What we don't talk about when we talk about travel

Spain withdrawal is very real you guys. And while this may not come as a surprise to many of you, I was foolish enough to think that coming back wouldn't be too hard, not after seeing all my friends and moving into my new apartment. But classes have started, nearly all my boxes have been unpacked, and yet all I can think of is the bus ride from the metro stop to my host family's house. Or the sun burning you in Puerta de Sol. Or patatas bravas and meeting up with friends for a quick drink at our favorite places in the city. And instead of just saying vale and accepting that my life in Madrid is no longer my present, that it's my past, I'm going to point out a few things you should know if you're going to travel abroad like me. If anything, let this serve as a warning: if you go abroad, don't ever come back.

1. Reverse culture shock is real. What do you mean I have to wait another year to drink? What do you mean my meal is going to cost $12 for a measly salad? And why is this metro so dirty and smelly?

2. Let me be painfully blunt: Americans are rude. They (we?) will not all hold every door open for you and greet you with a smile and warm hello and you can just say goodbye to cheek kisses because that won't happen. Because Spaniards are so open, making friends in Madrid is as easy as breathing, whereas the chances of you befriending that stranger sitting next to you on the Metro in D.C. are about the same as Barack asking you to play with Bo and Sunny. Ain't gonna happen, bud.

3. Some people will want to know all about your three months abroad. And it will be so cool to be able to share your stories and maybe advise them on their study abroad or travel plans as well. But ultimately no one is going to remember that time you explained the concept of veggie burgers to a new friend or saw a man in his 60s smiling at a butterfly in the most endearing way possible or whatever because they weren't there. All you've got is months and months of memories that you value more than anything and no one to share them with because...

4. Chances are, no one cares. Sure, people will ask you how Spain was. But at one point, you're just going to be that kid that went abroad and is still ranting about things that the rest of your friends can't relate to. So you'll just have to shut up and accept that it's just you, your postcards, and the little snow globe you paid too much for because you knew you'd miss Madrid, that you'd feel alone about it, and that when you did, you'd want to stare at fake snow swirling around the statue of el Oso y el Madroño and pretend you were back there.

5. You'll lose a part of who you were abroad, even if just for a minute. You'll get sucked back into your routine of being stressed and focused on to-do lists and you'll try to pinpoint what about your life abroad made you so damn happy. You'll remember to take time for yourself, to create for yourself the moments of peace and clarity your time away gifted you. You'll learn to implement changes into your "D.C. life" that are inspired by your time abroad and in doing so, you'll realize you have the wisdom that comes from losing one part of yourself and gaining another.

6. You will connect with people based solely on the fact that they know your old city just as well as they do your current one. Today I spoke to a professor who had spent a month in Madrid this summer and who asked me what barrio I lived in. Just being able to use the same vocabulary, to meet someone who knew which McDonald's on Gran Via smelled weirdly good and which smelled just weird, who knew where Chueca was and how much ZARA should always cost—all of that, it reminds you that you are part of a bigger world and that you're not alone. There are people who love your home and know it and miss it just as you do.

7. And for the same reason, you will find even more ways to connect with old friends. Friends who know exactly how it feels to have a city change you, once while you're there, and again when you're forced to leave. And together you can get teary over holding old Abono Transport cards and looking at city maps and other incredibly unsentimental souvenirs. And again, you will remember that you are not alone.

The best three months of my life (thus far) are over and I'm still not over it, #sorrynotsorry. Any tips for coping with the post-Spain blues? Help yr girl out in the comments below.

Hasta luego!

~ V

Why saying goodbye is so difficult

{bus rides out of Madrid}

A few weeks ago, I was chatting with a friend from D.C. about study abroad. She was trying to decide between Spain and Thailand and wanted me to share a bit about my experience. She asked me what my favorite part about being here in Madrid was and I honestly didn't know how to answer. "Ask me again after I leave," I joked.

