self-directed spirit fingers

So, I have to admit: I’m actually terrified about living in Spain. Terrified, perhaps, isn’t the right word… apprehensive? The thesaurus says “itching” — not quite what I had in mind. I lived for nine months in Ecuador, which was almost a complete disaster (well, let’s call it ¾ of a disaster) and I’d rather not re-live it. I wouldn't NOT go to Ecuador if I could re-do it— I became wonderfully close to the people from Linfield that I studied abroad with, but that doesn't mean I want another nine months of unhappiness—even if it was a good learning experience.

This time, though, will be different. I’m not living in an overcrowded city of 2 million people; I’ll be working in towns of 5,000 and 800 people, and perhaps living on the beach (living arrangements have yet to be arranged). Instead of an hour-long one-way commute in an overcrowded, possibly dangerous (although always interesting) bus, I’ll be riding a bicycle less than 5K down a road that winds through orchards and cacti. Instead of being 5,000 miles away from a single familiar soul (excepting the people I was studying abroad with), I have three other friends who are going to be living in Spain, two friends in Germany, one friend in Austria, one friend in Belgium, one friend in Denmark, two friends in Italy, and family in Norway that I can visit whenever the going gets rough (assuming I find really really cheap airfare). Along with having friends that I can visit, those friends will be coming to visit me! My family is also coming to Spain, so the eight months will have lots of friendly and familial interludes.

Another factor in my favor this time around is that instead of being an exchange student in a university so fractured that the Ecuadorian students could hardly get along with each other, not to mention with the hordes of international students that invaded their Laguna Beach-esque campus every semester, I’ll be working in an elementary school and a high school, and I’ll be the one teaching, so I should have some semblance of control—or so I imagine. I’m also coming home for Christmas—I am not spending another Christmas abroad—so instead of eight straight months, I’ll be there for only three months before coming home, and the spring semester will only be five months long. I came home for Christmas when I was at college—why can’t I come home for Christmas now that I’m out of college? I believe that summer jobs are supposed to pay for winter fun (and food, and plane tickets home), so I’m going to be freely spending my hard-earned cash with one whopping check to Delta.

All of those reasons stacked together make a powerful argument for why I’m going to be much more successful at living abroad this time around.

Oh! I almost forgot! The last and best reason is that I’m not going to be living with a whacko host family that watches better sex videos for family bonding time, nor will I be living with a host family headed by a father who gives three-hour post-dinner lectures on how black people, indigenous people, people from the Coast, people from the Amazon, people from Asia, Jews, Palestinians, Middle Easterners in general and Columbians are inherently not trustworthy. The one hitch to my plans for future happiness is that I’m not exactly sure where I’ll be living yet, but at least I know it’s gotta be better than the last go-round!

I know that every new experience has its ups and downs, and just because I’ll be living on a Mediterranean island doesn’t mean that I’ll be in Paradise the entire time. However, I’m thinking positively right now, sending myself spirit fingers, and to boost my morale I’m listening to the genius of Billy Joel (ignore the last line… it rhymes nicely, but please don’t take it seriously!!)

Gotta call from an old friend, we used to be real close

Said he couldn’t go on with the American way

Closed the shop, sold the house, bought a ticket to the West Coast

Now he gives them a stand-up routine in LA…

They will tell you you can’t sleep alone in a strange place

Then they’ll tell you you can’t sleep with somebody else.

Ah, but sooner or later you’ll sleep in your own space

Either way it’s ok; you’ll wake up with yourself.

I don’t need you to worry for me ‘cause I’m all right,

I don’t want you to tell me it’s time to come home,

I don’t care what you say any more; this is my life,

Go ahead with your own life, leave me alone!