvqSVFWBk1d7O29dweVVUcC5Z0PZFQrGIK-Gq1wQhmlrkdV_RJsbZZyRTDdC3D6gcHddQBTRYJiA7Hom-bIN4/s1600/171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJFS6BeoGXKU3ooC5yOhbvzVDZpIEumlqwSUQOhvoEM17E2_UuS6Ck8WLvqSVFWBk1d7O29dweVVUcC5Z0PZFQrGIK-Gq1wQhmlrkdV_RJsbZZyRTDdC3D6gcHddQBTRYJiA7Hom-bIN4/s320/171.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Madrid to Zürich</td></tr>
</tbody></table>9. Knowing the current time in New Zealand is as easy as knowing the color shirt you are wearing.<br />
10. You find it difficult to talk to people who have never traveled.<br />
11. You are offended by questions such as, ¨What language do they speak in Iceland?¨ because you know very well, that your friend in Iceland speaks Icelandic.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ0xRETQ1H80H0G_kpqbV9rd3IMzH_cGD5Y1MByP6p77lPdKFbuaUCf7wuKFawTF6gsqUMfMFNeOiwFFEroARIzQ3yUiuBsfezOHcb6Jqgl45PXtIihvxeCdirvpfHRhvmDV1_cinmSmw/s1600/284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ0xRETQ1H80H0G_kpqbV9rd3IMzH_cGD5Y1MByP6p77lPdKFbuaUCf7wuKFawTF6gsqUMfMFNeOiwFFEroARIzQ3yUiuBsfezOHcb6Jqgl45PXtIihvxeCdirvpfHRhvmDV1_cinmSmw/s320/284.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>12. You can say a few phrases in languages such as Turkish, Finnish, Icelandic, German, and Swedish... even if most of them are insults.<br />
13. When meeting people from other countries, your first few words to them go something like...¨Hey! My name is so and so, where are you from in X country? I have a friend who lives in X city...¨<br />
14. You speak a second language and hate how people give you weird looks when you do so on your cell phone.<br />
15. You know what TOEFL is and have even helped people prepare for it.<br />
16. You know how difficult it is for foreign students to get a visa to ¨<em><strong>just</strong></em> come back to the states for college¨.<br />
17. You know where someone is from based on their accent, and if they don´t have an accent, they´re from Scandinavia.<br />
18. You know the drinking age in virtually every country that exists.<br />
19. You can explain, in depth, atleast five foreign school systems other than your own.<br />
20. You cringe when people tell you they are going on vacation to some big tourist trap.<br />
21. You travel to see your friends, not the Eiffel Tower.<br />
22. In your spare time, you never read a book in your own language.<br />
23. Upon returning to your home country, your day is made by laughing con Shrek y burro en español.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkGHndAO-PqxWC7HLaqdEkDR-pAmLYynbWCbZVX4FbVbmST99K2DXkCsTVky-OkDLrbpnyhIS-7NV56Qyci2oJ-raYTG3hr1jbSRZIBH0Bqm1M3TlmA3XOWfm5RcpR07mlH2b9Sby4hj0/s1600/060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkGHndAO-PqxWC7HLaqdEkDR-pAmLYynbWCbZVX4FbVbmST99K2DXkCsTVky-OkDLrbpnyhIS-7NV56Qyci2oJ-raYTG3hr1jbSRZIBH0Bqm1M3TlmA3XOWfm5RcpR07mlH2b9Sby4hj0/s320/060.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">End of stay orientation- AFS SPAIN 2010-11</td></tr>
</tbody></table>24. You know you have a home in different houses all over the world.<br />
25. It´s harder to name a country where you don´t know someone, than where you do.<br />
26. The most recent computer you used did not have an English keyboard.<br />
27. You consider Skype your main telephone.<br />
28. The person at the post office recognizes you and is no longer surprised that you´ll send mail to Seattle, Boston, Austria, Switzerland, Spain, Italy, and Colombia on the same day.<br />
29. About 45% of the music you listen to is in a different language or from a different country.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0jhRUzRzifWjrGDsyVPoPJM0O3yN0lYuaml4JSfqzS9UVkhRSWkcuXfDpR1oqnfB-k4eXRBQYUo-pJmnaR9BWJVmGKBlP9GAZQRSpL-IJm-FAnINkuhBIMlRMnVysaTg4XyhS7O6kJ-U/s1600/072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0jhRUzRzifWjrGDsyVPoPJM0O3yN0lYuaml4JSfqzS9UVkhRSWkcuXfDpR1oqnfB-k4eXRBQYUo-pJmnaR9BWJVmGKBlP9GAZQRSpL-IJm-FAnINkuhBIMlRMnVysaTg4XyhS7O6kJ-U/s320/072.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>30. You know the ¨typical dance¨ of another country.<br />
31. In a normal conversation you have to clarify which family you are talking about...home vs. host.<br />
32. The ¨there are no kangaroos in Austria¨ joke is old school.<br />
33. You know random things such as ¨Angry Birds¨ is a Finnish game, or that ¨Phillips¨ is a Dutch brand and consider it as common sense.<br />
34. You speak to foreign students so often, you begin to speak like them, making the same grammatical mistakes.<br />
35. You feel advanced in sociology class because the information you cover is the same in AFS Orientations.<br />
36. Your closet contains a collection of clothing styles from all over the world.<br />
37. You have a love-hate relationship for airports, as this place will lead you to or take you from you best friends.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKfJbALXHrkUweWNiFp1stBNzmLwfq7wejwqoFbvdGbO5lsD0Oj4EwpXgE2T7c5coE3t3J6tv33kAIGjWw9qO9t8a8Ru7KrobLl5Yxdv70QGeyqT_iOHcU7Ic8cIhOY2FQBobnz7cLlkU/s1600/152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKfJbALXHrkUweWNiFp1stBNzmLwfq7wejwqoFbvdGbO5lsD0Oj4EwpXgE2T7c5coE3t3J6tv33kAIGjWw9qO9t8a8Ru7KrobLl5Yxdv70QGeyqT_iOHcU7Ic8cIhOY2FQBobnz7cLlkU/s320/152.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Homebound- Barajas Airport, Madrid</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
38. Not being able to sing along to a foreign song doesn´t bother you.<br />
39. You get excited when someone understands ¨Danza Kuduro¨.<br />
<strong>40. You consider AFS to be your second nationality, especially when you're on exchange.</strong><br />
41. You have full conversations with yourself in your home country, in your host language.<br />
42. Your Facebook statuses, as well as your friends´, are often written in two different languages.<br />
43. You have friends who have never met each other, but go skiing at the same place year after year.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVWiYJNVZgJoTDDa6iQrkbzacOOVZzOJcC6GJOtojYpxqANHNmd3Ld1fyo2AK0RhRIQKVxG9a4FQ0_fsJwznFQz17tm_YI75LkLh4fQHBQN-lGbTFT_ttul83TF0U34BtHJ_m_cQh9xNI/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVWiYJNVZgJoTDDa6iQrkbzacOOVZzOJcC6GJOtojYpxqANHNmd3Ld1fyo2AK0RhRIQKVxG9a4FQ0_fsJwznFQz17tm_YI75LkLh4fQHBQN-lGbTFT_ttul83TF0U34BtHJ_m_cQh9xNI/s320/012.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>44. Your friend travels from the USA to Austria and meets someone who knows you...and you´ve never been to Austria.<br />
45. A typical birthday gift from a friend is a CD with only Finnish music, or a Thai scarf.<br />
<br />
46. Your real family cooks something from a foreign country on a daily basis.<br />
47. You know that real cheese, bread, beer, or wine is not found in the USA.<br />
48. You know the truth about drugs in Amsterdam, and how the Dutch government keeps them away from tourists.<br />
49. You have to manually enter which language you are typing in when writing in Microsoft Word.<br />
50. When traveling, the hardest decision for you to make is deciding who to visit first.<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">51. You speak to other Americans, in English, and they don´t understand anything you say. Because in reality, you speak AFS.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMyuT1eKcaKCVO7XEzpOjRR-QveiFXcTFAI_ldZRjzSVRJq_H82XkgSlBGOH9Y6QJ4idjCjPazMKocNYjGNSzpY9L2NLd8S3K_UkbRLYWaWIXY8p82yVWAnHEzXBtKs99pE2rP_bRj3jk/s1600/345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMyuT1eKcaKCVO7XEzpOjRR-QveiFXcTFAI_ldZRjzSVRJq_H82XkgSlBGOH9Y6QJ4idjCjPazMKocNYjGNSzpY9L2NLd8S3K_UkbRLYWaWIXY8p82yVWAnHEzXBtKs99pE2rP_bRj3jk/s320/345.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Midstay Orientation</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
'ta pronto<br />
-mbMary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-47617492676744199292012-02-01T00:39:00.000-06:002012-02-01T00:39:05.219-06:00(no asunto)<div style="text-align: center;">When I get bored, I frequently have conversations with myself in Spanish. Full conversations, too. Like a story. Multiple characters, the whole shabang. I´ve even dreamed in Spanish after being back, seven months later. When reading subtitles on the TV at the YMCA, I´ve even pronounced English words like Spanish words in my head. Or have mistaken it for Spanish when it´s really English. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But it´s nice to know I´m not the only one.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXYIC2QrXCIoXW73AU07lM7Oljr5pjoMXSqnGhGI1MMLT-VwvxhWoELlhyFuojqr5sEqly_vmBRENcvt2TkVMyIL0scEQsaNavFEg_eolRKG5hcE6ncd8GqUF70cxK2uKJmPQ5m8MRJBE/s1600/facebook1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXYIC2QrXCIoXW73AU07lM7Oljr5pjoMXSqnGhGI1MMLT-VwvxhWoELlhyFuojqr5sEqly_vmBRENcvt2TkVMyIL0scEQsaNavFEg_eolRKG5hcE6ncd8GqUF70cxK2uKJmPQ5m8MRJBE/s400/facebook1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuL2JjyRSbSzRWWC75IovKCM7zjfEGyfwYFIKoYDKUfRGBktxkybrpyixHQMgxH9hUiBAVlwLZSmHcswkYUQmPEWd5QzFf-xEvL_NT-vsfHpiBE_r0TQvuXkCVX_5T6-A7Qo692Zw8rY/s1600/facebook2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuL2JjyRSbSzRWWC75IovKCM7zjfEGyfwYFIKoYDKUfRGBktxkybrpyixHQMgxH9hUiBAVlwLZSmHcswkYUQmPEWd5QzFf-xEvL_NT-vsfHpiBE_r0TQvuXkCVX_5T6-A7Qo692Zw8rY/s400/facebook2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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Even Facebook has gone crazy.<br />
<br />
-mb<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-4951830345442730272012-01-18T16:18:00.000-06:002012-01-18T16:18:44.546-06:00Introduction Video<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">For my LIT170 class at the local college we had to do an introduction video of ourselves and put it onYouTube. I figured I could put it up on here as well considering many of the pictures were taken in Spain.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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Where to next?<br />
-mbMary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-57601024448815255532012-01-10T00:45:00.001-06:002012-01-10T00:50:30.752-06:00Bored on a Saturday AfternoonThe following are pictures were taken on a typical Saturday in May. Little did I know a bit of boredom and creativity would lead to some of the prettiest pictures I've ever taken in my life. These pictures are of downtown Alicante, about two miles from my bungalow. The weather was average, neither too hot or too cold. <br />
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In less than two hours I saw a live television broadcast, five wedding couples, three of which were in a photo shoot, two or three non-related photo shoots, a group of tourists needing English to Spanish translation help, old fashioned cars, and the everyday normal things, such as Spaniards reading books by the dock, leaving from work, and more. The pictures were taken around 5-7PM and turned out to show the real beauty of Alicante. It's hard to believe such a small country has so much diversity.<br />
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Click on the pictures for a slideshow view.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXn8dwHZubaMn76QH81VjRrtk0g8QVuRip5miiZvLYHGPniYanLRomPLmHfP4L2GX2tkv8q85x2AckbyeTru8N_Ee03-ljXZbyt5ONwPXPZUJ7CMWGnyd-ZwUDHEoYVjphiPuehqDksUg/s1600/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXn8dwHZubaMn76QH81VjRrtk0g8QVuRip5miiZvLYHGPniYanLRomPLmHfP4L2GX2tkv8q85x2AckbyeTru8N_Ee03-ljXZbyt5ONwPXPZUJ7CMWGnyd-ZwUDHEoYVjphiPuehqDksUg/s320/006.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Downtown Plaza- notice the castle between the two buildings.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQmvKlEnx-3NEaAD5TBaHVjPVSmsd4CLFRVNR13m6Io8wsNeu0ChKSvvnqCJzBfYpQB9JF83LijIlOfrBpzPUT49EVB8pFXWcCJNGCuzs3tuKqg9oKpTt3cBihBq8C66dJx-evxM-CTXc/s1600/010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQmvKlEnx-3NEaAD5TBaHVjPVSmsd4CLFRVNR13m6Io8wsNeu0ChKSvvnqCJzBfYpQB9JF83LijIlOfrBpzPUT49EVB8pFXWcCJNGCuzs3tuKqg9oKpTt3cBihBq8C66dJx-evxM-CTXc/s320/010.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Live TV Broadcast</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsj3USNBWEdEXf2xkUszpHmk4H0E-Ahw9fLJoJOVByCIVflypp_Y7sn1762UywDf_tfuSTuIvNKGGM8L9VzRuaYHyt_qzWrUijLB_6j8NY0bvS8ApJcY-dFNq6dKs5P1D8oxjshxKjFv8/s1600/019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsj3USNBWEdEXf2xkUszpHmk4H0E-Ahw9fLJoJOVByCIVflypp_Y7sn1762UywDf_tfuSTuIvNKGGM8L9VzRuaYHyt_qzWrUijLB_6j8NY0bvS8ApJcY-dFNq6dKs5P1D8oxjshxKjFv8/s320/019.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wedding downtown. I think that's the prettiest dress I've seen in my life..<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhZQhd3VU9a7xU-WDVvtPUnvLFhyypsQY6CpGws9_sljj0hqTswJHh5NBEH1-t11G_HcSiI_m67iCg7vm6m6zKF59vaoKOIhyyin6D4V3SGtgvf7MYmOH1ELmKfs-3PI6aWsHjSec4O4/s1600/024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhZQhd3VU9a7xU-WDVvtPUnvLFhyypsQY6CpGws9_sljj0hqTswJHh5NBEH1-t11G_HcSiI_m67iCg7vm6m6zKF59vaoKOIhyyin6D4V3SGtgvf7MYmOH1ELmKfs-3PI6aWsHjSec4O4/s320/024.JPG" width="213" /></a></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Town Hall Building (location of wedding)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5rSUMXZ2qOJqB2dtsOhZr3xPldsrp6YkHfScvWdYsex7w5NjUxUZWucgDm931KOj0zBiApPLAeAHaVklIjJdC8FjM7pSvmIsDu7dehSE1OXkTt_txV5s53aF_hHvyLwO1ArV4ko1Osgg/s1600/076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5rSUMXZ2qOJqB2dtsOhZr3xPldsrp6YkHfScvWdYsex7w5NjUxUZWucgDm931KOj0zBiApPLAeAHaVklIjJdC8FjM7pSvmIsDu7dehSE1OXkTt_txV5s53aF_hHvyLwO1ArV4ko1Osgg/s320/076.JPG" width="213" /></a></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical Street in Spain.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Explanada de España (below) </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTPYNyZfJQuCdXAFJWO-Z3zRoKA83a1P3jnaQBdUiYNIoQv9f-odsIsWlmo5yGD1z4KinnQcXpNO0Tqmc2FsqyNdIhQE4pVZEUJ4W16e3eBHz8dhIgjPFhOim8uQoJqtu_X49AXKnwpA/s1600/085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTPYNyZfJQuCdXAFJWO-Z3zRoKA83a1P3jnaQBdUiYNIoQv9f-odsIsWlmo5yGD1z4KinnQcXpNO0Tqmc2FsqyNdIhQE4pVZEUJ4W16e3eBHz8dhIgjPFhOim8uQoJqtu_X49AXKnwpA/s320/085.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><><><><><><><> <div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH-Cs6gHgwQXxs_ijX_AwuVhi-T1C0Ml95v8YV6gvIAGKdMfDCVHd3h_kMyKSLpvT3b4-FTSRIZ6WORSojnkflhDNO3tTa0Co_9eqU_cwr0_P69gF7ezH1vNZOYz7vaBeyeMrnhQ8po80/s1600/097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH-Cs6gHgwQXxs_ijX_AwuVhi-T1C0Ml95v8YV6gvIAGKdMfDCVHd3h_kMyKSLpvT3b4-FTSRIZ6WORSojnkflhDNO3tTa0Co_9eqU_cwr0_P69gF7ezH1vNZOYz7vaBeyeMrnhQ8po80/s320/097.JPG" width="213" /></a> </></div></></></></></></></></><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Palm trees on the Explanada de España</td></></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiX7VjSaYuVRzp8qynYuMWuQs1T3TiQFJ2dXxyrDlWnUtlFufTZYYjK2DJ5bu7q2urOvrhrP7UpsFquMiU3JF5C2NJ2cl1Dql8G4m2KcXjccgeACaawTYqQyd2bbnLmHkM3lwgJL7FT1E/s1600/111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiX7VjSaYuVRzp8qynYuMWuQs1T3TiQFJ2dXxyrDlWnUtlFufTZYYjK2DJ5bu7q2urOvrhrP7UpsFquMiU3JF5C2NJ2cl1Dql8G4m2KcXjccgeACaawTYqQyd2bbnLmHkM3lwgJL7FT1E/s320/111.JPG" width="213" /></a></div></td></tr>
