pride

Being a Rotary International Youth Exchange participant allows for a lot of interpretations on the word pride. You have to enter a completely foreign culture with a sense of open-mindedness and humility, yet maintain the idea that you're a representative of the country where you were born and raised, you have to maintain that pride while not letting it overcome you and inhibit your experience.

Yesterday, I went over to my tutor Guadalupe's house so that she could show me her Christmas miracle (an ENORMOUS nativity scene that fills up an entire room with tiny statues and real running water, sand in Egypt and smoke rising out of the little houses in Bethlehem, Christmas lights with specific meanings to the colors running along it all, and Silent night playing overhead. I was blown away and she was overjoyed at this, if not by my reaction then by the creation itself, which takes her a month and a half to set up and she (obviously) enjoys a great deal, considering it's February :) and to dine on Spanish hot chocolate (which is way thicker and richer than ours... You literally can't drink it, it's for dipping things into) and cakes. Somehow along the way we got talking about American and Spanish healthcare, because everyone in Spain knows about the recent election in Massachusetts. This surprised me, I think if I took a poll of Americans and asked who the Spanish Prime Minister or King was, only a small percentage would be able to tell me either. It's really emphasized in schools here that you should keep globally aware. I like that.

Guadalupe is a very old fashioned woman and much of that is due to the fact that she's from a different generation entirely. She lived through the dictator Franco and is a really wise lady. She was also a mathematics teacher. Now, don't get me wrong, but the lady mathematics teachers that I've had have been no-nonsense and down to business, and Guadalupe is no exception. She's a kind, caring lady, but she has some very outdated views on the world and can be a bit infuriating at times. When it comes down to it, however, she's a dear and I do love her company.

She explained to me how ludacris she thought it was that American healthcare policies were still so radically different and far from reaching National Healthcare stability and security for all Americans. The Spanish healthcare system is, admittedly, different and in my opinion a great improvement on the American system. Rotary kids coming to Spain were required to purchase Spain's healthcare insurance before arrival and I can tell you firsthand what a blessing it has been. Though I've been fortunate and not been sick yet, I've had friends come down with a flu or a cold. Here in Spain, you call a doctor if you're ill and they make a house visit, or you can go to a clinic any time day or night without an appointment. They do an inspection and diagnose, write you a prescription which costs next to nothing, if anything at all, and send you on your way. It's all free, it's all simple, it's all taken care of. However, this does mean that the Spanish are very accustomed to taking a pill whenever they feel any little thing. I'll tell my host parents I'm going to lie down because of a headache, and they immediately pull out a drawer literally filled to the top with boxes of tablets. I'm not a big fan of that.

Being a member of two cultures is a great advantage in that it teaches you what pride can mean. I stubbornly defend my American culture on the issues that I believe in, but after having experienced a totally different manner of doing things in a different country, I can also learn to place my pride other places and accept the changes that could be made in the good ol' USA (or wherever it may be). No one place is better than the other... For example, America produces some of (if not THE) best films in the world, yet Spanish movie theaters are unbelievable in comparison. They are enormous and meticulously clean, seats are comfortable and it's rarely full because it's so huge. I went to see Sherlock Holmes with some friends on Friday and could have slept there I was so comfortable. Strangely enough, my recent running paid off that night as we ended up having to do an all-out sprint on the train tracks as one was approaching to make sure we reached the station. Absolutely hilarious, totally unforgettable.

I am Proud to be an American.
I'm also proud to not let that define or restrict me.
Besos, Sami



The marble countertop in the bathroom gave in (they've had it for 20 years) ... It's currently being supported with books


Here's that drawer full of pills I was talking about



SO SPANISH


The famous Spanish sun... I'll really miss how bright everything is here




Bea has been completely SWAMPED with projects for university and studying, she's studying architecture and this project of hers sits in our bookcase

consider yourself one of the family

"Consider yourself at home, consider yourself one of the family..."

