The Brave, the Strong, the True, revisited

"Do you get that feeling in your stomach--"
"You mean nervousness about the flight?"
"Yeah...and leaving Spain and getting home and exam and everything..."
I pause.  There it is, the feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Check in for your flight.  Print your boarding pass.  Is your carry-on too big?  What if you over sleep?  You still need gifts for so-and-so. Did you even get that question on your grammar exam correct anyway?  You probably should have studied more.  You see Nathaniel in two days!  etc etc. 

The list goes on and on.

"Yeah. I got it..."  I shiver, and make a face at my friend.  "Maybe I want some cola-cao.  Do I want some cola-cao?"
"Come on.  How many more times are you going to get to order Cola-Cao in Spain."
"True."  I grin, and get up to order.

•••

Its my last day here in the beautiful city of Granada, and I have literally no idea how that happened.  It seems like its always been tucked around a curtain, out of sight, gradually peeking out.  Then, suddenly, its hovering above me.  And I am literally at a loss of how to react.  So I'll put that off, and instead talk about what what this time has given me.

This blog start off about courage.  About what my mom saw in me.  Her daughter, the brave, strong, and true, and me having no clue what she meant.  And then I learned so much more.  I learned about humility and what it meant to be a world citizen.  I learned about patience.  There was lesson upon lesson about perseverance as I woke up every morning, and no small bit about forgiveness. I learned to open my heart to people, even when I knew I would have to say goodbye.  Possibly forever.  I learned to face the new and strange, and find the familiar in it.  I lost myself here, and I found myself.  And I learned what was more important to me than anything.  What and who I loved more than anything.  The people that I missed, that I wept for, was in the first part my family.  I had no idea just what my family meant to me prior to this time apart from them.  And I had to idea of the strength  of their love for me either.  I mean, I did, but not quite in this way.  Now I can't wait to get home to tell them just how much I love them.

But in the end, I also discovered a strength within myself.  A strength I never knew I had.  And a courage I had never known.  Moreover, I found a truth about myself.  At the end of the day, Im really just a nice girl, with big dreams, from a small town, and the most important thing to me is, and always will be my family.  So I guess mom was always right.  I really am her girl, the brave,  the strong,  and the true.

Faith, Love, and Advent

Something I've been thinking on this past month has been about faith and Advent.  Advent, the season in which we wait for the coming of Jesus, also happening to occur in the same few weeks when waiting to go home has been the hardest.  This kind of hit home for me...that in those moments when I felt impossibly and infinity far away from everyone and everything that I loved and loved me, this was symbolic of the impossible infinity between God and his people before Christ came.  That there was a giant chasm between the love of God and his people.  But even that chasm could be crossed.  God's people waited and waited and waited for the Messiah, and then he came in the form of a child.  That child took our pain and sorrow and sin, and died for it, closing the infinite gap between God and man.  This semester there were times when I knew my family and friends loved me back at home, but I couldn't feel it. They all just seemed to every far away.  Infinite and Impossible.  But I waited and waited and waited.  And in the time with the birth of Christ, I also will be reunited with my family and loved ones, just as the birth of Jesus reunited God with his people.

So this Christmas is especially poignant for me.  In a way, I understand the profundity of Advent and Christmas even more than before, because I know the feeling of being so very far away fro my family, the patience it has required, and the faith I needed.  Somedays I needed to hang on solely to the faith that the semester would reach an end, and I would see my Mom and Dad and brother and home yet again.  I clung to that faith like a lifeline.  And thats the meaning of faith, isn't it?  "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, and the conviction of things not seen."  Its believing in that scrap of hope even when everything around you says otherwise.  And sometimes it doesn't have to be logical.  But its one of the strongest things in this world, carrying you through the storms of life.  I know that faith in my family, and their love, got me through the harder times here abroad.  But it was my faith in God that carried me even further.  Now, with Christmas rapidly approaching, I have come appreciate even more what it meant 1) for the People of God to wait for the Messiah, 2) what it meant for God to be divided from his children, and 3) what it meant for Christ to leave the glories of heaven and the Father, to live among us and bridge the impossible gap.

So in this season of Advent where we await the coming of Christ, in the second coming, in our hearts, and in his birth, I give thanks.  Thanks for the love I've been shown by my family, thanks for the love of my God, because he has been faithful to me.  Even when home seemed so far from me, I was comforted in the knowledge that I was never truly far from Him.  And now I only have a week left of waiting when I shall be reunited with my family.  And to some people that may not seem like a Christmas miracle, but it is.  Because I know that I could not have come this far, learned so much, grown so much, without faith and His faithfulness to me.  And that really is what Advent and Christmas is about.  God's faithfulness, and ability to cross the impossible boundaries.  We are never really alone.  Never really lost.  Never really unloved.