<tr><><><><><><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPIBv1mpYkt-nBivOTArW_4J5CUiossCB3FNZG_ufFadPjyn-kFoY7kBm9GR_xiEQA_6CZEVg5Zsy6M0VtKC6hQDYUUIgr5eJr8kbo7MBlHqeRyKGNnbpImL-vU6y52QcPeyiRhwlFe1c/s1600/114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPIBv1mpYkt-nBivOTArW_4J5CUiossCB3FNZG_ufFadPjyn-kFoY7kBm9GR_xiEQA_6CZEVg5Zsy6M0VtKC6hQDYUUIgr5eJr8kbo7MBlHqeRyKGNnbpImL-vU6y52QcPeyiRhwlFe1c/s320/114.JPG" width="320" /></a> </></></></></></></><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Street Artist's Office</td></></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh70IcERjvaGg_ntqy0mNS8TCpGjjHhIVdOU8NBOAxYW9kZy7O1Y9Ks-mPNGhn3uajzgJSUA0PBYfNsjHZpo45RqOGldTU0Qcn3qCDSjZq35tdi1Ehbq2IS-fnznZjHmwYCBi0A7BxRvEg/s1600/138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh70IcERjvaGg_ntqy0mNS8TCpGjjHhIVdOU8NBOAxYW9kZy7O1Y9Ks-mPNGhn3uajzgJSUA0PBYfNsjHZpo45RqOGldTU0Qcn3qCDSjZq35tdi1Ehbq2IS-fnznZjHmwYCBi0A7BxRvEg/s320/138.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family by the dock</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX0xJPQ4V4Zxbmbio9J5fz23tmr5VA2XmCTHAa3xVYWUzEcGsI3abnpbxFVzdJ9FvDXUy2XsverQGSEaFGIwiTuu0MS14OtoR74M-Evpxg6KgPMPAsmugwKAK-tX-gIQ09vjbwnpg_hpM/s1600/148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX0xJPQ4V4Zxbmbio9J5fz23tmr5VA2XmCTHAa3xVYWUzEcGsI3abnpbxFVzdJ9FvDXUy2XsverQGSEaFGIwiTuu0MS14OtoR74M-Evpxg6KgPMPAsmugwKAK-tX-gIQ09vjbwnpg_hpM/s320/148.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Marina Alicantina</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxsrZj_eJU4lDYxoVydnRfM1ySFziDXBdgtVAOnhfIyiH6kcTJpw0-Y9B1Aklmn2ANXwN9mzrA1w6MCs3GpSS7wnkUCCkUj5rdi8NvpmGsI-iB2FCT7VvEbaOWMNnuoY2sJKTkl3ZlkiM/s1600/156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxsrZj_eJU4lDYxoVydnRfM1ySFziDXBdgtVAOnhfIyiH6kcTJpw0-Y9B1Aklmn2ANXwN9mzrA1w6MCs3GpSS7wnkUCCkUj5rdi8NvpmGsI-iB2FCT7VvEbaOWMNnuoY2sJKTkl3ZlkiM/s320/156.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photoshop wasn't used in any way for these..</td></tr>
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Does anyone know a gadget to put on a blogger post? Loading all the pictures takes forever...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJP7wIKjWHKwxJaAgJq-jBMDsWIKnmxveiM_Xm3zneQwym7xWPBHpBOjoemZP-lRv14FPoSkKX015YkA6vTJh0k4Bddk8dwOVIjNWbYJ-LMIeuGoa2yuoPoDplJ9a7vPxpReUe_BTCuSU/s1600/208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJP7wIKjWHKwxJaAgJq-jBMDsWIKnmxveiM_Xm3zneQwym7xWPBHpBOjoemZP-lRv14FPoSkKX015YkA6vTJh0k4Bddk8dwOVIjNWbYJ-LMIeuGoa2yuoPoDplJ9a7vPxpReUe_BTCuSU/s320/208.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBvhh7tuefzP03k7s9rz2_XBWMg9c9cyeU5aZXCmroA_f5j6Ucolf1xE3-8XSwLZdIOXY7ijPnw2fxubma1uXNr9J8weW-HWIrjgRSF3Un-KH9TrH_48f5WO4_MpalsyWdROexDGgBpc/s1600/315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBvhh7tuefzP03k7s9rz2_XBWMg9c9cyeU5aZXCmroA_f5j6Ucolf1xE3-8XSwLZdIOXY7ijPnw2fxubma1uXNr9J8weW-HWIrjgRSF3Un-KH9TrH_48f5WO4_MpalsyWdROexDGgBpc/s320/315.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh54ySvKbKgd8WTCCYnpwvY2_ewsnPnCIiHnPp7srPsxTj4hBfnW8TiFMgKBsfa3K5c6huVoRXKtIQzvctbbA4MxoXvd1Eca3lI_Isgtp0on7ecz3jkGEg0zHedXTJPOiTSH6B46Ar-ixQ/s1600/324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh54ySvKbKgd8WTCCYnpwvY2_ewsnPnCIiHnPp7srPsxTj4hBfnW8TiFMgKBsfa3K5c6huVoRXKtIQzvctbbA4MxoXvd1Eca3lI_Isgtp0on7ecz3jkGEg0zHedXTJPOiTSH6B46Ar-ixQ/s320/324.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>Again, one of the prettiest dresses I have ever seen.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJq2FGkKKVKA5K5bY6E4oKqpw6_PbNlWRLajm6iGb_-MdYB5LTbZOyzgpRkMGmwT5AC54YMap0xmK63EkW65PWvDQ6ZFey80yJNRraESMrpUfdgA8QPmtFYJ8WdYPKM-5IjYt1GyfpkgQ/s1600/294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJq2FGkKKVKA5K5bY6E4oKqpw6_PbNlWRLajm6iGb_-MdYB5LTbZOyzgpRkMGmwT5AC54YMap0xmK63EkW65PWvDQ6ZFey80yJNRraESMrpUfdgA8QPmtFYJ8WdYPKM-5IjYt1GyfpkgQ/s320/294.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santa Barbara Castle on the top right.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKX2cZDzknMyoCdsJtWRNfwlO1bntJcpW6vWxEALsVKmvrvEyXu6gF3y0vpGluv2aCCZj2AENr1e7Tka9FX2NEB7yxdxXDZKrdUgUoWn5soFCXATlAmR-vY95hpKlgLwVvbynEzwcGwKs/s1600/401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKX2cZDzknMyoCdsJtWRNfwlO1bntJcpW6vWxEALsVKmvrvEyXu6gF3y0vpGluv2aCCZj2AENr1e7Tka9FX2NEB7yxdxXDZKrdUgUoWn5soFCXATlAmR-vY95hpKlgLwVvbynEzwcGwKs/s320/401.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglUI7B1Qk7aciXPacfDHxeZbbeP_wtYjD9U-_a5jZ5jTd7sDojob0gOx2-7lMSIf8EzKvkBTIuQEHwQXNItSO7MDUpvkITwDFW_10kFG7gmxigWC4eN08w9L3lWGXacKYVbhgKBF-RM-Y/s1600/408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglUI7B1Qk7aciXPacfDHxeZbbeP_wtYjD9U-_a5jZ5jTd7sDojob0gOx2-7lMSIf8EzKvkBTIuQEHwQXNItSO7MDUpvkITwDFW_10kFG7gmxigWC4eN08w9L3lWGXacKYVbhgKBF-RM-Y/s320/408.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My house behind the big square building in the center.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHb462FTxTEIISE_n_RwVbrLkCY7-qiccCUIdtxczUzh0_jF4qmRNdm8jOTetOCR3urvj68GnuD3UDyrA_8DZlN0ihuPSPvPSN32guM_Z-dylBN0T6uMd3rQ7-yVYYaUwiX4PucoQjeU/s1600/475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHb462FTxTEIISE_n_RwVbrLkCY7-qiccCUIdtxczUzh0_jF4qmRNdm8jOTetOCR3urvj68GnuD3UDyrA_8DZlN0ihuPSPvPSN32guM_Z-dylBN0T6uMd3rQ7-yVYYaUwiX4PucoQjeU/s320/475.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrzd7Jp_sd6520WpCX631PrvFWMORfKtEnSaviUeq0YvDtitDsqX7NROv7Gi0nkoPzREz7GA_CiUpI4UPM5qGZpDi9YH5ghq18rHwKhsinhFLpXlSjpeJS1Gyht2qZSY0gYkdQ2p99G4/s1600/488.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrzd7Jp_sd6520WpCX631PrvFWMORfKtEnSaviUeq0YvDtitDsqX7NROv7Gi0nkoPzREz7GA_CiUpI4UPM5qGZpDi9YH5ghq18rHwKhsinhFLpXlSjpeJS1Gyht2qZSY0gYkdQ2p99G4/s320/488.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice the girls' dresses, they are "damas" ('beauties') and are the <br />
Alicante representative...there are a lot of them.<br />
<br />
...I love the photographer's dedication.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>A few more pictures...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOd5q-vy0UmhEsVNHEoo1RYs4VEgMihg6l9GlXItuY_ukYrAZ4XwM1569MzDGNX2K3Zyk6i5qH2-rrslIovfsG6ylRfdea5rQzwSvsJcTzi7Kvc9khn_Oih_E3b61OcNSOemtsPaKWjv8/s1600/495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOd5q-vy0UmhEsVNHEoo1RYs4VEgMihg6l9GlXItuY_ukYrAZ4XwM1569MzDGNX2K3Zyk6i5qH2-rrslIovfsG6ylRfdea5rQzwSvsJcTzi7Kvc9khn_Oih_E3b61OcNSOemtsPaKWjv8/s320/495.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCs_D6VPie6fS10t33zgYpI7ohdvZoRhyphenhyphenSQuUnkjO-kxvft4rJNkQ0suvoD_KftYTGVEYRItapOYy1Nigl66ZCE1nBkLxRPaWBZ-rvcgvnt8v_g1o5zgoBNwenk_tJRlILjdOIO5zmD7k/s1600/505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCs_D6VPie6fS10t33zgYpI7ohdvZoRhyphenhyphenSQuUnkjO-kxvft4rJNkQ0suvoD_KftYTGVEYRItapOYy1Nigl66ZCE1nBkLxRPaWBZ-rvcgvnt8v_g1o5zgoBNwenk_tJRlILjdOIO5zmD7k/s320/505.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wSZP0uMRV4f_VcOLUoAODiCV_u49tb08Yq1AhGAznyHa8CMiVP4zhOXjkW_gSk6eYUJZzYYXgX0Jn5zVfvigz_85N1csR8AAWMZ3CgFdb1MnxYdzlV4IVzWSW-C48Z3Kzirny_tXZ9E/s1600/506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wSZP0uMRV4f_VcOLUoAODiCV_u49tb08Yq1AhGAznyHa8CMiVP4zhOXjkW_gSk6eYUJZzYYXgX0Jn5zVfvigz_85N1csR8AAWMZ3CgFdb1MnxYdzlV4IVzWSW-C48Z3Kzirny_tXZ9E/s320/506.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div align="left">So now, you have officially had a tour of Alicante, and have a sense of the culture on a Saturday afternoon. Alicante is a beautiful city, and I found that just a walk in the park can really show what the community is all about.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">Happy New Year Everyone,</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">May 2012 bring you good health, new experiences, and opportunities.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">-mb</div>Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-89726287285581089722011-12-27T14:18:00.002-06:002011-12-27T14:18:47.181-06:00AFS - Spain<div style="text-align: center;">"You won't realize the distance you've walked </div><div style="text-align: center;">until you take a look around and realize how far you've been." -unknown</div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/idHSikLjnO8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<br />
Distance is only a number, the party hasn't stopped yet.<br />
<br />
-mbMary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-60821194569623849112011-12-13T14:26:00.001-06:002011-12-13T14:31:01.745-06:00LifeDuring school last year I would frequently write in my notebook, in order to ¨save¨ those moments that I would forget by the time I got home. The other day I was going through my notebooks, looking for chemistry notes. You may not laugh (or cry) like I did after re-reading this, but I thought I should share it. Titled ¨Life¨, here is a glance at what happened on an average day. (Note my English...)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
(Written Feb. 4th, 2011)<br />
<br />
<strong>Life</strong><br />
<br />
Welcome to the world of being foreign. Today started out with math class, and the substitute teacher asked me if I needed something. Me, sitting in the back of the room still without a mathbook, continued by explaining how I´m an exchange student. She looked at me with that stupid look she gives me, and continued to try and explain something that was on the board. I looked at her again and said once again how I don´t have a book, and that math in Madrid was very different, that was from previous years. The next class was history, and our teacher didn´t come, so we all went to the library. I was pretty surprised how ¨good¨ everyone was considering that there was no teacher. It was there in the library that the other American asked me if I had a calculator for the economy test the next hour. Economy test? I had no idea there was going to be an economy test. We get to class and the teacher handed out the test to everyone. Including me. Let´s back up and refresh ourselves on the fact that this is my 5th day at this school, and my 4th day in this class. My 4th economy class in my entire life. She is fully aware of the fact I have never taken economy before, but continued to hand me the test anyways. She handed me the test in such a manner there it was obvious that I was ¨invisible¨ and wanted to advoid talking to me at all costs. I wrote my name, and continued to read the test. Staring at it in confusion, with all of the economy abbreviations and concepts, I was unable to answer a single question. I raised my hand, and continued to be ignored. The teacher helped everyone around me, minus myself. My hand continued to be raised. I waited. Finally, she couldn´t ignore me any longer when she took roll call. She came over and I asked her what she wanted me to do. She was irritated with me as I couldn´t finish the test. She continued to tell me that she doesn´t understand why I am in economy halfway through the year. She was also speaking to me in a very broken English. This can be rather insulting sometimes, when your level of language is higher than their level of yours. The teacher still confused and angry, took my test and told me to read a book. I guess I didn´t make it clear enough the first two times that I didn´t have one. So I wrote this blog post. Cool.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
-mbMary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-43306730106939916322011-12-12T00:03:00.000-06:002011-12-12T00:03:37.069-06:00la realidad...24 weeks later.That long Barajas post must have put a dent into me feeling a need to write anything more. The problem I face now is finding something 1- interesting to talk about that 2 - I can sum up in one post. <br />
<br />
<br />
It's December ninth and I've been home for...24? weeks. And of course, every day for 24 weeks something about last year has crossed my mind. I wonder what the statistics are on that. How many times a day I think about it, use a reference from there, etc. My best guess is that I think about last year 10 minutes out of every 60 minutes in an hour. Whether it's a memory, dream, speaking the language, thinking I see someone I know, last year can not seem to leave my mind.<br />
<br />
It's not a bad thing, like an obsession. It's just starting to fit together piece by piece as time goes on. Some things make more sense. Some don't. But lately I feel different than I did just even a few weeks ago.<br />
<br />
<br />
One of the ultimate wonders from last year started before I left. How will things be different when I'm back home? What will it feel like to be bilingual? How will I have changed? What things will I see differently? And how will they be different?<br />
<br />
<br />
For one thing, that feeling of "it wasn't even real" is starting to set in. That was one of my fears before leaving Spain. The fear of forgetting how it all felt, to later convince yourself it was all just a dream, a vision, a thought in your mind.<br />
<br />
I think time does this to any situation. Any memory fades with time. Pictures, videos, journals, many things bring it back to life but... it's never quite the same. <br />
<br />
Maybe if I revisit the places I've been they'd seem more real. But until then I'm stuck where I'm at.<br />
<br />
<br />
It's hard to explain, how you feel. Especially now. After looking at some pictures from the beginning of last year, I see someone different. I don't see the Mary Beth in the beginning of her exchange. I see myself as a younger "kid" who experienced a lot. Some good, some bad. But it's like a different person. That life is over, and the "side" of me doesn't come out as much as it does now.<br />
<br />
Of course, right? It only makes sense to go back to your home habits.<br />
<br />
<br />
The other day I ran across some of my school notebooks. Before I left I ripped out any "uninteresting" pages in hope to make them lighter in weight (let me remind everyone of my success story of 1 having an underweight suitcase and 2 not sending a box home.)<br />
<br />