I remember singing this in the car with my Dad when I was younger, as he was the star Oliver in a childhood rendition of the famous Dickens' novel. We never got far in the song, it was more of just humming a few lines, but I always liked the tune and I've found myself whistling it to myself lately. This, and a recent chapter in my Psychology textbook about the subconcious and unconcious and how what you're doing when you're not thinking about it can mean more than what you're actually doing, have led me to a recent and spectacular discovery.

Though life has been routine and normal here (as normal as it gets for an American living halfway around the world), I've made a significant shift. Talking with my family at night takes essentially no thought or work, things roll off the tongue and off my brain without effort and this change has led to an understanding between my family and I that's significantly different from before. I've been speaking bits of English as well, because Ana and Jacobo want to learn as much as they can while I'm here-- a fair trade, I'd say. Being able to express myself in English in a more natural way has also led them to see more of who I am in general. You'd be surprised how much vibrance comes back out when you don't have to put in the struggle before the words. Friends at school have commented on it as well, it's more than just a change in the language, it's an all around advance in attitude, it's a breath of peace and fresh air after five months of struggle. The funny thing is, I never did think I was stressed or struggling at the beginning, until I hit this stride, until I realized how much effort I'd been pouring into each day that's now transformed into efficiency and comfort.

I've also come to realize how much of a balance it can be for a host family as well. They're in charge of you, responsible for you, yet you're not their child and on top of all that you're 18 and legally an adult. How much can they really tell you to do? Where are those lines drawn without offending a different culture or a different family, how do you find an equilibrium where they're not just a renter in your house, but one of your kids? Taking all that in recently has also indicated something in my mind-- in this country where most of my exchange student friends have complaints and woes over host family struggles, I have nearly none, and the things that pick at me are things that I'm learning how to brush off anyways. They're not problems, they're just differences, things that come and go. I'd say my host family here has done a darn good job.

Will I still have tough days? Absolutely, there's no doubt about it. But as I pass my halfway mark here in Spain I'm finding myself letting go and holding on all at the same time... Letting go of the stress and holding on for what's to come. Travel starts soon, first to London on February 11-16 with my good friends John Linford and Mackenzie O'Connell. I think it's pretty ridiculous, by the way, that I can say things like, "Going to London in a few weeks, then off to Portugal a few after that, oh, and I've got Paris to fit in there somewhere"... Oh and I'm also nearly fluent in two languages. What kind of a fantasy life am I living?

Thank you all for your support and caring. It's January and we're in the upswing. My family in the U.S. has a family friend that's pretty sick right now, Dennis McNamara, I'd ask you to please keep him and his family in your prayers.

All my Love, Sami

Lo que será, será

What will be, will be.

That's the literal translation of the title of this post and I'm finding it to be incredibly appropriate. Contrary to the common, negative connotation that comes with this statement, I'm finding it to be more of a peaceful mantra as I weave my way throughout these weeks and months in Spain. The control is not always yours, the world isn't always yours for the taking, and things just don't work out sometimes. But what will be, will be. And it will all be alright.

I don't feel like a lot has happened in this past week, but when I look back on it A LOT has happened this week. First of all, I turned 19. Birthdays are not that big of a deal here, my 3 best friends on exchange all had their birthdays in November and December so we learned early on that a birthday is in many ways just like any other day, the one that you happened to be born on. It certainly doesn't involve a mother bounding into the high school in Spandex with a tray full of cupcakes for the entire lunchroom (... hmmm, now who does that sound like?). My special day was, nevertheless, still pretty darn special. I woke up around 1, like we always do on weekends here. It was the day after a holiday, so my parents were back at work. It was literally raining snow. I've got to tell you... You think that you dislike snow, until you live in Madrid and recieve, instead, freezing rain. It literally comes down in sheets and then either freezes, causing numerous accidents, or gets all slushy and mixes in with existing snow patches here and there and causes your boots to get thoroughly soaked. I met up with a few friends and went out for a local lunch... They got me the shoes that I've been seeking... Literally, they're just plain old Keds, styled after the 1950's. They're red cloth with a white rubber sole and I absolutely adore them. We went into Madrid later that day and did some shopping at the "rebajas". Similar to after-Thanksgiving sales, all the stores have their giant sales beginning the 7th of January, after Three Kings Day. I came home completely exhausted, forgetting throughout the day that it was my birthday, only to be reminded when I walked into the house to an overjoyed Jacobo and a sketch book with colored pencils, a nice drawing pencil, and an eraser/sharpener combo. This family got to know me pretty darn well, pretty fast :) I absolutely adored it. "Skyping" with the U.S. fam had to be done via Amber Woitalla as my parents were stranded outside of our half-mile-long tundra of a driveway, unable to reach the house or computer. Suspecting something of the sort at about 11 pm, I had my best friend Amber call my mother and we talked over the speaker on Amber's cellphone... Ahh, technology.

