being pensive

When I set off to study abroad in Sevilla three years ago, I decided to really buckle down and make a conscious decision to start a journal... and to not succumb to my characteristic laziness. Surprisingly enough, I actually managed to write in it at least once a week... and I'm glad I did. I like to sit down and relive almost getting stranded on a Greek island, spending my first 4 days in Spain with no luggage (it was sitting on a trolley in an airplane hangar at the La Coruña Airport), fending off Spanish suitors and a slew of random and documented communicative issues, such as telling my Spanish mom that there was no more soup in the shower (oh come on now, which one looks more like the word for soap: sopa or jabón?)

Last year, when it came time for round two in Spain - this time in Madrid - I hopped on the technology train and decided to replace pen and paper with a blog. In its conception, good ole Bepsi Cola was meant to serve as a journal-esque type of chronicle which would allow my friends and family to keep abreast of the happenings in the life of the international superstar that I am... and also to quelch any worries that I may have fallen in with the wrong crowd and - to feed my crack habit - was making a living turning tricks on the corner.

However, the whole "journal" idea lasted approximately 2.2 seconds. Why? Because living in Spain for the second time was never really about brand-new, ground-breaking experiences. The first year was all about visiting Europe for the first time, seeing my first "real" cathedral, grimacing at my first bullfight, experiencing my first European soccer game, trying new food (never one of my fortes in the past... when I was 14 it took my dad 40 minutes to get me to taste manicotti), living far from home, integrating into a family of strangers... not to mention the whole language thing.

The second - and now the third- year in Spain has pretty much morphed into a life of the typical day-to-day "stuff" that I knew in the US. Everything that makes life what it is - inside jokes, workplace grumblings, relationships, friendships, bad moods, favorite restaurants, playing sports, grocery shopping - is the same, it's all simply transcurring on a different geographical pinpoint on the globe.

My "new" experiences are things that, frankly, excite only me and aren't necessarily worth of describing it for friends and family: discovering a new favorite candy (the red ones with the white stuff inside) or yogurt (Vitalínea, peach-flavored), following work-out vernacular at the gym's spinning class, or finding out the Spanish equivalent of something completely random and not academic (a "butter face" in English, i.e. a girl who is hot and attractive everywhere but-her-face, is apparently called a "shrimp" in Spanish, because you eat everything but the head).

Somewhere along the way, Spain stopped being a visit. Instead, it's just turned into finding a niche for myself in which I can thrive, be comfortable, be happy and see that happiness enduring. There is no ultimatum in the foreseeable future at which it will all end... no bought plane ticket with a set date and time printed on it... no "next semester" to get back for. I can do whatever the hell I want, and that is - for lack of a more eloquent expression - pretty damn rad.