However, I kept all the stories I wrote down and journal notes I kept during class. Little things I wouldn't even remember by the time I got home.<br />
<br />
I just find it all so funny. All of it. My exact words, thoughts, everything.<br />
<br />
I changed a lot, but it makes me wonder if those changes will ever be brought back- unless I'm in the same situation, I feel as if thsoe changes were for the "other" life. I won't feel them until it "go back" to that lifestyle.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
What still gets me is school. School is what makes me feel like last year never happened. How is it that I go from a school with nothing, to one that has multiple $200 beakers just laying around ONE of our many classrooms?<br />
<br />
How is it that we complain about our paper towels? Or our sinks? And why on Earth do we need all the lights we have?<br />
<br />
<br />
A few days ago I was studying in the high school library. I am a PSEO student (as explained before) and usually go there and study before going to my college class. While students in school can't bring their backpacks in, PSEO students can, because, well obviously they are studying and are coming/going and have their stuff with them.<br />
<br />
So this day a non-PSEO student brings a backpack in. They tell him he can't bring it in the library. The librarians handle the situation.<br />
<br />
A student aide (someone who helps the group of [noisy] students who have little motivation...not the handicap students) turns to me and rudely announces:<br />
<br />
"You know you really shouldn't have your backpack here either."<br />
<br />
I looked up in shock. This is the same assistant who makes friends with students wasting their time searching google pictures. Nonetheless she doesn't make her group of students do anything.<br />
<br />
"But I'm PSEO" I replied. "We can have our backpacks in the library."<br />
<br />
She turned away and almost yelled: "Well why can SHEE have her backpack in here while other kids can't? Shouldn't you take her backpack and keep it behind her desk like all the other ones?!"<br />
<br />
...ok GENIUS, so if they take my backpack, how will I study? You want me to empty my books here and give them an empty bag? What is the point? Fool.<br />
<br />
Now I didn't actually say that of course. I figured I wouldn't make too many friends that way. I simply told her the librarians FROM DAY ONE (I have been sitting in the same spot with my backpack almost everyday for an entire semester) told me I could have me backpack.<br />
<br />
She started complaining like a child to the librarians. I went into shock. I could not believe what was happening. An immature adult trying to tell a librarian what their rule should be.<br />
<br />
I stood up and said, "Ok, I'll just be on my way to the college library."<br />
<br />
And walked out.<br />
<br />
Upon entering the college library, there were metal detectors. I had been there before, I just never thought about them. It wasn't until I left that I realized that they were there for a reason. That there might, one day, actually be a problem. It never even crossed my mind that something bad might go wrong.<br />
<br />
The library incident doesn't really mean much. The only thing I got from it was this:<br />
<br />
Unreasonable-ness causes problems. Why do people act like they do? <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
What in the world went wrong with someone having an obsessive problem of me having a backpack in the <em>library</em>?! How do these messages get sent into one's head?<br />
<br />
Just a matter of time ago I was sitting down in a library filled with other kids. Every single one of us had a backpack. No one cared. No one thought anything of it. <br />
<br />
No one felt like they were in danger.<br />
<br />
-mb<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
PS- Lockers were considered more dangerous than backpacks in my school. I was told they "wouldn't work" because of safety issues.<br />
<br />
Ironic, eh?Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-58511764155080043782011-11-17T22:16:00.002-06:002011-11-17T22:21:41.663-06:00Aquí! Sí, aquí estoy.Here! Yes, here I am. I probably lead most readers to the conclusion that I have stopped writing my blog, which is quite far from what I plan to do. I thought I should get atleast one post before November comes to an end.<br />
<br />
And with November ending, do you know what that means?¿! YES! You´re right. second semester will almost be finished. And then I can finally publish the 1,000,000,000,000 blog drafts that I need to put finishing touches on before I post them. With my current class schedule I´ve had like zero...ZERO time do do anything besides get lost in sines cosines, trig functions, and titration sodium reactions. So once I wind down things will pick up. Second semester shouldn´t be half as bad as this one.<br />
<br />
Looking for a university is a full time job. If anyone is aware of writing/blog scholarships please let me know, it´d be greatly appreciated. <br />
<br />
Off topic, I know.<br />
<br />
I would like to extend a thank you for all your comments, I am working on replying to everyone, as I hope no one thinks I fell off the side of the Earth. I´m here, yes, just...burried somewhere under my homework.<br />
<br />
December break I plan to edit a bunch of videos, so hopefully that will turn out nice. Bonus ones include commentary of myself and Jake while walking around Madrid. You don´t want to miss ém.<br />
<br />
Me, myself, and I. I miss speaking Spanish and am trying to find someone to practice with soon before I go nuts. And I have backwards translation problems, as I can´t think of a word in English, as the Spanish word does not translate correctly. This doesn´t happen often, just once in a while.<br />
<br />
It´s cold here. Like today, really. Or maybe yesterday. Which brought me to the next topic...<br />
<br />
NOVEMBER. If I had any regrets, it was probably just one. That is, that I did not write a single entry in my journal last November. Somehow I put it in my closet and must have forgotten about it until I found it again while searching for my science book, or something. I don´t quite remember.<br />
<br />
But I have enough pictures to make up for it. That and videos. So I can remember what went on more or less.<br />
<br />
One last note before I head off to study yet again.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I was walking from my car into the school. The type of cold brought back a memory. I couldn´t pin point what it was at first. But it was the first time in a long time that I felt that way.<br />
<br />
I still don´t know what triggered the memory. Maybe it was the color of the sky and the temperature of the blowing wind. But it reminded me of walking to the local metro stop by my house, or standing outside waiting for a bus.<br />
<br />
But it wasn´t the happiest feeling. No. This was rather depressing, chilling, and just...being by myself. Lonely. I walked from my car across campus and felt the same feeling for the first time, in a long time.<br />
<br />
Two days ago I wasn´t depressed, definitely not. And I don´t think I was that depressed while being gone. But I just felt a sense of loneliness, being by myself in the cold. Madrid got colder than I expected. <br />
<br />
So what is my point of writing? I don´t know. It was a weird realization that reminded me of many of the phases I went through in Madrid. Walking to the metro by myself so many times got a bit lonely. Last year was the first time I had come to terms with what ¨being alone¨ feels like. Even if it is a few minute walk to the metro, it could feel like walking through a world stuck in time.<br />
<br />
November was a good month, yes. There were a lot of unknowns last November. Harry Potter, the hike, the American Store, roaming the streets, chillin with friends, that was all great. I really started to connect with the other exchangers. Now school? That´s a tough one. I still had a lot of things I didn´t understand about the school. But I guess some of those still haven´t been answered, so it´s ok.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Have a happy early "day of thanks" as it's called, in Spanish: "día de gracias."<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8V7QF6C-yixO76V-qQZ1WT4UlisZJvIP50iHQDOcP4trRbMuxqj1PRjRaxF_396ZSToIv2jTzKZuZsg1ENKgP6LWPqiYC6yH5GbD9RcUl7HlLhf6fuSX_UrWV-nee85lEHG3LWD3F8PA/s1600/218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8V7QF6C-yixO76V-qQZ1WT4UlisZJvIP50iHQDOcP4trRbMuxqj1PRjRaxF_396ZSToIv2jTzKZuZsg1ENKgP6LWPqiYC6yH5GbD9RcUl7HlLhf6fuSX_UrWV-nee85lEHG3LWD3F8PA/s320/218.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>The "thanks" in "thanksgiving" had a whole new level last year. So a short note to those who shared this time with me last year. <br />
<br />
THANK YOUU!(:<br />
<br />
You know who you are.<br />
<br />
-mbMary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-9395691182729202392011-10-27T14:08:00.001-05:002011-10-27T14:12:02.228-05:00dieciochoEighteen. Even though it doesn't mean much in the United States, it is a milestone.<br />
In Spain, eighteen is a big deal. Scratch that. In Europe, eighteen is a big deal. Just one of the differences of coming back home.<br />
<br />
I remember sitting and writing the post "<a href="http://marybeth-afs.blogspot.com/2010/10/seventeen.html">Seventeen"</a>. I sat there and wondered what life was going to be like exactly one year from them. I wondered about all the things I would be doing differently the next year, hitting the "18" number.<br />
<br />
That's now. <br />
<br />
And I still can't believe it's been a year. Things, obviously, are very different from this day last year. Infact, last year's birthday was not what I pictured it to be. Before I left on exchange, I never pictured myself sitting in my room with nothing to do, wondering if my host family had a clue it was my birthday. I remember chatting to someone on facebook, saying, "I don't think they have a clue it's my birthday."<br />
<br />
That experienced changed me. One year later I still do not know why, but somehow, it changed me.<br />
<br />
But I mean yes, things did work out. From what I picked up my tutor reminded them that day, or the day before, and minutes before we ate dinner they ran up to "El Corte Ingles" to get a few things for myself.<br />
<br />
Straight up, I want to say the truth. I received a white towel, two hangers (yes, for like pants or jackets), a lanyard, bumble bee slippers, and a storage box for my birthday. I wasn't expecting anything big, nor did I know what to expect. It taught me a great lesson about gifts, because this time it was real. You can read about it in books or stories all you want, but it doesn't actually teach you anything until it becomes real. My host family, striving to provide for themselves, sacrificed to give me what they could for my birthday.<br />
<br />
Even though I was completely aware of the situation at the time, one year ago I look at that completely different. I wonder what their thoughts were, or any cues I overlooked. <br />
<br />
I will never forget the excitement they had when I opened the gifts. How proud they were. And that, is something I will take with me for the rest of my life.<br />
<br />
When you live something, only then does it hit you. After all your life you finally get to experience something first hand. Let people talk up anything they want. Mission trips are great. That's experiencing something first hand. But what about living it? Every day life for five months? That will change you.<br />
<br />
One year ago I was a bit stressed to say the least. Things did not "turn out as expected"- a phrase that I would like to call stereotypical. No orientation could have prepared me for last year. But think of it as a math test. If you are given all the answers, would you learn anything? No.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The memories of being at a Chinese restaurant, sneaking an ice cream cake into a theme park, having a day filled of being with friends, is something I'll never forget. The "triple birthday" celebration of last year was awesome. <br />
<br />
And a thank you to all my friends who helped me so much last year. I don't think I'll ever to be able to repay you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMvaHqSxhSZQtwMOH-C2j154FDbiGdGiBmRjT8J7Fx7l8dqjnbtXrsnPPuIvtIs70Rt2fXil8xS875RTd87-H508EtJdzNTJKIbUMdXBIxprexwDi1_Mf22bSf3mzZ-nf21Qclim_3wKQ/s1600/cake1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMvaHqSxhSZQtwMOH-C2j154FDbiGdGiBmRjT8J7Fx7l8dqjnbtXrsnPPuIvtIs70Rt2fXil8xS875RTd87-H508EtJdzNTJKIbUMdXBIxprexwDi1_Mf22bSf3mzZ-nf21Qclim_3wKQ/s320/cake1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Read "Seventeen." The significance of this cake is unbelievable.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<br />
Anddd a happy early birthday to Jake and Pinja! Hope your day is filled with squirrely things.<br />
<br />
<br />
-mb<br />
<br />
Oct. 25th, 2011Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-54656518386379738612011-10-05T17:32:00.000-05:002011-10-05T17:32:09.300-05:00BarajasDedicated to Jake and Danielle, whom I miss dearly. <br />
<br />
<blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">"</span><em>There were a few moments throughout the year I realized that the only way to move forward was to not stop. Because if you stop, there is no way to move forward. And you must, over everything else, more forward. I realized that I was completely by myself from here on out, and that there was nothing anyone could do to help me. If this job was going to get done, it was going to get done by myself, and by myself only</em>.<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"</span></span></div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">-mb</span></div></blockquote></blockquote><br />
So the day came. After multiple days of being harassed and begged I am now writing the Barajas story for all to hear. It's more exciting to tell while sitting on a sidewalk in Madrid surounded by the most awesome people in the world (while outside your friend's apartment at hours so late we won't mention...) but unfortunately I am unable to add such special effects to a story that's..well..being read on a blog.<br />
<br />
Notes were taken to keep track of everything. This is a true, unexaggerated story. And if you are patient enough to sit and read possibly the longest, most confusing blog ever- I really, sincerely thank you. <br />
<br />