Sometimes I forget that a part of me, however small, is actually a teensy bit excited to go back. I have a semester of only classes I want to take, rather than courses for general education requirements I need to fulfill. I have an internship I'm looking forward to starting. I have all my friends and family and a new dorm room and my city. So it's not that I'm returning to a life that makes me miserable or even unhappy.

But the thing is, my time in Madrid has been everything I expected and then so much more.

Are you in love with your life? I'm not asking if you're happy, if you're not depressed, if you like your job and friends and house and car. I'm asking if you wake up every day genuinely excited to do things, whether they're part of your daily routine or adventures that are wholly new. I'm asking if you have fun, the way you did as a little kid, running around and screaming and laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

Because I really do love my life here. I love waking up and having breakfast in the backyard, where it's quiet and sunny and kind of cool and I have a blanket, a mug of tea, and a notebook. I love spending a couple hours with my host kids and feeling kind of like a kid myself. I love exploring my city every day without worrying about assignments or due dates or schedules and just seeing where the day takes me. And I love having dinners as a family and talking long after the food is finished about anything and everything.

And again, it's not that I don't have things about my life in D.C. or home in Jersey that I love, too.

It's just that I'm happy here. Really, really happy. Happy in a way that scares me, makes me wonder if I was almost living my life wrong before and if there are things I need to change, makes me wonder if this is too good to be true and if the way I feel will fade once I get on that plane back to Newark.

That's my favorite thing about this city—I'm happy here. I go to dance classes and spend weekends in new cities and buy too many things from ZARA and ride bikes for hours in the park and eat fried potatoes dripping in oil and slathered in sauce and I love it all. And it's not as though my life here is perfect; it's not and expecting it to be would be ridiculous. I couldn't go on being an au pair forever, and I miss taking classes and seeing people I love and going to a Taco Bell that has vegetarian options. And sometimes it really gets quite lonely. But things don't have to be perfect to make you so happy it hurts.

The thing is, I don't have to deal with a lot of the crap that makes me unhappy at home. There are no stressors, be they social or professional or academic. And that's taught me what I need to cut out of my life now, how I need to develop a better outlook on my future, and how I need to better deal with stress related to school by taking time out for myself to just sit and think and breathe. But even beyond the fact that I don't have any stress here, it's also that I get to learn something new every single day. I'm constantly growing and learning and progressing and it's wonderful and invigorating to feel such a change in yourself and your life.

The takeway for me here is that there are so many changes I want to implement in my life in the States, to add what is needed and subtract what is not and to thus allow this experience and its influence to spread beyond these twelve weeks, beyond this city and country and continent and who I am in it. And I plan to do just that. But keeping all this in mind doesn't make me any less reluctant to go, doesn't make it any easier to let it all go.

But I'll be back for you Madrid. I'll be back before you can forget me and before I can forget who I am here. I'll be back and this time—it'll be for good.

~ V

15 Things I'll Miss About Madrid

Tomorrow is my last day in Madrid, the end of best summer I've had yet. Knowing that it's almost over makes me think of all that I'm sad to say goodbye to. Here are 15 things I'll miss about Madrid.

1. The free time. I've read so much while I've been here and finally got around to starting Game of Thrones. And when you spend three hours a day sitting on or waiting for a bus or train you have free time to sit and think and reflect, which I hardly get to do during the school year. If I'm at my internship I think about work and otherwise I am constantly thinking about school or homework or my to-do list. It's nice being completely stress-free for a change.

{window}

2. The weather. The lack of humidity in Madrid is well worth the heat, especially for my hair. And the incredibly hot summers here are always better than winter. I love fall, but it doesn't make me happy to let this go.

{gardens}

3. The location. Madrid is in the center of Spain, so it's easy traveling to other cities or to Portugal, and the rest of Europe is a relatively short flight away. I visited thirteen cities in twelve weeks, and value this more than I can explain.

{playa}

4. The people. Madrileños are known for being abiertos, open and welcoming. They are so friendly, especially when compared to the experiences I've had in many other European countries, and they're one of the biggest things I love about this city.