The next few days were spent in relative tranquility. My friend Robi's parents are divorced, she lives most of the time with her mom here in Majadahonda, but goes into Madrid occasionally to stay with her dad. I should take this opportunity to mention that separations are incredibly common in Spain... If you think the divorce rate is high in the U.S, you truly haven't seen anything until you've visited here. I'd say around half of my friend's parents here are divorced or separated (and, no, Mom, I'll save you the sassy comment and add that I have more than just 2 friends to make this observation upon). Robi has a biological brother named Rafa who I share a love of horror films with (we've watched many in Robi's comfy Majadahonda living room) and on Saturday night, I met her 3 step-siblings and fell in love.

Robi's biological mom is Spanish and her biological dad is Italian. Therefore, Robi was raised speaking both languages, and after her exchange year in the U.S. she now also speaks English. Her mom did not remarry, but her dad remarried an American woman named Judy Rose. They together had three children, ages 8, 5, and 3. The 8 and 5 year olds are boys and the little 3 year old is a girl. I'm going to attempt their names, but since they're Italian, I might butcher them. The 8 year old has a name similar to Michael, the 5 year old Giancarlos, and the 3 year old Alianna. Their mom speaks to them in English, they're learning Spanish in school, and their dad speaks to them in Italian, so they too are trilingual. Robi warned me on the way over to their apartment that the kids were a little insane.... A little insane was more than a little bit of an understatement. Maybe I just haven't been around small kids ALL that much, but after about 20 minutes, Robi and I both had to make ourselves espressos out of the machine in the kitchen. Not that this hysteria was a bad thing... I loved the chaos, brought me back to Grandma Colleen's house for a while. The kids all get along really well (something I've noticed and am now willing to make a generalization about Spain... Kids fight way less here. Not sure what to attribute that to haha) but there are motorized airplanes flying overhead while you're trying to eat a homeade pizza and the gelato-machine is running in the kitchen while the boy on your right is asking you about what sort of fighter boat you most prefer and the adults are politely trying to talk to you but there's a little one pulling on your sleeve wanting to go over Alphabet cards (in what language?!) and then the airplane crashes into the light and there's a great whoop from Dad and an eerie peace ensues.... Ah, chaos, how I've missed you.

All in all, I utterly LOVED Robi's house on Friday. I also think that Judy Rose appreciated having someone fluent in English to talk to, it's usually a great big mix of languages all flying around her, and I've gotta hand it to her in terms of composure and all around joy. Her kids adore her and she adores them right back. We finished the night (after watching a movie on the giant Megascreen which comes down from the ceiling and literally takes up an entire wall) with sloppy, ice cream kisses on both cheeks and big hugs and a promise to come back. I'll absolutely hold up my end of the deal.

Would you believe it? Sunday rolled around and as I was dusting off (literally) my backpack to get ready for school the next day, my mom strolled in and said there was no way we'd have school tomorrow. It had just begun to snow and she was absolutely correct. Because of about 3 inches of snow, school was cancelled on Monday (I'll reiterate again here that school isn't technically "cancelled", there are no official warnings, you just trudge to the building and if the teachers decided not to bother with the roads, there's no class that day) and I spent it tromping around El Parque Retiro (the famous "Central Park" of Madrid) with my two best American friends, Emma and Devon. We ate some Turkish Doner Kebab, drank some Starbucks and made an eventful trip through H&M that resulted in the purchase of a beanie and black nail polish.... I'm really starting to love these people :) It still smacks me in the face sometime when I leave a store or restaurant that I'm walking out onto the Main Strip, the Gran Via, of Madrid, Spain. It makes you catch your breath and smile to yourself, the incredible fortune and all the great things that surround us if we seek them out... Madrid is slowly, more and more, becoming my city.