And this, my friends, is why I miss my Madrid life. The exact adventure that might have killed me at the time is what I long for in such an everyday life.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">DECEMBER</span><br />
<br />
<strong>BARAJAS: UNCUT</strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-small;">(J=H sound)</span><br />
<br />
<br />
Barajas is the international airport in Madrid. There are four terminals. Terminal 1,2, and 3 have one metro stop, while terminal 4 has another. They are located on the short pink line, number five. Please note that it takes forever to get there, as it is located significantly far from the center of...the center.<br />
<br />
THE BOX.<br />
<br />
I was switching host families at the time..or..well, I was wanting to switch host families. So I wasn't sure how much longer I was going to be at my current residence- whether it was a month, a week, a weekend, or two months. This resulted me in having my American mother ship "the box" to Caroline's house.<br />
<br />
Her house became mine too, over time.<br />
<br />
The box contained many needed items such as 1- All Christmas gifts for two families, myself, new running shoes, and WINTER CLOTHES. Oh I <em><strong>so</strong></em> needed my winter ski jacket atleast one week earlier. My shoes were basically trashed by that point as well. It was a very important box. (With Christmas caramels and cookies of course, too.) I was also expecting another smaller package/envelope which was my Christmas present from my Aunt.<br />
<br />
<br />
Thursday Caroline called telling me that my package had arrived, (as she received a notice in the mail.) I needed to come to her town's "Correos" (a post office...like UPS or FedEx) to pick it up. However, the notice said I could only pick up the package between Monday and Friday from like 9AM-1PM or so. A very small window. Her town is about 20 minutes in a bus outside of Madrid. It's a good hour travel, as I had to catch three metros and one bus just to get there.<br />
<br />
Packages don't get delivered to your door. You have to go pick them up yourself. <br />
This box was estimated somewhere around <strong>22lbs.</strong> It was a nice standard size packaging box......<u>for me to take<em> back on the bus, three metros,</em> and walk <em>a good thousand feet</em></u> or so to my apartment.<br />
Just stop, and imagine. And no, that is <em>not</em> a normal sight to see.<br />
<br />
<br />
Friday I set off to get the box. The problem was Caroline had no way to get me the notice received in the mail that was required to pick up the box. She would be in school. So after brainstorming one idea after another, Caroline decided to put the notice in a dresser outside her apartment door. There was a dresser on each floor- for decoration(?), but it worked. It had a drawer without a lock, allowing access for me to get it.<br />
<br />
Caroline lived in an apartment which is inside a locked building. This locked building is inside a locked fence. I didn't have any keys to get past the fence. Even if I jumped the fence I didn't have any keys get into the main building.<br />
These were typical everyday problems we faced. But somehow, we always worked it out.<br />
<br />
Weird and unusual complications were normal.<br />
<em><strong>As so were very commonly the problems.</strong></em><br />
<br />
Problem? I think not. I simply had to wait until someone drove in- opening the gates. I then hoped that person or another one soon to follow lived in the apartment building I needed to get into. <br />
<br />
They unlock, I follow.<br />
<br />
I was so lucky. As soon as I arrived someone drove up, and just happened to live in the same apartment builing. I walked in, grabbed the paper out of the dresser, and headed over to Correos a few streets over.<br />
<br />
And then the usual. Walk in, take a number, and wait for 30 minutes. I was one of the last people before they closed.<br />
<br />
I felt very lucky at this point.<br />
<br />
<br />
You know it's never good when, whatever the language, people stop what they are doing to go ask someone else a question. Right away you know something is wrong. Especially when they stand there talking about it for five minutes, shrugging their shoulders.<br />
<br />
<br />
I felt not-so-lucky at this point and was very tired of waiting and standing around.<br />
<br />
<br />
The lady came back and told me I was at the wrong place. THE WRONG PLACE? Yes. She said my package had some problems in customs and was at the Barajas Correos office or something of the title. She told me to call the number on the package. Avoiding any more questions, she turned back to her work.<br />
<br />
Well, there were three numbers on the package.<br />
<br />
I called Caroline, who was still at school. There was no time to go back to mine, so I wandered around for an hour or so before meeting her at her school- which required stopping at a pharmacy asking for directions of course. Small streets are confusing.<br />
<br />
<br />
After venting to her about the failure I went home, boxless. I asked my host family to read the notice paper. My host sister called the number(S) to only get an answering machine giving further directions on how to get my box. The other two numbers were closed offices for the weekend.<br />
<br />
She didn't understand the directions (as there were three options) and was unable to help. She did understand that my box was in the Barajas Correos- and if it was one of the multiple office hours that were mentioned, I had about an hour maybe two until they closed.<br />
<br />
I emailed my liason.<br />
<br />
I needed that box. I was not going to wait another weekend for that box.<br />
<br />
Everything was just a matter of time. <br />
<br />
In between the two terminal metro stops there is one called 'Barajas'. After speaking with my host family it was concluded that if I went to Barajas I could get directions from the locals to Correos.<br />
<br />
I grabbed my coat and flew down the apartment stairs,<br />
sprinted to the metro, (probably had to wait of course)<br />
ran down two flights of stairs<br />
down an escalator<br />
caugh another metro<br />
ran across the next metro station<br />
(ran down the WRONG escalator)<br />
ran <em>back up</em> the wrong escalator (I learned my life lesson after doing it twice at Mar de Cristal...)<br />
ran across the metro<br />
ran down the right escalator<br />
caught the metro<br />
waited what seemed to be forever<br />
arrived at Barajas metro stop<br />
ran up stairs<br />
ran up two(?) escalators<br />
<br />
Did I mention this is rush hour starting? Everyone is coming home from work. Escalators are crowded making stairs more realistic. But one escalator going up was broken that day, so the stairs were quite packed.<br />
<br />
And finally, I flew out of the metro exit <em>completely</em> exhausted. <br />
<br />
I really couldn't wait to get those new running shoes.<br />
<br />
There was absolutely no Correos in sight. If you ever make it to the Barajas metro exit- it's not very pretty. Nor did I have my camera along, unfortunately. But this was "outer center city life" if that makes any sense. Not a single store in sight.<br />
<br />
I asked four people for directions- that part is very clear in my memory. One lady in her early 20's, and two more ladies in their 30's or so. All three weren't from the area, but the third lady suggested that I asked the older woman about to cross the street, as the 'older people' are probably locals.<br />
<br />
I asked. She was crabby and didn't know. She told me to ask the young man a few yards ahead of me as the 'young people' are probably locals.<br />
<br />
....sigh.<br />
<br />
It's serious crunch time. The man didn't know but suggests asking the workers in a bar a few crosswalks over.<br />
<br />
Another 200m dash.<br />
<br />
The men at the bar were nice. They found me funny, as I must have looked pretty out of place to them. The gave me directions to go a few streets over and down, but they didn't know how far.<br />
<br />
I would "run into it." Ironic.<br />
<br />
<br />
There was supposedly a bus stop to go to Correos- but they didn't know what number the bus was. They told me that Correos was pretty far away- too far to walk to.<br />
<br />
I am so thankful that tapas bar was still open. Every other building was closed or abandoned. I didn't have a clue where I was. Even though I was only miles from my house, it felt like another world.<br />
<br />
I ran two or three streets over, turned right, and was walking at this point. It was dusk, and I was sure that Correos was closed. But since I was so close, I wanted to find it in order to know how to get there Monday.<br />
<br />
Directions! I needed directions. This was another street I remember quite clearly. The first two individuals I asked did not know. The third told me that there was no bus and to keep walking down the street- Correos would 'down there somewhere'.<br />
<br />
The street was quite deserted. The fourth person I came along told me that the bus stop was "somewhere on the street" but didn't think the buses passed that often.<br />
<br />
I had faith in the third person and kept walking.<br />
<br />
The fifth person was a man who was walking his dog. A LOCAL! I was so so so happy.<br />
<br />
The man told me where Correos was. He said it was down about the equivalent of another quarter mile (I had walked atleast half a mile already) and on the right- but obviously closed.<br />
<br />
The embarassing thing was is that the street was long but rather open. Everytime I walked up to someone they had seen I had asked the person infront of them.<br />
<br />
I asked a sixth person- an old man taking a stroll. But he knew. He knew where I had to go, and I was overjoyed with happiness.<br />
<br />
He told me that there were two Barajas offices. One was a local office- and the other one was quite a bit farther away, which would require taking a bus. He didn't know the bus number but said it would be on the correos website.<br />
<br />
I was rather relieved with this information. Even though I was angry I wouldn't have this box by the weekend, I was overjoyed that I had found some type of closure to such a long day.<br />
<br />
This- was- ridiculous. I called Caroline to tell her such a story. She didn't call me back. We had this system where she (got a promotion and) could call me for free. Therefore, whenever I needed to talk to her, I left her a missed call 'toque' and she called me back.<br />
<br />
Just a few hundred yards down the street were lights and what looked like civilization. Curiously I walked just to find a rather cute plaza with tapas bars, restaurants, and more. Lights were hung, there was a fountain, and I was content.<br />
<br />
Caroline called. She was heading into Madrid. I started my bizzare story.<br />
<br />
"Caroline...you'll uh...never believe the story about my box."<br />
<br />
"Oh, wait, your box? Your box is at my house now. My host dad picked it up after work."<br />
<br />
Un-be-lieveable. I traveled for how many hours? And it's there now?<br />
<br />
<br />
Relieved, I traveled over an hour to Caroline's house, as I was on the <em><strong>complete opposite</strong></em> side of Madrid. <br />
<br />
<br />
Something I didn't mention was that I had my purse and empty packback with me the entire time. My mom had also placed some re-useable grocery bags in the box in order to make it easier for me to transport my things from Caroline's Correos to my house in Madrid. A square box is kind of awkwardly shaped and really hard to hold when it weighs 22lbs.<br />
<br />
So backtracking I went. Backpack and all I was just happy as could be.<br />
<br />
I went back to Caroline's house [apartment]. The intercom to let people in was broken that day, as I could not hear Caroline's parents ask "quien?" This means that when they asked for who was at the door, no one answered. So if no one answers, no one is at the door. And the door does not get opened.<br />
<br />
The house line was busy and Caroline wasn't picking up her phone. I believe she had no service on the metro. Twenty minutes later or so I get ahold of Caroline and another five or ten to call the house. I finally get in.<br />
<br />
I knew Caroline's host parents relatively well from previous visits. They are very nice and helped me quite a bit on multiple occasions.<br />
<br />
As I walked in the house I knew this wasn't the end of the goose chase. They didn't know why I was there...alone. Or why I was so panicky.<br />
<br />
There was no box in sight.<br />
<br />
Caroline's dad received a second paper from Correos. He didn't bring a box home...but rather just received a piece of paper. This paper said my box was at ...Correos.<br />
<br />
Awesome, I know.<br />
<br />
This Correos in town happen to re-open after 1 or 2PM from like 5-8PM or 5-7PM. It was very confusing as that is not what the paper had said. With about 20 minutes until closing, Caroline's host mom and I quickly walked over to Correos. We talked to the workers to find out what was going on...and to straighten out the confusion.<br />
<br />
They still had no idea about anything the first notice said. The second notice was fine, as they went to the back to retrieve my package. <br />
<br />
It was a package envelope from my aunt...my Christmas present.<br />
<br />
And still no box.<br />
<br />
We walked back to the aparment, as Caroline's host mom called the numbers on the first notice. <br />
<br />
Meanwhile, I open the envelope from my aunt. Inside includes some candy and a pedometer. I then had a super strong interest as to how many steps I had walked that day. And the candy was completely gone..as I had not eaten since (about 8 hours earlier) when I dropped by the candy store and chino (HAM Ruffle's chips...oh yeah..)waiting for Caroline's school to end...cheap food, my friends, was a lifesaver.<br />
<br />
I refuse to describe every single specific discussed in such a long, boring, dragged out conversation besides a few main ideas. But after talking with multiple people on the subject the following was mentioned:<br />
<br />
<ul><li>I had to be atleast 18 years of age to pick up my box. (I was 17) All people under age 18 could not pick up the box without an adult with them.</li>
<li>This adult had to be the person receiving the box. If their name was not on the box they could not pick it up. Therefore, the sender (my American mom) was to write a permission paper granting permission to Caroline's host parent to pick the box up personally in the Barajas' Correos. (She had sent the box to me of course.)</li>