{palacio}

5. 100 Montaditos. I'll miss this chain of cheap eats. How am I going to get a jarra of cervesa and a mini sandwich for less than $3 at home?!

{la Reina Sofía}

6. La Reina Sofía. This museum is one of my favorite spots in the entire city and I've visited it nearly ten times in these past twelve weeks. It's absolutely beautiful and I'll miss escaping the heat for a couple hours in its endless halls.

{Picasso forever}

7. Speaking Spanish every day. I've practiced my Spanish so much here and I definitely think I've improved. And living in Madrid goes so much beyond what you can learn in a classroom; the lingo, the jokes, the culture—I learned all of that here and I'm sad I won't get the same level and type of knowledge back at school. 

{my life in Spain}

8. The streets. Madrid's architecture is absolutely gorgeous and often varies from one barrio to the next. There's beauty everywhere I go and I love it.

{catedral}

9. The balance between city and nature. Madrid has more trees than people and the mountains that surround the region provide a gorgeous escape. I'm not just looking at concrete all day and since I'm happier around nature, I've appreciated this so much. The summer also brings with it brilliant blue skies and I've loved watching clouds pass while just sitting in the park. Beyond this, Madrileños value plantlife more than Americans, and homes often have dozens and dozens of beautiful plants. And getting to see the stars here at night is nothing compared to what I can see at home. 

{cascadita}

10. Cheek kisses. Here in Madrid, we greet each other with two cheek kisses and while this made me nervous when I first arrived (I was convinced I was going to do it wrong somehow!), I've come to love how sweet the gesture is. A friend and I were people watching a few weeks back and saw two groups greet each other. Every person in the group cheek-kissed every other in a group of maybe ten, and it was endearing to see them all take the effort out to personally great each other. 

{Plaza de España}

11. Having a pool. In a city this hot everyone has access to a pool in the summer, whether it be in their backyard or in a community. As someone who never had a pool as a kid, having access to one now has been so much fun, whether I'm spending hours playing with the kids or even just floating around and listening to music by myself.

{dedos}

12. The cost of living. Madrid is incredibly cheap when compared to Washington, D.C. or even my small town in New Jersey. I've been eating out, traveling, and shopping so much more than I can back in the States and am not completely thrilled about going back to being a broke college kid.

{recorriendo}

13. Learning something new every day. My weekly posts don't cover the full extent of how much Spain has taught me. I can't possibly write down every new word and phrase and cultural difference and similarity and moment that has made me grow, and this experience goes beyond what words can convey.

{la luz}

14. Not being obsessed with time and productivity. I know that the relaxed nature of my life this summer has been due in part to the au pair role and dynamic, but there's no denying the fact that Spaniards are better at looking at things such as time, schedules, leisure, and productivity. There's a greater emphasis on living a balanced lifestyle here, while my life in D.C. features the constant pressure of needing to be productive. If I'm not working or studying, you can bet I'm planning my to-do list in my head, trying to tackle all the things I feel like I absolutely have to get done. The only time that pushy little voice in my head shuts up is when I'm distracted by Netflix or a night out with friends. I'm going to miss this sense of leisurely fulfillment, when your days aren't packed completely to the point where you're constantly worried about fitting everything into the few hours you have in a day, but you still have enough to do so that you're not bored or unsatisfied or restless or unfulfilled.

{una de las cuatro torres}

15. My family. I have been so incredibly fortunate to find a host family that is as incredibly kind, welcoming, and considerate as mine. They are all so warm-hearted and I've felt completely at home here. I value my relationship with them so much and while it makes me incredibly sad to think that I won't get to see them every day anymore, I know I have a visit from them to look forward to.

{tonterías}

Ultimately, I'm reminded how lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so difficult. Hope you are enjoying the last days of summer as well!

~ V

I'm never leaving Spain.