School today was uneventful and absolutely freezing. They don't turn the heat on at my school until about 1 pm. We get out of school at 2 pm. Thanks for that, Carlos Bousouno. I explained that it's about -10 in my hometown and there's about five feet of snow in some places and my best friends (justifiably) teased me and told me to stop whining about a little rain and cold.... You know you're making some close connections when it gets to that point of comfort :) I picked up a few packages from the fam this week, filled with lovely things like cross stich, 7 bags of Reeses, a few cards, and a Jimi Hendrix print for my host dad, Javier. Responsibilities are starting to creep back into my mind again... "When is that financial aid form due? Wait... I'm going to college next year? Where will I sleep? Oh, that's what this form is for. Malt-O-Meal night shifts... Other options please :)?" Fortunately, I usually fall asleep before they pester me too much :) I'm not ready to grow up just yet, and I think Peter Pan would agree with me in my concept of letting things roll, What will be, will be, and I'm hanging on tight for the ride.

Hasta Luego, Sami.... All the photos are from the outing to Retiro Park... You'll notice the last one is me, being.... well, me. Love

Feliz Reyes

The Spanish are famously known as a stubborn people... And I'd have to say that Christmas is a perfect example of this persistence. The Christmas season that typically lasts 4 weeks in the United States, from the excited preparation after Thanksgiving Day to the last piece of wrapping paper picked up on Christmas Day, takes on a whole new meaning in Spain. We've now been in the Christmas Season for a full 6 weeks, with the culminating event happening this morning, El Dia de Los Reyes Magos, or the Three Kings Day. As I've mentioned before, The Three Kings bring the gifts to the children in Spain; they come the night of the 5th and we open presents on the morning of the 6th (I was MISTAKEN in previous blogs, I apologize!) so the Christmas magic is just coming to a close in Majadahonda, Spain.

There is, of course, a giant celebration to welcome the Three Kings, just like there's a giant celebration for everything. Yesterday, I woke up at 10 am (early by Spanish standards) and caught the bus and metro into Madrid to meet up with my friends Devon and Emma and head to Colemnar Viejo, a smallish town about 45 minutes outside of the city. We spent the early part of the day blowing up some thousand balloons and in the dreary, freezing weather, mounted onto the back of a truck (a float) and drove through the town in a giant festival of people dressed as anything and everything... From Disney characters to futuristic silver-painted Hippies with peace signs all over their float to a jungle-like Nativity scene with tropical plants, flowers, fake waterfalls, and the Baby Jesus all thrown onto the back of one pick-up. We threw candy at the thrilled kids (and sometimes overly-excited older people as well? ...) with open umbrellas and plastic bags to catch. It was utterly freezing outside but we didn't care, with thousands of balloons and candies and smiling faces, there was plenty of warmth to go around. We finished off the night with Rotary dining on the famous Spanish Hot Chocolate and Churros and then some exchange student friends, both new and old, headed into one of our favorite Thai food restaurants that's pretty cheap and delicious for dinner before rolling into bed at around midnight.