<li>I had to make a list of everything in the box and list it's value. (Well, considering there were a few 'surprises' for myself...I wasn't quite sure.</li>
<li>If no one was able to pick up the box, I was to pay ($200 maybe?) for someone to bring it to my house.</li>
<li>The Barajas Correos is only open for that short window of about 9AM-1PM...during Caroline's host parent's work...so they are unable to pick up the box.</li>
<li>A fee is to be paid as somehow my American mom did not pay enough tax on the box when it was shipped out, requiring a country tax to be paid.</li>
<li>The box had to be picked up within a month or less before being thrown away.</li>
</ul>We still do not know how to get there.<br />
<br />
Enough was enough and nothing could be done until Monday. I went home which required taking the bus, three metros, and crashed. This one way trip in it's own requires climbing 192 steps (not counting the ones going down)...most of which are elevator steps. "Cuatro Caminos" metro switch is a killer. I had covered more ground that one day in Madrid than any other single day my whole entire year.<br />
<br />
Caroline's host mom made a few more calls the next week and the people with Correos just had us running in circles. My tutor emailed me back with a link to the Correos website...telling me to pick up my box at... the Correos in Barajas.<br />
<br />
Sound familiar? I was pretty hopeless at this point.<br />
<br />
The website never specifically said where this place was. Just something about taking a bus there. There was no information on where to get on or off this bus.<br />
<br />
No map was found online...and I asked a (spanish) friend in a local college to help me. He gave me directions, and the next day...which was a Friday I believe...I set out again with my backpack for this box.<br />
<br />
DeJaVu or what. I got off at Barajas metro, and followed the map I had sketched from the route my friend gave me on google. (We did not have a printer in the house.)<br />
<br />
This took me to the same place my friends at the bar told me to go...except instead of turning right I turned left, walked down the street, went around a round-about (very common in Madrid) and walked over a bridge. <br />
<br />
X-marks the spot and my final destination was a <strong>"Zona Industrial"</strong><br />
....a restricted industrial zone area surrounded by a fence. <br />
<br />
There was definitely <em>not</em> a Correos there.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqoNiGeW8X6SQRbRErV7nF-pW8gLSzpT5aIfqKPa5kbfG3FYLoQ1TgT3pmiTp8GNqKBJmCWmKtA7s62FuUmx5S9LFSvwOIt8f42Hd_wiOJRnxv0IJYIn5TJvA_GJDXHptchAUPdao64o/s1600/barajas1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="155" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqoNiGeW8X6SQRbRErV7nF-pW8gLSzpT5aIfqKPa5kbfG3FYLoQ1TgT3pmiTp8GNqKBJmCWmKtA7s62FuUmx5S9LFSvwOIt8f42Hd_wiOJRnxv0IJYIn5TJvA_GJDXHptchAUPdao64o/s400/barajas1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Street view from Google crossing bridge to "Industrial Zone"<br />
Ahead you see what was marked on my map as the "X" to signify Correos..</td></tr>
</tbody></table> It reminded me of an army base...like..if you were surrounded by people with guns...yeah. But I doubt it. I've just seen too many movies.<br />
<br />
After pondering what my next move should be, I decide to search for people to ask for directions. The weird thing was that this place was oddly deserted. There was no one in sight to help me. So I started my walk down the street on the right, searching for people to help me.<br />
<br />
The first guy in some type of booth had no idea.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1tfV15HxPwQ9HZg49SET78rEw18VYLXlAHVE9kBRG13OsrOAnPSrKPpToOD4cBDfSUEzD92C8eYdsjZmJc7DbN6_H3la9-h_HLj0ui1fi7EKNzGKasGXtKUDAFrIm6xjnqT47cX3yIbw/s1600/barajas2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="196" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1tfV15HxPwQ9HZg49SET78rEw18VYLXlAHVE9kBRG13OsrOAnPSrKPpToOD4cBDfSUEzD92C8eYdsjZmJc7DbN6_H3la9-h_HLj0ui1fi7EKNzGKasGXtKUDAFrIm6xjnqT47cX3yIbw/s400/barajas2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First booth I stopped at behind man on the street.<br />
Something about this place reminded me of a concentration camp in the movie Schindler's List.</td></tr>
</tbody></table> So I moved on. The first man could clearly not help me. Much, much further down the street I run into a second booth with another gate, as seen below.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwoXUucBxtDVr9_YsfZOXrd-fQ3ecPdqobg23WJ-kvBS5JcFhjMhKJSRPsnsCH9BzKoIoNVXqEUQQGhEOVPUbVto-vqKE3MwNZTh4f1pfvC8C7Isv_iVxKVtqgt06Eao52Yzx-VDtQsfU/s1600/barajas3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="196" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwoXUucBxtDVr9_YsfZOXrd-fQ3ecPdqobg23WJ-kvBS5JcFhjMhKJSRPsnsCH9BzKoIoNVXqEUQQGhEOVPUbVto-vqKE3MwNZTh4f1pfvC8C7Isv_iVxKVtqgt06Eao52Yzx-VDtQsfU/s400/barajas3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>The first worker/guard (smoking on the job I would like to add) was male, and called over his femal co-worker to help. Both clueless, a third man steps in, pointing me further down the street, telling me there is a bus stop.<br />
<br />
I continue.<br />
<br />
I see no bus stop.<br />
<br />
So I stop at the third booth I see. A security guard, I believe.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd_8qAS1W-_x5y4-adhGtkQLXCjMg2uE-Wo20eaDLoPcH7g94eVxpmcrslwBCej4paAgIep5uSQ_dlSTvuk5O5Lpqy-Ouhf-FDQ35BD4pEwzQm6u-ew5ZPP0N59Yq6dYUg_qvFmbm3Zl4/s1600/barajas4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="188" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd_8qAS1W-_x5y4-adhGtkQLXCjMg2uE-Wo20eaDLoPcH7g94eVxpmcrslwBCej4paAgIep5uSQ_dlSTvuk5O5Lpqy-Ouhf-FDQ35BD4pEwzQm6u-ew5ZPP0N59Yq6dYUg_qvFmbm3Zl4/s400/barajas4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Third booth.<br />
<br />
<div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My liason called me right as I was crossing the street towards the booth. I had enough money on my phone for one exact phone call. He was returning my 'toque'. I told him what I was doing...as it was easier to describe where I was.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had no idea where I was.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But let me point out I wasn't lost. I knew exactly how to walk forever back to the metro. That's just not where I wanted to go.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He said he would call me back after searching online. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I ask guard for directions. He tells me the bus stop is on the street, as I walked past it. How could I have missed a bus stop?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYz8UcoVJhARtrCJwB1dZJ69AfWkWWgX17t8EfLZ-8UV-kOVKO4EsqGu_VzeUefIbT-I6liyOdVWXyZC4P-ozvytDJKyPdWxGL4l7i4IRaMf9I3OnSJDno123mg0FT640qltDmXWMLSmM/s1600/barajas5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYz8UcoVJhARtrCJwB1dZJ69AfWkWWgX17t8EfLZ-8UV-kOVKO4EsqGu_VzeUefIbT-I6liyOdVWXyZC4P-ozvytDJKyPdWxGL4l7i4IRaMf9I3OnSJDno123mg0FT640qltDmXWMLSmM/s400/barajas5.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A typical bus stop in Madrid. How did I miss one of those?<br />
<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="left">So how is it possible to miss a bench and all? Like seriously?</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">I stood with the guard looking very confused down the street I had just came from. </div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">Besides, there were enough liars in this goose chase already. Was he serious?</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">This was another "feel like a complete idiot" moment. The guard tried to furth explain where the bus stop was. It was across from X. See? Right there, infront of you. But I had no idea what the word X was. He was telling me it was across from something, but I didn't know what that something was.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">I walked back down the street towards the "bus stop" and thought about just turning around and going home.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">My liason called. His great online searches came to a conclusion, as he told me: </div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><em>"You are close."</em></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">Thanks, bud. He said nothing more and hung up.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">There were a few moments throughout the year I realized that the only way to move forward was to not stop. Because if you stop, there is no way to move forward. And you must, over everything else, more forward. I realized that I was completely by myself from here on out, and that there was nothing anyone could do to help me. If this job was going to get done, it was going to get done by myself, and by myself only. </div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">The moment when you realize you are alone is a very, frightening moment. I wasn't lost. I wasn't in danger. But I was alone. When most kids up their phone and call their parents, I was left to critical thinking. I could not use my phone, and I could not contact my parents. Both natural and host parents were 100% unable to help me at this point. None of my friends went through this before, and I then at that moment, lost the last contact I could think of. </div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">I had to move forward.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">Back down the street I walked. I searched up and down for the bus stop- no covered bench in sight.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">But I wasn't looking for the right thing. As I came across a pole I started to read it. It had numbers on it, names, and times. This was it. The bus stop was not a covered bench, but rather a single rod sticking up from the sidewalk.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">Another significant lesson learned. The fact that I had blindedly walked right past a bus stop was one thing. The fact that I was looking for a covered bench with another. </div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">You cannot blind yourself by 'what you this is' by 'what actually is.' </div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">In cliche terms, think outside the box. Look at all the possibilities. Not just the ones you know.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">Problem solved. Well, almost. I was looking for bus 114, and...there was no 114 bus listed. According the the man I had just talked to, I had to take this bus (bus 101...how ironic man, how ironic. I didn't find it too funny at the time though..) to another place, where I would either walk or take a second bus to Correos.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">Bus 114 was the one mentioned on the Correos website. As said previously, there was no clue where to get bus 114 or where to take it to. Therefore bus 114 served no help to my situation.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">I waited at the bus stop. I waited longer. There was no bench, as I would have done just about anything to sit down on one. </div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">A bus comes. It is not my bus.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">I started to wonder if the bus was ever going to come. I don't know exactly how long I waited for, but the bus came. I walked on and asked if it would get me to Correos. </div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">He said no.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">I was at the wrong bus stop. The correct one was on the other side of the street, going the other way.</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">Was I frusterated? Noooooo. I was overjoyed that I had asked before I sat down. Asking the man saved me from backtracking and getting even more confused. </div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left">I crossed the street and waited for the same bus to come..but from the correct direction. Below is the screenshot of the two 'bus stops.'</div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><br />
</div> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi45B_rpydPUo3F3-hn3WtJXV-BI4TTJn940KEU-mmCKO_0jdzZGl8a_JDknBNwp5iNxF8ct_oQIy3TbdY6hEC43Po6_TPpzEhQ_hr5-WZ6I1ibf-u_RWn7TUW0lksvqlHUU19OQhB5bOc/s1600/barajas6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="183" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi45B_rpydPUo3F3-hn3WtJXV-BI4TTJn940KEU-mmCKO_0jdzZGl8a_JDknBNwp5iNxF8ct_oQIy3TbdY6hEC43Po6_TPpzEhQ_hr5-WZ6I1ibf-u_RWn7TUW0lksvqlHUU19OQhB5bOc/s400/barajas6.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Correct bus stop on left.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Bus 101 pulled up, and I got on. I immediately asked the driver if this bus would take me to Correos.<br />
<br />
He said no.<br />
<br />
He said he would drop me off at another bus stop and tell me how to get there. <br />
<br />
I scanned my abono pass and sat down for the first time in hours. My feet were throbbing and I couldn't wait to get to Correos...before it closed at 2PM.<br />
<br />
I unpatiently sat and waited for the driver to motion me over. I was sitting in the front seat of the bus, as it only had two other people on board. I wasn't surprised- it was an ugly part of the city.<br />
<br />
I sat, and waited. Everyone got off. I waited some more. I thought it was impossible for him to forget the only person on the bus. <br />
<br />
Finally, he pulled up to a bus stop. He told me that there was no bus to Correos. I had to walk. He pointed at a big (but so very small in the distance) yellow sign. He said it was the customs building. The yellow sign was Correos. <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhum1lew1-RlRQ8Q3Sq9V-rvI_ZVNQGJr-1tuVn1UpIu-jfq4HmPev7wVjFA8OoUy14pF9hOSWfp0J6gWlh-6Byf9DKk6xeUTs3fod5eD2Qzuvm16LtaSgYow1arU9UwAE0Jve2gW2MiNo/s1600/barajas10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="152" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhum1lew1-RlRQ8Q3Sq9V-rvI_ZVNQGJr-1tuVn1UpIu-jfq4HmPev7wVjFA8OoUy14pF9hOSWfp0J6gWlh-6Byf9DKk6xeUTs3fod5eD2Qzuvm16LtaSgYow1arU9UwAE0Jve2gW2MiNo/s320/barajas10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bus stop I got off at. <br />