Today, after our last language exchange, I said goodbye to Javier and decided I was really craving patatas bravas and patatas aioli. So I walked over to a bar I had passed a hundred times, a little hole in the wall that seems like only really old people ever visit, the kind of place that hasn't been renovated in years and is dirty and old and vintage in an unironic way. And I went in and ordered the best deep fried potatoes slathered in sauce I'd ever tasted and was sitting there writing about things on my mind about Spain and leaving and learning and loving and all off a sudden I was trying not to cry. I'm 20 years old and it is in no way socially acceptable to cry in a bar in the middle of the day—especially not with only a glass of water and fried potatoes by my side. 

But I just didn't want to leave Spain and felt overwhelmed by the feeling that I was being forced to do so against my will, forced to go too soon before getting a chance to learn all that I have to learn. And what do you know, the universe decides now is a good time to play "Uptown Girl" on the crappy old TV in the bar, the kind that is too old and big to even be hooked up on the wall. And mild spoiler alert if you haven't seen Trainwreck (in which case, please get on that ASAP) but "Uptown Girl" is ~v important~ and ~eMoTiOnAl~ and I couldn't believe it was playing right at that moment. In the film, the song plays at moments of emotional upheaval and catharsis (by which I really just mean an 80s movie-esque musical number and confession of tru luv) and here in real life it played at my moment of kind of freaking out over having to leave and trying to hold it together in public. And I just stared at the TV and started laughing a little bit, and while I don't think my laugh was full-on maniacal in a somebody-get-this-girl-a-straightjacket kind of way, it must have been a little bit concerning guessing by the way the elderly couple sitting behind me me smiled at me sadly on their way out. 

And because I'm apparently a masochist I decided to listen to "Vienna" on my way back, and while I really don't understand why Vienna is waiting for me or what good it's going to do when it's Madrid I want, I do know that I've got so much to do and only so many hours in a day and only four days left at that, so that's where I'm at right now.

I mean I guess I should go back and finish my undergrad and see my friends and family or whatever. I'm just not going to pretend that leaving doesn't absolutely suck. Any advice for yr girl on dealing with this feeling? 

~ V 

Week 11: Five Things I Learned This Week in Spain and Portugal

This week was absolutely fantastic. I went to Portugal, celebrated my twentieth birthday, and went to my first bachata class. I'm kind of in denial about the fact that I only have four days left (!!!), and I'm trying to enjoy my time here without worrying about when it will end. Here's what I learned this week:

{street art, Lisbon}

1. Lisbon is perfect. Lisbon might be my favorite of the fourteen cities I've visited this summer, not including Madrid because I just can't make that comparison. Lisbon reminded me a lot of San Francisco, with its hilly streets, red bridge, cold water, and vibrant atmosphere. The weather was an incredibly perfect 80 degrees, a sharp contrast to nearly everywhere else on my trip, and I spent two days on the beach (and have a ridiculously pink sunburn to prove it) and my evenings wandering the city. Lisbon is so incredibly beautiful and I can't wait to go back.

{dusk}

2. What it's like to turn 20—alone. I've never celebrated my birthday alone. I'm always around family and as long as I'm in the country, I spend time with friends as well. But at this point in my trip, all the au pair friends I've made have already left and rather than spending the day with strangers, I decided to celebrate my twentieth alone. And while I don't think I'd ever actively seek spending my birthday alone, I ended up having an amazing day and am glad I got to experience it at least once. I visited all my favorite spots in the city, ate all my favorite foods, and fit in a lot of shopping. After a particularly filling lunch at a new Thai restaurant near Atocha, I ended up walking around and spontaneously buying tickets to see Trainwreck. I'd never been to the movies alone and had wanted to do so for a while now and again, while I don't think I'll ever actively seek out going to the movies alone, I know I won't feel afraid or awkward to do so in the future.