...Rejoice, rejoice Emmanuel shall come to thee oh Israel...

Touching Lives, and Saying Goodbye

The folks of Central College Abroad!
(plus my brother and german sister, and my moroccan host family)

"There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed.  Some forever not for better.  Some have gone, and some have remain.  All these places have their moments. With lovers and friends, I still can recall.  Some are dead and some are living.  In my life, I've loved them all."

-In My Life, the Beatles. 

Maybe I've been getting a little sentimental of late.  Then again, I tend to when things are wrapping up: the school year, breaks, camp season. Because, inevitably I have to say goodbye to a whole bunch of people.   Some I know that I will see again.  Some I probably will.  And still others, I will only ever see again if fate decides it so.  So as I prepare for another round of goodbyes, I'm taking the time to think on all the people that have entered my life lately, and all that they have taught me.  And I guess this is a shout out to all of you, a chance for me to say thank you, I miss you/ will miss you. 

The absolutely wonderful staff of Beaver Cross

I have met a lot of people in the last year, all kinds, from all places.  I've studied with them, sang with them, ate with them, worked with them, prayed with them, traveled with them, explored with them.  Each place I've lived, in the mountains of Marlboro VT, in the close knit community of Potsdam, in Staff Lodge of Beaver Cross, and in the bustling streets of Spain, the people around me have touched my life.  I can only hope that I have returned the favor in some way.

They all have their stories, things about them that make them totally unique from everyone else in the world.  And everyone has taught me a thing or two.  The fun times and the memories we made all equally important as any lessons.  All the trips for frozen yogurt, an experience I have had the pleasure of sharing with friends from upstate NY to Granada, Spain.  Hiking and water fights.  Exploring the Alhambra or getting shwarma at 3 am. Coming up with an a cappella arrangement on the fly.  Or just simply sitting the library late at night.

Marbl-bros

This has been a pretty big year in my life.  I've traveled and visited four different countries: Turkey, Spain, Morocco, Germany.  This is the first year I didn't live at home over the summer.  I've attended a different school each fall since freshman year: Clarkson, Marlboro, Centro de Lenguas Modernas Universidad de Granada.  While in my head, I might still feel like the little girl holding her mother's hand, I'm not.  Well...a part of me always will be that girl, but I've grown. And in no small part due to the people that have surrounded me.

In the many walks of life I've seen lately, I can say that it will always be the people that are the most memorable.  The things they have to say.  Their stories.  Their hope and dreams.  Fear and secrets.  We are all so fearfully and wonderfully made, that each life is a miracle in itself.

there's no place, and no people, like home

So... all these places have their moments, with lovers and friends I still can recall...In my life, I've loved them all.

Sitting on the Roof of the World

As my journey reaches its end, I feel like this song sums up my time in Spain.

"I climbed a mountain, not knowing that I had
Thought it was just a point from A to B...

And there I was, sitting on the roof of the world,
there I was, with all the gods,
not knowing how I got there or how to leave...

people say, whats so special about being back here, with everyone so close,
Thats the point.  I don't want to be different, I just want to fit it.

There I was, there I was, sitting on the roof of the world
there I was, with all the gods,

not knowing how I got there or how to leave..."

These words, though not explaining my experience verbatim, touch on some key points.  This semester was a mountain for me to climb, and now that I am at the top, I'm still not quite sure how I got here.  And I find that two weeks (to the day) until I board that plane a little to soon.  On the other hand, when friends ask me why I can't wait to be home, they don't understand how close I am to the people there, to my family, my brother.  I almost needed this experience to discover what things in life really matter.  In the words of a classmate of mine, "when you are in another country, you really find out who you are."  And in discovering that, I also found out what really matters in my life.  

Before this experience, I thought that studying abroad was just something you did in college.  It was a good idea, one gains good experiences and language skills.  Since I started studying Spanish when I was 14, I just knew that fall semester of my junior year in college, I would study in Spain.  So last semester, I knew it was time to look for and apply to a program.  It was a never a decision I made, and I am not even sure I wanted to.  I just knew I had to, in this world I had created inside my head.  

I saw it as just a point from A to B.  

But it had been so much more than than.