The street you see is the one I took to Correos.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCdya004J9tzVs7qsBsrXLja4ZHSqRPrzNp30P7IgD8WT_EhERR4dxSwAuDG8Ayj-eYH7HeP7mZfrFMXRz4ElKgZg5Vl4xJlIh0IQ7MvNBbEgWIiK2mqOYQN9Gdf9d2aXccOEhcvYA90/s1600/barajas11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="192" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCdya004J9tzVs7qsBsrXLja4ZHSqRPrzNp30P7IgD8WT_EhERR4dxSwAuDG8Ayj-eYH7HeP7mZfrFMXRz4ElKgZg5Vl4xJlIh0IQ7MvNBbEgWIiK2mqOYQN9Gdf9d2aXccOEhcvYA90/s400/barajas11.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Correos.</td></tr>
</tbody></table> With a big sigh and groan I started my walk. The only thing I had to do was to not loose sight of that yellow sign. If I lost sight of it, it was all over. Besides, I had to get to Correos in order to get home. I had no idea how to get home in a reasonable amount of time. I mean, you can just jump on any bus until they drop you off at any metro stop...but that's boring. And could take a while when you're in a part of Madrid where busses don't pass that often.<br />
<br />
Notice in the picture above on the left there is a side walk. When I reached the end of the street, I turned left. I didn't actually have directions but I thought it was the right way. The picture below is where I turned left. A highway. No sidewalks. A taxi got uncomfortably close to me on the corner...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWrt-FKnyAG5pI4J0z7HgeyAibLDFT1yPoGN5I4LYkFgxmU4Ip6MPu3J34cxeoSBtRYiAbPvBtDRhC7FtI5WTFu1ZpZRWHma37dmnBjAEWlhIMzBgsJF4dr2N3RQeTAiDIrsj_6YyacQ/s1600/barajas9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="205" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWrt-FKnyAG5pI4J0z7HgeyAibLDFT1yPoGN5I4LYkFgxmU4Ip6MPu3J34cxeoSBtRYiAbPvBtDRhC7FtI5WTFu1ZpZRWHma37dmnBjAEWlhIMzBgsJF4dr2N3RQeTAiDIrsj_6YyacQ/s400/barajas9.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turning left onto Trespaderne</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Down the highway I walked. It was a bit scary, yes. Right outside the Correos building a group of three or four people asked me for directions. That made me feel better, as I was glad they thought I was a normal person instead of a hitch-hiker or hobo. You have to remember I had a backpack and purse with me while traveling the place.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">(I became Spanish and pointed them in the direction I came from even though I had no idea where they wanted to go.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They passed along. I turned around to the Correos building and my hopes immediately fell. It was surrounded by a fence and not open for public passing. My thoughts? "You could not be serious."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, in order to get to the Correos building I had to find a way pass the fence. Make note that the picture from Google is not from when I was there.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMUU6RfVVXB34s_nGdmrIp4oLJXHpyVj-zlfNGQJgEc07-yxUEcQh4FV5C15fb4Yb7wa4vQnTlm1Is87wfi3pCSfzlEJ_BeS32A1EKYoxH63lBX2rR-5C8oqNs-BB9bn5uIbmh8QRlahI/s1600/barajas12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMUU6RfVVXB34s_nGdmrIp4oLJXHpyVj-zlfNGQJgEc07-yxUEcQh4FV5C15fb4Yb7wa4vQnTlm1Is87wfi3pCSfzlEJ_BeS32A1EKYoxH63lBX2rR-5C8oqNs-BB9bn5uIbmh8QRlahI/s400/barajas12.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I walked along the fence towards a few guys unloading a truck. I asked them how to get to Correos.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"It's a building here somewhere but there are more than one so I don't know where you should go."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They did, however, let me pass through the gates. I started my search for more people as I walked around the building. After walking for a while, I almost gave up. Right here at the exact building I had worked so hard for to find; I almost gave up. There was not a single soul in sight.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><em>"Move forward" </em>was all I kept saying. <em>"Move forward and don't stop."</em></div><br />
Nevertheless, I still almost gave up. I brainstormed a bizillion options but nothing would work. That part was clear. If I did not get this, no one would. And I would never get that box.<br />
<br />
This was a moment where I realized everything was out of my control. I could do one of two things. I could keep foolishly walking around or I could find my way home and give up. It's not like you can snap your fingers and make someone appear on the side of the road.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Panic struck me when I realized I didn't have two options. I had <strong><em>one</em></strong>. Because even if I <em>wanted</em> to go home, I had no idea where to walk to. It would take forever to find a bus stop. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And people think <em>college</em> is tough?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In deep thought, I turned the corner. BAM! There were about 15 people on a smoke break. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A-MA-ZING.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I quickly ran up and asked the group if they knew how to get to Correos. I was then the center of atttention like the president giving a speech. Everyone kind of gave me weird looks but it didn't bother me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They gave me directions and told me it was "the little red door."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Reciting the directions in my head (remember everything was in Spanish and I had no map or paper and pen) I found the little red door. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"A little red door for little Red Riding Hood" is how I remembered it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-a1YciZtaAgL-tHDH-haCkFjfN1bFZ61Ei5f3g_MMmJEILOa2Jk5MFX_VCS7fKY613Gsl1lrOS6rdl3wDM5VuB1IvDje49NX9vKcaHeg9mF3I2bF47QZwGCQAwR-2YhQR5SNk5YIo_lk/s1600/barajas13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-a1YciZtaAgL-tHDH-haCkFjfN1bFZ61Ei5f3g_MMmJEILOa2Jk5MFX_VCS7fKY613Gsl1lrOS6rdl3wDM5VuB1IvDje49NX9vKcaHeg9mF3I2bF47QZwGCQAwR-2YhQR5SNk5YIo_lk/s400/barajas13.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red door. (One of many, btw.)<br />
<div align="left"></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">RELIEF! My gosh, just being able to say I found customs was a miracle.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I waited in line. There were two lines, actually, and a man pointed me to the other line in a different room. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I waited.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My turn came and the man took my paper. He looked at it in a confused manner. He then told me he would return. Five minutes later he came back with the paper, and told me:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Your box isn't here. You need to go to your local Correos and pick it up there."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I-was-furious. I did not move and told him that my box was indeed behind him in the big storage room. He looked at me and told me a second time:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Your box isn't here."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I didn't move. I asked for another worker. The man then looked at me and said, "just, just wait. Maybe it is here. I'll go ask someone."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">...Yeah, you do that. You go ask, because I am done asking. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He came back and gave me further directions. He did not tell me where my box was. He told me that I had to go down the street a few blocks to get my paper stamped. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Another place? Yeah, ok, bring it. Because I was not going to let one more place on my list stop me from getting that box.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"But it closes before us, it closes really soon, so you might not make it. Infact, I think it closes in less than twenty minutes. It's the big blue building down the street."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Does it have a name? A street name atleast?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"No, you'll see it. It's the big blue building down the road and to the right. You don't actually turn right, but it's to the right."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Riiiiiiight. whatever.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I walked back outside onto the street. AWESOME! Every building in sight is blue. The buildings were like "themed" to all be blue. I started running down the street. Sprinting, actually. It was minutes before this placed closed. I turned the corner and then saw the building. It was definitely the "big blue building."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2YBRQEFciqVHgymCJxfgizoS0oRZPjqntKZeCRsEdD0XLSx3gE7GeQlvqfjafpncyX1Ur12Cjz9W8tMogFSVAQSPpg4vXawo-NTjoPEKfpFcS88WEaGQDnm4Elo9WFELNesSXdALpL8o/s1600/barajas20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="134" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2YBRQEFciqVHgymCJxfgizoS0oRZPjqntKZeCRsEdD0XLSx3gE7GeQlvqfjafpncyX1Ur12Cjz9W8tMogFSVAQSPpg4vXawo-NTjoPEKfpFcS88WEaGQDnm4Elo9WFELNesSXdALpL8o/s320/barajas20.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buildings all 'themed' in blue.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgraqFIGHP_3ETiWj0tGvwXPVPmL01WzbUH_VWpQzu6yT7iAuMF1NjOtUitnNAjbaUoIKZ4pzxQB9hS_ar66DjRgmkKD13KaI-IBjYHTaz_we3cnomqDJQd6QFwKv0cZ_mqyf_Gb2h4ZPw/s1600/barajas16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="195" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgraqFIGHP_3ETiWj0tGvwXPVPmL01WzbUH_VWpQzu6yT7iAuMF1NjOtUitnNAjbaUoIKZ4pzxQB9hS_ar66DjRgmkKD13KaI-IBjYHTaz_we3cnomqDJQd6QFwKv0cZ_mqyf_Gb2h4ZPw/s400/barajas16.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"big blue building"<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had to stop running at the path up to the building (which felt like a mile from the road) as my legs were..haha..well very tired. Entering the building I walked in looking for...well, I wasn't really sure. Some guy to stamp my paper. All the stores were closed except a cafe. I walked in and around the place, went upstairs, and then back down. Across the hall was a security guard, and before I could even get a word out of my mouth she pointed me inside.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There I waited in line and handed the man my paper. He wasn't confused! A miracle. He asked me what type of things were in my box, (gifts) stamped my paper, and told me to go back to the same building I was just at.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Walking out of the blue building I went into shock. There, right infront of my eyes was a bus station- bench and all. Bus number? 114.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimD04tXXVh4_gHQxrJ1-jrDOPTI0eWTVEo438H6Ks_5DcdA24aTkD-VMLSERonpTbtWpVs2kVEiQ-aaePuaLuHApr_nZpYcY578GfPfhsZCxqVs9e2ZpxVcWdLHH17KUDEk1uDfqzcC1E/s1600/barajas19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="156" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimD04tXXVh4_gHQxrJ1-jrDOPTI0eWTVEo438H6Ks_5DcdA24aTkD-VMLSERonpTbtWpVs2kVEiQ-aaePuaLuHApr_nZpYcY578GfPfhsZCxqVs9e2ZpxVcWdLHH17KUDEk1uDfqzcC1E/s320/barajas19.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Completed with a bench.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSDFbf-bNGqWiEINJ4OiIqpJ2esKvBWaj93z_dcGOEZNJ5srSpNMgjR4wAjxLIpYMKV17pCeV0IIUafjyQWuW4FYH-7bRKQSkJLPpSZECVnF4TOXlZsXRF-aWuvPE0DKJKZJ8iNknVgO4/s1600/barajas18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="164" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSDFbf-bNGqWiEINJ4OiIqpJ2esKvBWaj93z_dcGOEZNJ5srSpNMgjR4wAjxLIpYMKV17pCeV0IIUafjyQWuW4FYH-7bRKQSkJLPpSZECVnF4TOXlZsXRF-aWuvPE0DKJKZJ8iNknVgO4/s320/barajas18.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bus 114.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I walked back to the customs building. I waited in line to claim my box, and handed the lady my paper. I then nervously waited to see how much money I was supposed to pay. I was expecting somewhere between 50 and 200 Euros. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I reallyyyyy didn't want to pay 200 Euros. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was also impatient knowing I was under 18. I wasn't sure what the lady was going to tell me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She handed me the fine for my box. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Fine? 4 euros.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">FOUR! AHH! JOY! But wait, why only four? I looked at it again. The 'fee' of not paying enough taxes before shipping it out had been a mistake. Everything was paid for and Correos made a mistake by keeping it in customs. I had to pay a 4 Euro service fee.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I handed the lady my card.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Sorry, we do not accept any credit or debit cards. Cash only."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I pulled out my wallet- empty. Completely empty. I remembered how I didn't go to the bank the day before, and I was just too busy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When all else fails, check your coins. I usually had a bunch of coins in my purse from all the bus change. However, I had just used up my coins the day before as well. I forgot on what. But I had less than two Euros.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Being so close was devastating. There wasn't an ATM at customs, but the lady told be that there would be one at the building I just came from.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Back I went to the building. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">First floor had no ATM's. They were hard to find. I went to the deserted upstairs, climbing and tripping on the broke escalator, avoiding the weird look the man going down gave me, and found an ATM. I waited in line, took out cash, and went back to customs. That walk started to feel pretty long.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I went back and waited in line.They almost didn't get through the line before closing. But they did, and I went up, paid, and they gave me my box.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">POR FIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I found peace with Correos.