So, I'm finally starting my blog, three weeks after leaving Saratoga. I wonder how you say procrastination in Spanish... Anyways, a lot has happened in my first three weeks away, and I want to share some of that with you. Exchange is an incredible thing and I am so fortunate to have the opportunity to partake in something like this. I have learned so much in just a short time and I am still learning and growing from all that surrounds me. However, growth requires challenges and hardships at times. There have definitely been good times and bad times so far, but all of it is part of immersing oneself into a completely different culture.
I left Saratoga on Wednesday, September 5th. The days leading up to my departure were extremely bittersweet, filled with the stress of packing and the intense sadness of leaving home, alongside the nervous excitement and anticipation of the adventure I was about to embark on. My last night with my family was a whirlwind of extreme emotions, and I am not ashamed to say I cried almost the whole evening, blubbering on my poor brother's shoulder as we said our premature farewell. It didn't help at all that I didn't finish packing until 1:30 in the morning, and then sobbed like I never have before in my bed until 2:30 am, when I finally collapsed into an exhausted sleep. The next morning I was awoken at 4:15 with a vicious slap from reality and the magnitude of what I was really about to do. I climbed into the car with both my parents and when we finally reached the airport, I greeted my best friend Rachel Menard, who is on exchange in France at the moment and was to attend the same orientation in New York as I. We approached the security line and I said two snotty, tearful goodbyes to my parents, knowing very well that it would be the last time we would embrace for close to 300 days. As Rachel and I made our way through the security line, lugging our 40 pound bags and sobbing in front of many staring strangers, I waved one last time to the people who had given me everything. Two people who had taught me, led me, supported me, who had ALWAYS been there for me and loved me unconditionally no matter what I said or did-- and I felt as though I was leaving a piece of myself behind as they disappeared from sight. Yet as I flew above the clouds, my heart aching and my head reeling with excitement, I knew I was in for something good.
Skipping over my two orientations in New York and Madrid, where I met some great people who I hope to have as friends for a very long time, it was time to board the train to my final destination-- Málaga, Spain. Two other students and I endured the seemingly endless yet way-too-short train ride to Málaga, where I tried to pacify the incessant feeling that I was about to projectile vomit all over the place due to the looming reality that I was about to meet the family I would be living with for the next ten months. I walked through the doors into the train station and saw them standing there-- Sara, my lovely host mom; Manolo, my way too cool 15 year old host brother; and Fernando, my comical 13 year old host brother. I kissed each of them on both cheeks, just as the Spanish always do. It was completely overwhelming and all too surreal, but I was so happy to meet my new family and commence my new life in Spain.
I will try to sum up my first few weeks here in as few words as I can. I can tell you that the unfortunate yet inevitable feelings of homesickness began the first morning I woke up in my new room-- before I opened my eyes I knew exactly what I was going to see. A white ceiling, then blue walls and a messy floor from preparing to pack. I was going to walk down the hall and greet my mother, who would already be cooking something for dinner and watching an unkown documentary or a random movie on Netflix on her computer, like she always did. I would say good morning and hug her, and when my dad came in from working outside I would hug him too, even after he refused the offer because he was sweaty. But I opened my eyes and looked around at my new world and knew very well-- Saratoga was a very, very long ways away.
The last few weeks have been challenging, no doubt about it. But the things I have already gained from being here absolutely outweigh the hardships. I have friends around my neighborhood and at
school. I am forming a great relationship with my host family. I have learned to appreciate the things
around here, but also things that I miss from the US. I have started to adapt to the Spanish culture and language. I am already starting to understand people much more, and I can hold conversations with my classmates and almost always successfully get my point across to people in Spanish.
I am so happy to be here, to be experiencing so many absolutely wonderful things all at once, to be in the midst of the experience of a lifetime. Hasta luego, friends. Much love.
I left Saratoga on Wednesday, September 5th. The days leading up to my departure were extremely bittersweet, filled with the stress of packing and the intense sadness of leaving home, alongside the nervous excitement and anticipation of the adventure I was about to embark on. My last night with my family was a whirlwind of extreme emotions, and I am not ashamed to say I cried almost the whole evening, blubbering on my poor brother's shoulder as we said our premature farewell. It didn't help at all that I didn't finish packing until 1:30 in the morning, and then sobbed like I never have before in my bed until 2:30 am, when I finally collapsed into an exhausted sleep. The next morning I was awoken at 4:15 with a vicious slap from reality and the magnitude of what I was really about to do. I climbed into the car with both my parents and when we finally reached the airport, I greeted my best friend Rachel Menard, who is on exchange in France at the moment and was to attend the same orientation in New York as I. We approached the security line and I said two snotty, tearful goodbyes to my parents, knowing very well that it would be the last time we would embrace for close to 300 days. As Rachel and I made our way through the security line, lugging our 40 pound bags and sobbing in front of many staring strangers, I waved one last time to the people who had given me everything. Two people who had taught me, led me, supported me, who had ALWAYS been there for me and loved me unconditionally no matter what I said or did-- and I felt as though I was leaving a piece of myself behind as they disappeared from sight. Yet as I flew above the clouds, my heart aching and my head reeling with excitement, I knew I was in for something good.
Skipping over my two orientations in New York and Madrid, where I met some great people who I hope to have as friends for a very long time, it was time to board the train to my final destination-- Málaga, Spain. Two other students and I endured the seemingly endless yet way-too-short train ride to Málaga, where I tried to pacify the incessant feeling that I was about to projectile vomit all over the place due to the looming reality that I was about to meet the family I would be living with for the next ten months. I walked through the doors into the train station and saw them standing there-- Sara, my lovely host mom; Manolo, my way too cool 15 year old host brother; and Fernando, my comical 13 year old host brother. I kissed each of them on both cheeks, just as the Spanish always do. It was completely overwhelming and all too surreal, but I was so happy to meet my new family and commence my new life in Spain.
I will try to sum up my first few weeks here in as few words as I can. I can tell you that the unfortunate yet inevitable feelings of homesickness began the first morning I woke up in my new room-- before I opened my eyes I knew exactly what I was going to see. A white ceiling, then blue walls and a messy floor from preparing to pack. I was going to walk down the hall and greet my mother, who would already be cooking something for dinner and watching an unkown documentary or a random movie on Netflix on her computer, like she always did. I would say good morning and hug her, and when my dad came in from working outside I would hug him too, even after he refused the offer because he was sweaty. But I opened my eyes and looked around at my new world and knew very well-- Saratoga was a very, very long ways away.
The last few weeks have been challenging, no doubt about it. But the things I have already gained from being here absolutely outweigh the hardships. I have friends around my neighborhood and at
school. I am forming a great relationship with my host family. I have learned to appreciate the things
around here, but also things that I miss from the US. I have started to adapt to the Spanish culture and language. I am already starting to understand people much more, and I can hold conversations with my classmates and almost always successfully get my point across to people in Spanish.
I am so happy to be here, to be experiencing so many absolutely wonderful things all at once, to be in the midst of the experience of a lifetime. Hasta luego, friends. Much love.
I admire you so much for your courage and willingness to embark on this incredible adventure! I'm not sure I would ever have the guts to do something like this, so I truly respect you. It sounds like you're having an incredible time and I'm sure God will bless you with many more priceless experiences. Love and miss you!
ReplyDelete-Sarah Tarter