{rickshaws!}

3. That being said, Trainwreck is brilliant. The film features cameos from comedians like SNL cast members, Dave Attell, Colin Quinn, and Mike Birbiglia (and several athletes too, if you're into that kind of thing) and the jokes are the kind of laugh-out-loud funny where you have to check to make sure you're not laughing too loudly and bothering the others in the movie theatre. I absolutely love Amy Schumer and Bill Hader, and although the romance tale between them was predictable, I still found it adorable and liked that the film delved beyond the standard rom-com by featuring issues like fear of intimacy, alcoholism, etc. And more than anything, I love that the film was non-apologetically feminist and didn't ever slut shame. Do yourself a favor and watch this movie, please.

{Lisboa}

4. What youth looks like. In all seriousness, I know I'm not old. But turning twenty means that you're not a teenager anymore, and as a friend pointed out, this is the decade where so many of us will be starting our careers, getting real apartments, maybe even getting married and/or having kids. It all still feels incredibly far away (thank god), but I met a girl on the eight-hour bus ride back from Lisbon who reminded me that maybe it's not as far as I thought. Manuela was sixteen and incredibly energetic and vibrant and she reminded me of how I used to be. (When did I get so old?!) She was incredibly open and talkative and told me all about her family in Colombia, her puppy, and her dream of becoming a veterinarian. We bonded over being vegetarians, which is nearly impossible in Spain, and our loves for Lisbon and Madrid. She was adorable and hilarious and reminded me of the qualities I hope to keep from my ~youth~.

{Lisboa Oriente}

5. Parque Juan Carlos > Parque Retiro. It's amazing to still be discovering new spots at this point in my trip and this week I went to Parque Juan Carlos I. It's off to the edge of the city, and while it's incredibly close to where I live, I never thought to make the trip since it's never mentioned on any travel websites or anything. And although it's not as iconic or old as Retiro, I think it's absolutely beautiful and provides more shade and scenery without the big crowds. You can rent bikes and even go on a train ride—all for free—and there are tons of really cool modern art sculptures, a greenhouse, and a dedication to Spain's three major religions—Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. If you're in Madrid definitely don't leave without making a trip to this park.

{Cascais}

All in all, this week was one of the best I've had this summer. Hope you enjoy the rest of yours! Here are a few more pictures from my trip to Lisbon:

~ V

Read also:Week 1, Week 2, Week 3, Week 4, Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, Week 8, Week 9, Week 10

Travel Abroad: Loneliness and Togetherness

{Madrid at dusk}

Coming to Spain has made me realize how sometimes travel can make you feel quite lonely. You go off into the world and have experiences and interactions and thoughts that educate and change you—to whatever degree, big or small—and the people from the places you call home won't always understand what you've learned or how you feel. But at the same time, one of the most incredible things about traveling is connecting with absolute strangers. Whether its new au pair friends I've made, or tourists admiring the same view, or even people with whom I've shared a Blablacar (people whose names I didn't even know!), there are so many moments in which I have felt that I've learned something valuable from someone or that someone new has understood me exactly and it's fantastic.

Last weekend I used Blablacar, an amazing car-share program that D.C. needs to start using ASAP. My ride into Valencia went smoothly; all the people were kind and we spoke a bit about the differences between Madrid and America. Javier, the owner of the car, was the only one who had been to America. A few years ago, he visited New York and absolutely hated it, saying that everything was boring compared to Madrid, that the food wasn't good and there wasn't enough life in the city. And while I'm not the biggest fan of New York City, I'm pretty sure we can all agree that's a load of crap. 

On the way back to Madrid though, I had an unexpectedly fantastic time. Beforehand, I was a bit nervous about the fact that I was going to be the only girl and only American in a car with three other older men, not knowing if they spoke any English or what to expect of the four hours together. But just minutes into our ride we had begun talking in a way that wasn't just forced small-talk. Alfonso was from Spain, but had lived on the American West Coast for a couple months. We alternated between Spanish and English, bonding over loving California and needing to revisit the Grand Canyon. I told him a bit about what college life in America is like and he told me how he plans to visit the East Coast next time. The other two guys—a lawyer from the Dominican Republic and a systems analyst from Colombia—and I then talked about loving Game of Thrones and shared theories on who was going to die soon (Sansa, let's hope) and who would survive. 