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here I would like to add that they did not ask me for identification. They did not require that I was 18, or that a parent come and pick up the box. No permission sheet was mentioned. All of that for nothing. But it worked out in my favor, so I'm not complaining.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My journey home with my box was...very...unattractive. By the end of the corner I decided that indeed the box was too heavy and awkward shaped to continue to take home. At a random staircase I opened the box (which was super difficult without scissors, destroying the box) and loaded everything into my backpack, purse, and reusable Wal-mart bags (two, remember? Caroline's was stolen outside of my apartment a month later.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY39sWQjaVF95WH1_2uynZvAyNAwFec7gooj5B5KAKN_W29a_mrAkDNRzbvWmVZQB2T1A_72kN5aSxd59VrjuwePdTrSBIV7ET4wVxK_QMXiQSNOCe_guE8JPavg6-ki57KwpMnBUvgok/s1600/barajas14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="193" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY39sWQjaVF95WH1_2uynZvAyNAwFec7gooj5B5KAKN_W29a_mrAkDNRzbvWmVZQB2T1A_72kN5aSxd59VrjuwePdTrSBIV7ET4wVxK_QMXiQSNOCe_guE8JPavg6-ki57KwpMnBUvgok/s400/barajas14.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The staircase.</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The coat I already had on was a fairly decent winter jacket. I had to wear my ski jacket on top of that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Everything BARELY fit. I mean, BARELY. I had breakable plates and things that I thought for sure shattered by the time I made it home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After loading everything up, I realized I still had one problem. I still had the box. I couldn't just leave it on the street, nor did I have the hands to take it with me. So I looked for a dumpster. The problem was that in December I wasn't familiar with trash disposal laws. Like could I just walk up to a dumpster and throw it away? Which one did it go in? I had no idea.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV5TKsQY57qfUjSOC2Txw7rpTsy6HpJwbO2YnVJHqrpXVxe88-y3IMnVlNSr-8LAk089-pImqKn6Bw0l9r-CyWr1Tx_OWQZDfMl-jZqjQ7cgXpjhdJKPt4lJoq3njJixHhYSwxcyX-o_U/s1600/barajas15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="192" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV5TKsQY57qfUjSOC2Txw7rpTsy6HpJwbO2YnVJHqrpXVxe88-y3IMnVlNSr-8LAk089-pImqKn6Bw0l9r-CyWr1Tx_OWQZDfMl-jZqjQ7cgXpjhdJKPt4lJoq3njJixHhYSwxcyX-o_U/s400/barajas15.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dumpsters.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Me+stuffed backpack+two heavy bags+abnormally stuffed purse+two winter coats(and hat)+random torn up box es igual a (is equal to) = Mary Beth looking like a homeless person.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Awesome.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I knew to take bus 114, but I didn't know where it went. I wasn't very good at reading bus routes either.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The bus came before I was at the stop, so I ran...again. I got on the bus and didn't even ask where it went. Avenida de America was on the route somewhere and I knew that place well. It had a metro stop so from there I would just go home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After about ten minutes it hit me that I did not pay attention to which <em>direction</em> the bus was going...but rather that Avda. de America was a stop. You must realize when you catch a bus for every stop there are two sides. One going north and one heading south...east or west. You get the point. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But I made it there, and hit rush hour going home- so there were no empty seats on the metro. I walked back to my apartment, unloaded my things, and just stared at everything in fascination.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had my box.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-mb</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A few months later Jake called. His box was in Correos. </div>Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-21227817412495531842011-09-01T20:43:00.004-05:002011-09-01T21:09:14.770-05:00The AftermathLately I've been sitting around, asking myself the same, very irritating question;<br />
<br />
<em>"So what's left?"</em><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Another year is starting. New kids are leaving. And life is moving on.<br />
<br />
<br />
The hardest of culture shock is going back to school, two months later. It's knowing that everything <em>to come</em> has been changed... long before it's arrived. <br />
<br />
Currently I am a (senior) PSEO (Post Secondary Education Options) student at the local college. For those who are familiar with this program you already know that this program allows me to go to college for free while receiving both high school and college credit. You can start this program in 11th grade. Therefore, it is possible to enter college as a 3rd year student in college, that is, if you decide to take two years of PSEO classes. <br />
<br />
My first block is at the high school for a CIS (College in Schools) Chemistry class. The next three blocks are at the college. My typical school day is being at the high school, studying before going across the street, and then taking whichever college classes I have for the day.<br />
<br />
It's an interesting bunch of folks at the local college. By no means is it Duke, or Harvard, or the highest college in the state. No one knows what year you are, where you come from, or really any information about you. So it's been nice. I'm able to go to school without feeling like I'm in day care.<br />
<br />
The media raves about being a senior in high school. And I'll even admit that it got me, too. Even while I was on the other side of the ocean. Senior year is...senior year. Filled of all the <em>magical</em> things you'd ever dream about...<br />
<br />
When you get to senior year it is <em>then</em> that you realize there is <em>not any one thing</em> special about being the oldest in the building. <br />
<br />
The public talks up seniors even when they don't realize it. They are the best sports players. They are the smartest kids in the school. They are the leaders. They get crowned king and queen. They are the this, and that.<br />
<br />
The more seniors you know, the cooler you are. Isn't that how it works?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The aftermath of exchange is silently alarming. Recently I've been going through the motions on how a year in Europe changed my life, and how it will never be the same again.<br />
<br />
The first thing is, it's [the aftermath] nothing exciting. Like being a senior in high school. You get there, and...."oh." This is it? Really? That's dissappointing.<br />
<br />
As of now, I'm looking at my options to going back to Europe for college. "Where" and "how much" are the two stubborn questions in my way. <br />
<br />
After one week of a small college (ranked #1 in the area, however) the feeling of "stepping down" never leaves my mind. This is a step down from last year. Less adventure, less challenges... and it's <em><strong>boring</strong></em>. Once you've been through something so difficult and different, going back to smaller challenges is frusterating.<br />
<br />
<strong>Because you know you are capable of doing so much more.</strong><br />
<br />
So- now what?<br />
<br />
Going to school off campus for 75% of the day doesn't really help me connect with my friends that I have been out of contact with for so long. The fact that we will be moving to the opposite side of the United States within the next year does not help either. And whether we like it or not, everyone will be going their own separate ways next school year. We'll be starting another 'chapter' in our life. This 'life' will not be our 'life' forever. Time passes, things change.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dejavu or <em>what!</em> Last year I knew I only had one year in Spain. It was only going to be my life for one year. This year is the same. This will be my last time living this type of life. Then comes some years in college.<br />
<br />
And for those of you who are all worried, college will not last you your entire life.<br />
<br />
The pattern of change. How you may be comfortable in one spot, but then force to pack up your bags and leave. It's beautiful, isn't it?<br />
<br />
So back to the point. The aftermath of exchange is just piecing your timeline together. School, money, future plans, etc. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
What doesn't help is the distance put between you and the people you once knew. Your teachers, friends. Anyone you once knew has changed...but only because now <em>you</em> look at<em> them</em> differently.<br />
<br />
At school I was asked by a teacher while walking down the hall- "Hi, welcome back! How was Spain?"<br />
<br />
WHILE WALKING PAST ME.<br />
<br />
This gives me the time allowance of about two sentences. One of which is 'hello'.<br />
<br />
Another culture shock. Or maybe it's just a personal challenge. A sum-up-your-year-in-one-word challenge.<br />
<br />
<br />
Things like this frusterate me. And naturally things that are so frusterating bring me to ask myself, "how can they do that? Are they stupid? How am I supposed to answer that? Do they even have a clue what an exchange year is? Or better yet a clue of anything? Do they even have a clue about life?!"<br />
<br />
I'm asking myself if fully educated individuals have a clue about life. Awesome. <br />
<br />
And they were only trying to be friendly.<br />
<br />
<br />
It's unfortunate that "hi, how are you?" has the same level of "hi, how was your totally bizzarre adventurous challenged filled year in Spain?"<br />
<br />
Like really? What if I would have said it didn't go well? What would they have told me then? <br />
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"Oh, that's too bad."<br />
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Cause obviously there wasn't time for explaining. They weren't even planning on listening to more!...<br />
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And that is how the aftermath sits. Very uncomfortable, in bleachers. <br />
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Watching others play the game.<br />
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-mb<br />
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PS- Today last year, I arrived to NYC airport, went to the JFK hotel, and spent my very last night in the states. And the weirdest part is how I remember it so clearly. The last day of being in the states. Knowing that when I'd return, I wouldn't be the same person.<br />
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*And the USD was up about .04 or so too ;)Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-54343533908657800522011-08-30T20:21:00.002-05:002011-08-31T19:03:07.024-05:00Pre-Departure VideoThis inspirational video was played at the pre-departure orientation for us in NYC. Everytime a student's city was featured, they'd cheer. It was pretty fun, as it was kind of turned into a contest. And I can guarantee that if we were all back in the same room again, we'd be cheering for our host city. <br />
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And Madrid would win the cheering contest.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/zlfKdbWwruY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
It still gives me chills when Madrid is put on the screen. It's amazing how such a foreign place can be where you call home.<br />
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-mb<br />
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<a href="http://www.wherethehellismatt.com/about/">Learn more about Matt's video.</a>Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-53342354864084238862011-08-28T21:10:00.001-05:002011-09-01T21:17:56.981-05:00Survivor's Guide to ExchangeOne year ago, I was in the middle of packing my suitcase, saying goodbyes, and running around like crazy, trying to get anything in before I set off on my year journey. After many online searches, I never found the ultimate article on what I was looking for...<br />
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What I wish I knew before I left.<br />
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So briefly, here's my Survivor's Guide to ...my own personal exchange experience.<br />
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1). Packing. You won't fit everything you need into your migrating baggage allowance, so don't worry, and don't <em>even try</em> to pack everything you need. You'll have to send a box over for sure. I packed 3 sweatshirts, and sent one over. That's really what I was needing the most throughout the year, along with non-expensive tshirts. Tshirts to work out in, run around town, or cook. Whatever. Don't only pack nice tshirts. A few scrappy ones come in handy.<br />
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Heavily insure EVERY box you send from either country.<br />
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Avoid packing "things." Although there are a few that I will mention in a bit.<br />
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Remember- whatever you send over to your new country you have to bring back with you. So don't bring/send things you'll only use "on special occasion" or only a few times. And let your natural family save your collection of birthday and Christmas presents. Don't send <em>things</em> over, because you won't end up taking them back.<br />
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Sweatpants. My gym class wore sweatpants any given day of the year over athletic shorts. So that was something that went over in a box. But I also was in need of athletic shorts...so two pairs is my suggestion.<br />
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Heels. Heels are overrated and a huge no-no when packing. Don't pack a lot of shoes. Girls who try to wear heels all night hurt their feet. Badly. Going to discos and walking downtown many hours of the night calls for nice looking shoes of course- but not heels. Make sure you can walk five miles in the shoes you wear out at night. Especially Madrid.<br />
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Clothes. Like I said before, black, white, and grey is the name of the game. Don't bring your spring Easter dress. Black pants are awesome. Nice dark jeans, and a nice top. Those sort of things. <br />
