What Color Looks Like

{los Palacios Nazaríes}

I've spent a lot of this past year thinking about depression. There are times in which I wonder if I've ever been depressed, while in others I question if I always have. I know that winters are always hardest for me. Without even getting into the emotional aspect of what the winter does to me, I know that I lose motivation and drive and passion and I'm always drained; I'm just not me. This winter was particularly hard, the worst it's ever been, but since I've never talked to a professional about it, I'm reluctant to align my experiences with any labels, so whether my depression is seasonal or not, or whether it even is depression, I don't know. But the way this manifests for me, the way the experience functions and affects my life, is multidimensional and spreads in ways I have trouble putting into words. 

It's hard to get that distance from yourself, to find a sort of clarity where you feel like you're judging yourself objectively and fairly and accurately. And when it comes to mental health, it's even harder. But one big thing beyond the motivation and beyond my general outlook on my life and my future and my friends and everything else around me, is color. I know I'm depressed when things begin to literally look bleak. The grass isn't as green, which is funny because it's both literally and metaphorically true. And beyond the fact that all colors lose their vibrance and brightness, I also can't see things clearly or sharply. It's like there's a film in front of my eyes and I can rub them all I want and even get new glasses but at the end of the day all I have to do is wait for summer, wait for the depression to pass. 

And every summer, it's the same. I go through the same patterns over and over. First I'll be walking around town or driving on the highway and all of a sudden I'll notice how the greeness of the trees is so insanely bright. It's so vibrant and in your face that I'll think it's just the way the sun is hitting at that hour or I've had too much coffee or I'm just high off of Vitamin D. But then it'll keep happening. I can't tell you the amount of times I stopped to look at the different types of flowers on my visit to the Alhambra this weekend. Have you ever seen a purple so bright? A red that popped so much against a green so vibrant it looks almost comical, cartoon-like? And then I remember, this is what colors actually look like. And I realize wow, I was more depressed than I had thought. 

And then I start noticing how much more alive I am. How much more I feel and how much more deeply I am affected by beauty and happiness and moments of peace and contentment.  How much more I value sunsets and spending time with the people I care about and watching hours pass in the backyard with my notebooks and pens and pencils, just writing or sketching or whatever. I appreciate it all more and I'm able to value it and think about it and feel it on a deeper level than I'm capable of in the winter. I'm more passionate, more me.

So I don't know if this is all in my head or if I'm depressed or never have been or still am. But I do know how summer makes me feel, how the sun makes everything a thousand times better. And I know that it's a matter of time before I slip back into that again, that sort of bleak darkness. Winter is coming. And sometimes it worries me. I'm not ready to let go of all this yet. It seems like I just got the sun and all that comes with it. I just became me again, and knowing that it's all going to go away in a matter of months makes me sad and a little scared.

But at the end of the day, I think I'm okay with it. What's the good without the bad? How much would I appreciate the summer and the sun and the heat if I didn't have winter to compare it against? Maybe it's not completely healthy or wise to be okay with it, okay with whatever winter does to me. But for now, when I'm running high off of endorphins and adrenaline and Vitamin D and Spanish air, I'm just going to take a moment to appreciate this: how much and how deeply I feel about everything in my life right now, how much this experience has meant to me and has affected me, and more than anything—how damn happy I am. 

~ V

Week 10: Four Things I Learned This Week in Spain

{view from la Alhambra}

This has been the fastest and best summer of my life. It seems like I say that every year, but in all honesty, I can remember every day I've been here in such detail that it seems impossible that three whole months have passed by. While the last days of summer are always the sweetest, I'm never quite ready for the season to end and having to come to terms with leaving Madrid and Spain really isn't making this any easier.