I also met another person from Madrid this week who had been to the West Coast. He had liked his visit to the States a lot, but told me he found that Americans differ from Spaniards in that they live their lives being more lonely and helpless, as being desamparados. 

It's obvious to me how incredibly open people are here in Spain; in every city I've been to, everyone has been welcoming, gracious, and kind. They're all patient with my limited Spanish-speaking abilities and don't treat me with the sort of anti-American prejudice that I've experienced in a lot of other European countries. So it's not impossible to see why a Spaniard would classify Americans as desamparados, lonely and alone in an almost helpless way. The word carries a deep, heavy sadness that Google translate doesn't fully explain, but I can see how this makes sense; as Americans we tend to do our own things. We pride ourselves in our individualism, our personal success stories. And we should. If you know our nation's history and culture, it makes sense. But after coming here you sort of realize what you lose when you become so focused on the self—a sense of communal well-being, a sort of belonging, and the feeling that you can count on each other and trust one another in a way you wouldn't always do in America—especially not in a big city, especially not in the North.

And in a way, travel sort of counteracts this American sense of being desamparados. You meet people and connect with absolute strangers whose lives are so different from your own and you bond over things as simple as Game of Thrones or whatever and it's just so incredibly amazing to experience that sense of universality, of belonging. To sit in a car with three total strangers, people you wouldn't have ever met had you not made the decision to go to Spain, to visit Valencia that weekend, to take that exact Blablacar back. It's serendipity, but not in some overwhelming, in-your-face kind of way; instead, it's a simple reminder to appreciate the little things in life, the small moments, and the idea of belonging to a world and community bigger than you and your sense of self.

And of course, it's a reminder to keep traveling; you wouldn't have met these people and had this conservation and this moment of real happiness where you're just laughing and genuinely grateful for the moment and driving past sunflower fields and an old Alicia Keys song that you're embarrassed to say you like is playing on the radio and there's not one thing about this moment you would change. And as painfully cliche as it sounds, this is really living you know? Putting yourself out there in these situations where you just have these serendipitous moments of connecting with total strangers. Dancing lessons from God, man.

For a while, I had been feeling like something was missing. I just felt like I needed more or wanted more or worse—expected more. I don't know exactly what changed this weekend or what void was filled but I don't feel that way anymore. I'm satisfied and happy and grateful and don't want to leave.

But with that being said, it's important to acknowledge that in a sense, travel can be quite isolating as well.  At first, you're just getting to know new people and learning to find your way, and it's sort of like the loneliness of your freshman year of college; you've made all these friends but they're still new and you aren't as close to them as your friends from home. And at the same time, your old friends don't know this new life you have and all the things that make it up, while your new friends do. And all of these new experiences and people sort of form a barrier between you and the friends and family you have back home since they just don't know this whole side of your life yet. Because when you go on a trip like this, whether you're studying abroad or becoming an au pair or simply moving to another city in another country for a couple months, it can be a bit isolating. Because ultimately you're the only one that's part of those two worlds, the one who has been formed by both of them and has been changed by the experience. 

The thing is, in my case I've always had Alana. We've been friends since our sophomore year of high school, so she knew me before GW and D.C., so she knows me in relation to that one world, but at the same time, she's met all my friends at GW, too. She knows where I buy my groceries and where I go out with friends and what late-night monumenting is like. She's my bridge between my two worlds. 

This time I don't have a bridge, but I'm nothing but grateful for it. I have all these moments and people and places that are my own. Of course there are millions of people who have walked in the same streets I have, who know the strangers I've befriended much better than I do. And I even have friends who have had similar experiences to what my summer has been all about. But at the end of the day, I'm part of a world that so many of my friends don't know about and I'm okay with it. Because even though you are sometimes alone, it doesn't mean you are desamparada. 

~ V