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Do not bring rainbow colors.<br />
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2). Money. Bring lots of it and spend it smartly. In my case transportation was a monthly expense that other exchangers in Spain might not have had.<br />
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Things break. Lots of things break. But the biggest for me were my walking shoes (and jeans!). Even the best of the Asics fell apart on me with as much walking as I did in Madrid. So be ready to buy atleast one pair of new walking shoes. Or two. Or three...<br />
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3). KNOW THE TRANSPORTATION HOURS. Know WHEN the metro closes, how late the bus runs, WHERE the bus drops you off, and how much it all costs.<br />
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Madrid buses don't stop at every stop, so you really have to know when to hit the buzzer so the driver will stop for you. You enter through the front door and leave through the side.<br />
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<strong><u>Know it, understand it, memorize it,</u></strong> and be able to ask and understand any questions on how to get home, which brings me to four.<br />
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4). Know WHERE you live! HUGE ONE! Walk you neighborhood thoroughly, know where the nearest metro and bus stops are, and <u>from which direction they come</u>. <br />
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5). Realistically get a dozen tiny headshot photos for yourself, because the photo booths are kind of expensive, and a pain to go to. And make about 7 extra passport/visa photocopies than suggested. Most households didn't have a photocopier and finding one, paying for it, and the time it takes for all that can be annoying especially if you don't have a local "Correos" nearby.<br />
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6). Have you house keys with you 24/7. Sleep with them if you have to. But do not <em>ever</em> leave without your house keys.<br />
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7). Keep a white light flashlight on your house key chain. It comes in handy more than you'll think.<br />
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8). Use Yoigo for a prepaid phone. Enough said.<br />
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9). Bring <u>one</u> (or buy later) purse/(gym backpack)bag for guys. A purse that's not huge, but not small either. Something that's hard to pickpocket, but you can sling over your shoulder. And nice enough to bring out at night.<br />
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10). A gym bag. They are small and weight almost nothing, and are super cheap here in the states. Get one thats a backpack with the pull-close top. Very hard to pickpocket. Very useful when on the go, and going to sports or just around town.<br />
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11). Watch your bags like a hawk, and never ever let them touch the ground. It gets annoying and tiring, but anything will get stolen at any given moment. Consider yourself warned.<br />
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12). Bring your graphing calculator. Even though I never used mine it may come in handy depending on your math course. They don't use them in Spain.<br />
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13). Bring one outlet converter. Don't use the little ones for your computer. Bad, bad choice. Those little ones will fry your computer up to nothing. Save those for your ipod, phone, etc. Buy a converter <u>cord</u> for your computer- most cords have a box, and you can exchange the outlet end for the different one.<br />
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14). Bring an English-Spanish dictionary... but only if you can avoid it. There are iPod applications for $2 that translate words without internet. Much faster and takes up less space.<br />
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15). Keep a map with you until you know the city. I came home to find my "Streetwise Madrid" map right on my dresser. That didn't help me much in Barajas...<br />
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16). Bring good house shoes. Comfortable flip flops, slippers, whatever you want. In Spain shoes are worn in the house and it's nice to have a pair to kick off and on easily.<br />
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17). Go to the Prado before you turn 18. It's free.<br />
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18). Don't be ridiculous. Pathetic right? Don't be stupid....sounds reasonable. Don't carry your passport with you, try to publicly make it obvious that you are foreign, carry an umbrella with you, believe that it is actually cold outside in October, or any other tempting thing that is just ridiculous.<br />
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But the most important is to never bring that umbrella.<br />
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19). Learn songs in your host language. They'll love you for it.<br />
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20). Don't give to beggars. There are charity groups if you feel the need. If you give a penny everytime you will 1- Look like a tourist and 2- Be so bankrupt at the end of the year you won't know what to do with yourself.<br />
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21). <strong>Al Campo- </strong>is the place where you'll probably find the best deals on such a wide range of objects.<br />
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22). <strike>Farmacias </strike>Pharmacies- what many people dread. They are on every street corner and will have what you need. Don't feel the need to pack extra toothpaste/deodarant/tampons because the local farmacia WILL HAVE what you need. Even though it's a foreign country, people are people. Bringing Advil/Midol might not be the worst idea, but don't feel the need to overpack. Ibuprophen is prescribed with every visit to the clinic...<br />
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ABSOLUTELY DO NOT start medication <em>after</em> arriving. Birth control sent a few students to the hospital.<br />
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23). The typical AFS orientation things- never decline an invitation the first time. Go to that bullfight, or flamenco, or just hang out at the park.. because if you decline it once, you'll probably never get asked again. Make sure you pass your phone around to everyone, and tell them to add their number. That is how you'll be able to call, and <strong>insist that you give out your number to get called.</strong> If you start off correctly from the start, your year will go much easier. <br />
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24). Never take a taxi. Waste of money.<br />
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25). Get connected. Talk to those English speakers on the metro. That's how you learn about the city and meet people. And who knows, they might only live 30 minutes from your American home...<br />
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26). Don't expect your year to be perfect. That beginning expectation check-list will probably not be completed at the end, so don't worry about it. You'll make it back again.<br />
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27). Find ways to entertain yourself. School will be worse than jail but find a way to enjoy it.<br />
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28). Keep an open mind. You're the 'village idiot' in your host country...not everyone else. So don't assume you're right and they're wrong. You'll always be foreign to them even if you feel they are foreign to you.<br />
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29). Ask questions, more questions, and more questions until you understand. If I had a euro everytime I had something repeated a sixth or seventh time I would be retired with much 'pasta' in savings at age 17.<br />
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Pasta = slang for... money.<br />
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30). Just know right from the start, nothing will ever go as planned. For anything, really. So embrace it and look at it like an adventure.<br />
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And- it's never the first trip that you get what you need, it's the third or fourth. Whether it's your school books or visa papers, you'll find yourself going back multiple times.<br />
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31). Don't look forward to the end of the year. If you keep staring at the end of the road you'll miss the view out your window as you pass by.<br />
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32). Relax. Eat those calorie filled churros. Memorize the table of elements in Spanish. Wear the ridiculous looking pants.<br />
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Sure it's not all fun. But if you can't enjoy the journey, why go?<br />
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Have an emergency? Call AFS. Or your liason. And if that fails, make sure you have a really awesome friend you can depend on. <br />
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Going to Spain? Madrid? Contact myself or other exchangers I've mentioned. We've got 'the book' memorized.<br />
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...forwards and back.<br />
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-mb<br />
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*Picture uploader is currently down...<br />
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Notes added 9/1/11<br />
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*Bring underarmer if you have it. It's small and something you don't want to have to buy.<br />
*Expect nothing. Take everything given to you as a gift. You'll never feel cheated or let down, but instead very grateful.<br />
*Change seats as much as possible in school. Sit next to new people. And don't worry about what people think of you. Even if you spoke perfectly and had the most "spanish" looking outfits- you are new. End of story.<br />
*ALWAYS have money on your phone for emergencies. Did I mention that?<br />
*Madrid kids should buy a 'A' abono transportation pass if they only plan on staying in the city. B1, 2, 3- C1, 2 are areas that cover cities outside Madrid and are more expensive.<br />
*Bring over a full suitcase/backpack. Bring over all that you are allowed. You want to avoid to buy as much as you can. But do NOT bring over 2 suitcases. That's what your goal should be to bring home.<br />
*Make sure your school understands what AFS is and why you are there. Some people have never heard of such programs.<br />
*Spain kids- you have to get a 'tuenti' account and USE IT. This is how people will talk to you and invite you to events. It's their try at a Spanish facebook, I know. But they finally got a 'like' button...[on most things]Mary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-31942011728267000102011-08-23T19:08:00.001-05:002011-08-23T19:15:04.735-05:00"Las Finales" by Jacob SpetzlerA big thanks to Jacob for making yet another awesome video. This shows the tail end of the year, starting with a timelapse of us in SOL- with the reflection of the glass exit of the Metro. (Me, Caroline, Jacob, and Alex) Following are some shots of the Basque Country, Madrid, the AFS group in the north, and our trip back..the plane, hostel, Swiss airport, etc.<br />
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<iframe frameborder="0" height="225" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/28042939?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" width="400"></iframe><br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/28042939">Las Finales</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/jacobspetzler">Jacob Spetzler</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
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Yesterday seems so far away...<br />
-mbMary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7022390847780998251.post-4888383618780589622011-08-17T21:55:00.003-05:002011-09-01T20:54:09.598-05:00Smoke and MirrorsOne of the most important rules to live by in Madrid is to get a pocket camera and take it with you, everywhere. Everytime you leave the house you better have that camera, because you never know what you'll run into. Adventure turns up in the most unexpected places.<br />
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I would describe this as a 'double take'. It something I've only seen in movies. Whether it's a car bomb, magic wand, or grenade, it's only been done by Hollywood before in such a civilazed location.<br />
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This was one of those 'double take' moments. Something that happens and you realize once again where you are...followed by the alarming wonder of the country's laws and regulations, rights, and any other crazy thing that crosses your mind when you aren't familiar with your surroundings.<br />
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Alright, so it was more like five or six takes...while at a cafe I looked into the mirror on the back wall...which showed nothing less than a van on fire. It took a bit to put two and two together. But yep, it was real.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">I miss Madrid. The excitement never ends.</div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQh4XBq9VZffW0Y2ojNJ8QoMAfXPI1Wu7dW2GtcffBwRnVYgy-9thxsU1magrzAYfLbDG5d_UKqm8if03tfZNWPkFy2kgFsbM9mLJ1GOv02oLw_g7FU50owoRkbTACuRpn2cnbgHKKq0/s1600/madrid1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQh4XBq9VZffW0Y2ojNJ8QoMAfXPI1Wu7dW2GtcffBwRnVYgy-9thxsU1magrzAYfLbDG5d_UKqm8if03tfZNWPkFy2kgFsbM9mLJ1GOv02oLw_g7FU50owoRkbTACuRpn2cnbgHKKq0/s320/madrid1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credited to Caroline Weldon</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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"Something tells me we should back up a couple of feet..."-CW<br />
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You should have seen that fire truck.<br />
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-mbMary Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15343905089879441567noreply@blogger.com0