{el Generalife}

1. Separation anxiety is a thing. Really, though—I'm not ready to leave. There's so much about my life in Spain that has opened my eyes and made me think: the differences in the ways children are raised here, the importance of history and the rich and deep history that Spain has, the differences in women's issues between the now three countries I call home, the ways that race is regarded, etc. These are things I haven't even touched upon in my posts here, but that's because I'm still learning; I would never want to put a half-informed observation on here, never want to risk offending any one person, never mind a whole country and culture that I'm not yet a part of. I learn so much every day that I'm here, even on the days when I go about my routine of spending the morning with the kids, having lunch, and hitting up the same cafe and shops in the city center. But as much as I have learned, I know that my journey isn't finished—I still have so much more to learn to gain from here and I seriously CAN'T leave. You see that right? I HAVE to stay here longer. I'm basically obligated to. Realistically I'm fully aware of the fact that I can't stay here any longer (at least not without a visa), nor can I just take a semester off of GW to continue being an au pair in Madrid. In all honesty though, knowing that doesn't make leaving any easier.

{Casa de Zafra}

2. Goodbyes are a bitch. I have gotten so incredibly lucky with my host family that it almost feels too good to be true. My host parents are so considerate and accommodating and always go out of their way to make sure I am comfortable and happy and that I am getting the most of my experience. They've taught me so much about Spanish history and culture and have endless recommendations and words of wisdom. The amazing thing about the au pair-host parent dynamic is that they're not completely authority figures in the way that parents are; they're like cool, older friends who know so much but still get where I'm coming from and what it's like to be nineteen and want what I want. Mine are both such incredibly intelligent and kindhearted people and I've had some amazing, fulfilling conversations with them. Real, good conversation is one of the most valuable things to me and I've appreciated everything they've done for me, every opportunity they've provided for me, while I've been here. I'm so sad to be leaving them and to not know when I'll see them again. 

And let's not forget the kids! I've learned so much about them these past ten weeks and I mean, you can't help but grow to love them. They're incredibly sweet and adorable, even at their "worst." They're both going to grow up to be such amazing people and it hurts to think I won't get to see it happen. It's impossible to live with such an amazing and inspiring family for three months without getting attached, and I expected as much coming in. I just didn't know it would hurt so much to leave. Would it be a tad bit clingy if I moved in forever and never, ever left?

{view from Mirador de San Nicolas}

3. Being a romantic doesn't make you hopeless. Javier and I were discussing how dating differs across countries and cultures and we got to talking about flattery and compliments. He taught me the words halagos and piropos, which describe excessive, flirtatious flattery, used when a suitor tells the object of his/her affections that he/she is beautiful or smart or funny or whatever. I told him how behavior like this can sometimes be not only annoying but also offensive. Why use words you don't mean? Why ruin them or debase them or devalue them by using them when you don't fully and completely mean the sentiments they convey? If you tell someone that you love them you (hopefully) mean it. In the same way, why call someone beautiful or kind or inspiring or funny if you don't mean the compliment in the fullest and most sincere way possible? And this goes beyond romantic relationships, too. We should use our words consciously; otherwise we risk doing an injustice to the words themselves or to the people we share them with. And in the case of my conversation with Javier, the excessive nature of using words all willy nilly detracts from the very compliment, turns it into something that isn't the simple act of one person offering a kindness to another, one person expressing their interest for the other. It's an insult to words and an insult to the person you're throwing them at.

Javier responded by laughing and saying that if he thought a woman was beautiful he was going to tell her; if not, he sure as hell wouldn't tell her she was ugly. I laughed and told him that was besides the point—the issue is when you use words you don't mean one hundred percent, when you throw around compliments and words of love and affection when they do not fully or accurately reflect your true feelings. It's dishonest and insulting. We're all adults here. There's not need to feed each other sugarcoated lies, sweet and meaningless compliments. Javier just looked at me and smirked. He explained to me, in Spanish, that he thinks the issue here is that I'm a romantic.

{hello MTV, welcome to my crib}

I looked at him and scoffed. Me? No way. I mean when you grow up on a diet of Disney and Bollywood, you can't help but have a certain appreciation for fairly tale romances. But then you grow up and mature beyond that. I sometimes joke that any bit of romanticism I hold is balanced with just as much cynicism.

But after I explained this to him, he pointed out that I clearly valued sincerity very, very much, that honesty and truth in words and sentiments were important to me. I couldn't disagree; I'd said as much myself. But he pointed out that the world doesn't exactly work that way. I nodded. This was true, too. He just looked at me and told me to be careful, that "alguien puede hacer mucho daño," meaning that someone could easily hurt me, and that I should remember that life doesn't work the way I wanted to. After all, not everyone regards and values words and their usage in the same way.