So now Im sitting in a café, countries and ocean and hours away from everything that I love and hold dear, sitting on the roof of the world, and I find myself at a loss of how to really leave.  Its oddly surreal.  Even more so knowing that life at home can't possibly be exactly how I left it.  There are new people at my family church, who don't know me at all.  One of my best friends is getting married.  My brother is even taller.  And life at Marlboro, that surely will be different as well.  I will be in my second semester of my junior year, having to preparing for senior year.  New students will be on campus, students who don't know me, and yet are friends with the friends I left behind.  And yet other friends won't be on campus, graduated or studying abroad.  So there is no going back.  Not really.  That doesn't mean that I can't wait to see each and every face I've missed, the lights of my small town a lit for Christmas, the snow covered Vermont mountains out of the library windows at school.

So in two weeks, I will take a taxi, to a bus, to a plane, to another plane, to the waiting arms for my family, with the knowledge that I'd climbed mountains.

A few thoughts on the last few weeks.

The count-down begins.  Well, to be honest, the count down began some time ago, but with the three weeks in between me and my eighteen hour journey of a day home, its very real.  In my head, three weeks still seems like a lifetime.  That possibly has to do with the oceans and countries, and classes and projects and exams in-between as well.  This week will be the longest though.  Once I hit two weeks, thats when time will race.  Thats when I will suddenly have to study for grammar and arabic classes, still want to get that last taste of churros, and still somewhere have time to shop for Christmas presents and never mention packing!  (Im trying to pull off a magic trick where I go home with less luggage than I came with...I'll let you know how that goes.)

But after struggling for several weeks with an irrational fear of tragedy striking and never seeing my family ever again, Mom reassured me that such fears aren't unheard of.  In fact, they are just an expression of love.  Real, deep, longing love.  And I guess I must just miss my family more than I had previously thought.  Don't get me wrong, I do love Granada, and this has been and amazing experience, but as the holiday's approach, with Thanksgiving this Thursday, the first Sunday of Advent this Sunday, and Christmas a mere four weeks away, I am feeling that missing part of my life even more keenly with each passing day.  I can also feel the Potsdam snow on my nose, and see the lights that light up Market Street.  I can smell the evergreen boughs decorating the church windows and hear the squeals of delighted children, the piping of the organ and the singing of the choir.  My brother and friends all talking at once in the din of the parish hall as we stuff our faces with food we all brought to share for Christmas Eve dinner.  I can see the twinkling fairy lights of the tree, and the furry paw of the cat trying in vain to tear ornaments from the branches.  And everywhere the whiteness of the snow that blankets the ground.

But somehow, the more I close my eyes to imagine it, the further away it seems, reminding me of one of the things I am terrible at: living in the present.  Look at the city around me!  A city that in a few weeks will be gone to me, and I surely will miss.  Live in the moment, and enjoy it, and the time will pass.  But the further ahead I look, the slower everything seems to take.  So I breathe deeply, take sip of cafe con leche, and dig into my exams, and enjoy my last few weeks.

(flash to the past...memories anyone?)

Even so...the song "I'll be home for Christmas" has an entirely new meaning for me...

Sevilla

Also this past weekend, we went to Sevilla, which might be my favorite city I've visited in Spain thus far.  We walked through the ancient Jewish neighborhood, to the city center, saw the cathedral, went to Starbucks, walked along the river and through the city, went to the Real Alcazar, and Plaza de España (affectionately, Star Wars plaza, seeing as scenes from Attack of the Clones were shot there).  So here's a photo tour through this beautiful, old city.

These pictures are the interior and exterior of the cathedral in Sevilla, also once a mosque.  Notice the difference in architecture between the tower on the right from the style on the rest of the cathedral and especially from the interior of the cathedral.  The layout of the interior was strange to me, because I couldn't immediately tell where the altar was.  Regardless it was a beautiful building.


As I said, we also had our Starbucks fix for the month, which allowed us to meander through the streets of Sevilla.  We saw street performers, a Christmas market devoted to selling only nativity scenes, and all kinds of people.  Once in Starbucks, the small group of friends I was with found about half of the other students in our program there as well.  Seems everyone had the same idea; something comforting and familiar in the still strange, and yet wondrous new world.  Then to the river it was.

It was strange, walking along palm tree lined rivers and roads, while reading Facebook statuses from home about snow, wind chills, and general cold.  Thats not to say it wasn't chilly in Sevilla, or even in Granada now for that matter (at this very moment I am curled up under multiple fleece blankets, comforter, plus my trusty Granada sweatshirt).   I also was on a clumsy streak that day, tripping over my own toes and nearly every uneven edge in the sidewalk.  Truly graceful.