I haven't been woken up early for presents since Max and Lila were little (which seems like longer and longer ago each time that I think about it). This morning Jacobo came bounding into my room and asked if we could open presents. He's incredibly patient and mature for his age so he waited a full 3 hours since he got up at 8 am for the rest of the family to roll out of bed. 11 am is still pretty early for Spanish teenagers on weekends or holidays so we were all groggy-eyed and stretching as we headed out into the living room. Each person had a little pile of gifts from the Kings with a sign next to their name. I recieved some lovely presents and my family was thrilled at theirs, Jacobo giving me the traditional beso on my cheek and a bright-eyed "Feliz Reyes!!!!" as he had been wide awake for a full three hours at that point. We waited for the incredibly famous Spanish Christmas lottery that people wait in lines for hours and hours for and every household participates in, rich or poor, suspicious or not. We then set right to it taking down Christmas decorations and folding up the tree and setting the table for lunch, which I'm about to go enjoy right now. I'll be snapping back into reality in the very near future with school beginning on January 11. My birthday is tomorrow, and with how well I'm treated for every other significant event here in Spain, I know it'll be a good one :)

Feliz Navidad, Feliz 2010, Feliz Reyes, y Feliz Cumple a mi

Really packs a wallop, huh? :) xxoo Besitos Sami

Nochevieja y Feliz Año Nuevo

It was a night to be remembered. Ringing in the New Year in Madrid, Spain can't really be compared to any other experience I've had in my life. And it all started off with a bunch of grapes.

We retured back from Albacete to a relaxed couple of days before New Years Eve, which is called Nochevieja, literally meaning "the old night". We went to my Grandpa's house in Madrid (which is really a giant, 2 story apartment that he shares with his daughter Maria Cruz, her husband, and their two grown children). We ate a giant meal, nothing less in Spain, and then gathered around the television for the traditional Spanish custom of ringing in the new year. As each bell tolls to 12, you eat a grape, which are in prearranged packs, ours wrapped in tinfoil. I've seen advertisements for weeks on tv, however, for cans of 12 grapes, specifically for the occasion. Apparently, this task is supposed to be really difficult, you make a wish with each grape that you put in your mouth. I think they underestimated how large my mouth is, as I seemed to have no trouble at all-- I'm sure my mother would agree. Everyone then stands up and kisses everyone and wishes them a happy new year and we all gather for a toast. The family quickly dispersed, everyone gone by 1 am, but for Bea and I, the night had just begun.

We then proceeded to a hotel, where the entire bottom floor was set up as a discoteca, or a dance club. We met up with dozens of our friends, forming a giant group as we all madly danced the night away... literally. As is common in Madrid, we boarded the metro at 7 am and were back in Majadahonda by 8:30 am. Typically, you go out for churros and chocolate in the morning, and though we saw many people dining, Bea and I were both completely exhausted. We woke up at 5 pm the next day, our mom surprised that we even made it up that early. I don't go out to the discotecas all the time here, it's incredibly expensive and I'm a pretty low key person. But these nights of utter bliss make it all completely worth the price and the wait.

Shoes for the night-- eventually and inevitably replaced by ballerina slippers

My friend Mai and I

Lights and Lights in Madrid

I'm not positive what this building is for-- other than to be absolutley beautiful

visual aids

Sorry, these photos are chronologically backwards-- Bea Jacobo and I standing in front of an old building in Chinchilla

Jacobo playing on the view that overlooked the countryside

Chinchilla is famous for it's residents that live in homes built into the terrain-- Cave Homes

Bea, Javi, Jacobo and I in Chinchilla

Another view overlooking the landscape, the two towers in the back provide the signal for miles and miles around, it's unfortunate they're settled right in the middle of the historic little pueblo

Olives in a market in Albacete

The church in Albacete-- Can you spot me with the umbrella? :)

A famous strip in Albacete, behind the columns are little shops

The gates to the park in Albacete-- Yes, those are purple pants

Christmas Lunch at my Aunt Marisa's in Albacete, she's in the lower lefthand corner of the picture

The Christmas play at Christmas Eve Dinner at my Grandpa's in Las Matas. Mary & Joseph played by Pilar & Santiago

The Christmas Angel who stole the show

This isn't even the entire family-- All gathered to watch the play

The older cousins vegging after the giant dinner

Gathered in a circle clapping, hooting, and hollering for Secret Santa

Two of my younger cousins in their very Christmas-appropriate outfits holding their money from Grandpa

Recieving the gifts that the Three Kings hid after the giant hunt throughout the house