I was shocked. Javier barely knows me. Our conversations barely skim the surfaces of our strong opinions and beliefs; the most interesting thing Javier knows about me is that I don't eat meat. And while this is particularly rare and "exotic" in Spain, it's not exactly some groundbreaking truth about my soul.

{Palacio de Dar al-Horra}

And yet here this man was, clearly having figured out something I wasn't too happy to know about myself. But I guess just because I'm a *shudders* romantic doesn't mean I have no hope, no control, no sensibility. I don't expect the world to be a better place than it is and I don't live my life with some idealistic hope and vision of what it should be. I know what I want (in this case, for people to value words as they deserve to be valued, and to recognize the weight that they hold) but I'm not so blind as to think that my dreams are reality. So I guess this is me coming out in the open as a romantic. But hey, it's okay because any sense of hope you throw my way I'll be sure to knock down with a healthy dose of cynicism and skepticism. Because I'm no Carrie or Charlotte; I'm Miranda, goddamnit.

{bus ride to Granda}

4. Granada is perfect. I went on my second solo-travel trip this past weekend, and while Granada doesn't have a beach, it is an amazing city. I lucked out with the weather and managed to avoid the stifling humidity that's common in the South during this time of the year, and I found a pretty good hostel and cheap bus tickets. I spent my days in Granada exploring the Alhambra and other monuments around the city, walking through the most beautiful streets, and eating at great cafes and bars. My favorite thing about Granada is definitely the architecture. The city is characterized by its Islamic historical legacy and you can see the Spanish-Muslim influence everywhere. I loved letting myself get lost in random streets all over the city and just appreciate the unique houses and buildings everywhere. And because the city is so hilly, I got to see some amazing views, extending from the city outskirts all the way to the mountains.

{check out the hands on this one}

I have two weeks left and plan on finishing everything on my Madrid bucket list this week. That way, my last few days in this city will be spent just redoing my favorite things rather than rushing to fit everything in. Hope you are all enjoying the end of the summer!

{Casa del Chapiz}

{merienda at a cave in Sacromonte}

{jardines}

{el Bañuelo}

{el Generalife}

{more jardines}

{la Alhambra}

{la Alhambra}

{outside el Palacio de Carlos V}

{la Alcazaba}

{Partal}

{exploring los jardines del Generalife}

{Corral de Carbón}

~ V

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

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

Week 9: Five Things I Learned This Week in Spain

{la playa}

The sadness is starting you guys. Just a few days ago, I was complaining about what I would do to fill my time here. My routine was beginning to feel monotonous, especially when all the au pair friends I made here left and I had to sort of start over making new ones. And here I am, with only three weeks left and already sad about all the goodbyes I'll have to say to the people and places in this city I've called home. I've started focusing on what I'll miss so that I have time to especially appreciate it and fully come to terms with having to leave. This way, I (hopefully) won't be a tear-stained mess at the airport, and I'll be able to leave without any regrets. Here's what I learned this week:

{Atocha}

1. Poetry jams are freaking amazing. While I've taken some creative writing classes in which we've had to read our work aloud, I've never actually gone to a poetry reading. This past week, I went to one in the city and absolutely loved it. Most of the poems were in Spanish, and while I could glean the meanings of most words and the overall project of the poem, I knew I wasn't getting all I could out of the experience. That is, until the last poet went up on stage. This guy was just amazing. He performed his poems in a way that was unique from the other presenters, relying on music, pop culture references, and even humor in his pieces. He spoke in half English, half Spanish, and kind of yelled and sang his words rather than saying them. His words didn't sound hokey or forced or pseudo-intellectual or like he was trying to play the role of some tortured artist; it all worked and all the elements of his performance blended so well together. To give you a better idea of his performance, his first piece on the Age of Information included references ranging from Hannah Montana to Ulysses, while his second was performed to the beat of "We Will Rock You," and required the audience to get involved. I'm definitely going back before I leave (hopefully this week!), and I'm going to start going to more poetry jams in D.C. when I get back.