We walked all over the city center, down major streets and tiny alleys.  We chatted, we laughed, we took in the sights.  Sometimes when Im traveling I prefer just walking around to straight up touring.  You get a feel for a place that way.  A feel for its culture, both present and past.  A feel for its people, for its tourists.  For its food.  (bakeries anyone?)  Sometimes I learn more from a city just walking around and looking at the people filling the sidewalks and the buildings lining the streets, using my senses, than touring.

 Some places really are worth taking the time to tour though, such as the Real Alcazar, palace and gardens.  Yet another sight where two cultures and religions come together in a single sight, seeing as both the Christians and the Muslims occupied it.  The gardens of the Alcazar are magnificent, full of palm trees, roses, bushes, streams, and man-made ponds (complete with fish).  Apparently some people get married there.  It certainly is a photogenic spot!

Inside was, again, a mixture of european and islamic culture.  For example, I once again found myself surrounded by tile art.  I can't seem to get away from it!  In the words of one of my friends in the program, "You love you some tile art!" But also there was an entire room covered with rugs depicting maps of Spain, maps of Europe, and maps of the world, as understood in the time Ferdinand and Isabella.  Also courtyard that predated and inspired the Alhambra, but then the room where the Spanish court met and talked about the Americas.  All in the same place!

Our last stop of the day was the Plaza de España.  We basically stopped to see it and take pictures.  It was beautiful, and I can see why it was used as the patio scene of planet of Nadal in Attack of the Clones (not a very good movie, but hey, its cool to see where a movie was filmed!).  And great for photos!  At the end of a busy, fun filled weekend, it was nice to watch the crowds wander around taking pictures.  One strange thing did happen.  As a group of us girls all stood together getting our picture taken, some tourists noticed, and decided they wanted to take our picture too.  Not for us.  For them......?  So, in all, Sevilla was an exciting trip and beautiful city to see.

Hey!  Its my job!  

and underground water supply
from the real alcazar
...and now wishing well

Córdoba

When I traveled to Istanbul, Turkey last March, and saw the Hagia Sofia (a museum that was first a giant Byzantine church before the Ottomans conquered Constantinople in 1453, then became a mosque), I became deeply disconcerted.  I found it disturbing that one culture could entirely take over a previous culture's worship space, scrubbing it clean of any sign of the previous faith, carving out greek lettering and crosses, white washing mosaics, removing the alter, and replacing them with entirely new symbols.  I expressed this feeling to my professors, and aware that I was going to Spain this fall.  They told me that I needed to visit the Mezquita de Córdoba, to experience the same affect, but from a different point of view.  And since then, all anyone could tell me was to go see the Mezquita de Córdoba, that it was beautiful and magnificent, but also strange, due to the presence of a baroque cathedral smack dab in the center of it.  On Saturday I finally saw the Mezquita and experienced the out of body feeling brought on by walking into a cathedral from a mosque.

There are four sections of the mosque, not including the cathedral.  Three are made of pillar after pillar holding up these red and white arches.  The enormity of it is impressive.  It just goes on and on and on.  Every direction you look, all you see are arches and pillars.  Eventually, though, it changes.  The mihrab, pointing to Mecca, the holy city of Islam, decorated in gold.  I found myself thinking about Turkey, about how this Mezquita compared to those I saw on that trip in March, how it was similar, and how entirely different.  The art, the architecture.  And yet, the same religion, coming from the same root.  They were under the auspices of what we call "the Islamic Empire", but the Ottomans, coming along a few hundred years later, were a very different culture.

And finally the moment came that people had been preparing me for since I saw the Hagia Sofia.  We walked from the shadowy reds of the ancient mosque into the white light of a small baroque cathedral, overbearing in ceiling carvings and paintings.  It was as though I had stepped into an entirely different world.  It was so different, unreal almost.  When the Christians conquered Córdoba, they didn't even build a worship space that fit within the atmosphere of the existing space.  No, this was jarring.  Discordant.  Confusing.  And I feel like I would have appreciated the cathedral more if it wasn't inserted in the middle of a former mosque.  The other parts of the mosque that are now Christian, as in side chapels used for weddings, prayers, confessions, etc, feel much more appropriate, all designed in darker stone and red velvet.  It appears very much in a tradition catholic atmosphere and yet does not clash with the ghosts of an ancient past.

My professors who led the class trip to Turkey were correct.  The Mezquita gave me a lot to think about.  More than I could in one day, and I still am processing it.  One thing that stood out strongly for me though...The Mezquita de Córdoba is a symbol of the multi-cultural history of Andalusia.  Spain isn't all about tapas or bull fighting.  Its about all of it.  And then some.