{wandering Valencian streets}

{streetlights in Valencia}

2. Traveling alone. Friends have been recommending solo travel to me from the start, and because I feel so safe in Spain (even without a cell phone that has internet access!) I decided to give it a go. I went to Valencia this weekend, and while the beach itself was quite dirty, I had such a great time. I woke up when I wanted, ate whatever I felt like, and I did what I desired. It sounds so simple, but it's more liberating than you'd think, and as much as I love traveling with friends or family, I definitely want to travel alone more often. I didn't feel lonely even once, and I loved being able to take in the city at a pace and level that fit exactly what I felt like in the moment.

{perfectly blue skies at the beach}

3. Speaking Spanish. I only just realized this week that I won't be able to speak Spanish every day when I go home. I don't have room in my course load to take any more Spanish classes, and of course I won't be able to walk the streets of D.C. and greet every shop owner and server in Spanish. Doing a language exchange has helped me so much and when I'm back in D.C., I'm really hoping to meet with a fluent native speaker who I can speak with for a couple hours a week in just Spanish.

{beautiful balconies}

{Valencian architecture}

4. The importance of having time to yourself. When you live on a college campus, chances are that you don't get a lot of "me" time. I generally spend my days around my roommates, drowning in piles of textbooks (or let's be real, spending hours skimming through Buzzfeed articles), at an internship, or out with friends. And when I do have a few moments alone, I tend to waste it catching up on TV shows or reading crappy books to distract myself from how stressed I am, rarely letting myself just sit down and think and enjoy time by myself. And as much as I love everything about my life back home, sometimes it's nice to break away from the bubble that is your college campus or your city or even your friend group. It's nice to be able to take a step back and just reflect on what matters to you and who you are outside of your setting. And when you have a commute that forces you to spend three hours a day alone and inside your head, you get to think, a lot. I've done so much reflecting about myself, my goals, and what's important to me and it's been huge for me. I've had some breakthroughs and a whole list of things to focus on for this upcoming school year, including but going beyond just the academic. At first I used to resent my stupid bus schedule. Missing one bus can sometimes mean waiting one or even two hours for the next. But now, I really value it. It's amazing to have time to reflect on your day as you return home, or on your weekend after a trip to a new city. While I won't have that when I go back to D.C., I'm now going to make a more conscious effort to really unwind and think, rather than using TV or books to cope with stress.

{puffy clouds at Nuevos Ministerios}

5. What home feels like. I used to go to India every other summer and I would straight up bawl at the airport each time I arrived and left. When I left, it was because of all the family I was leaving behind and because I didn't know when I'd be back (especially considering it's now been six whole years since I've been to India), but when I came it was because I just felt an overwhelming sense of home. I don't consider myself to be an overly-romantic person, but the idea of feeling so incredibly connected to a city in which you're nothing but a tourist, in feeling such a sense of home and belonging and love, of it hurting because of how much it means to you and how happy you are to be back—all of that is just so sentimental. And now I miss India every day, and it seems like as more time passes the more often I think about it. The streets, the corner shops, the smells (both good and bad), the dogs, the homes, the heat, the smell of the freaking rain. It just hurts because of how much I want it and how long it's been since I've had it, especially since I'm so connected to it. I was born in Bombay, but there is so much more to why I think of it as home.

And now that I've been in Madrid and I'm so incredibly aware of the little time I have left, I'm starting to get that sadness. How long is it going to be until I step back on Spanish soil? How many years am I going to be haunted by memories of everyday, mundane details of living here to the point where it hurts? I knew before I came here that I was going to fall in love, but I think at the back of my head I always regarded this as a sort of romantic idealization of a country I knew nothing about; I didn't take myself too seriously. And for a while I thought I was right; for a while I worried that I expected too much of this trip, more than any place can offer a person. But here I am, with only three short weeks left (even midterms are longer than this!) and I'm sad because it's going to hurt not only when I leave, but for weeks and months and years after. And I know it will, because it already does.


It took me less than a month after moving into college to call D.C. home, but I don't think until I missed it as much as I do this summer that it ever fully and completely became home. I starting longing for my city and my monument runs and my cafes and my friends and my cupcakes and my metro the way you do when something truly becomes yours. But all I've done while I've been here is just breathe the city in. I've had hardly any responsibility and when you don't have an internship and a full course load taking up all the time you have to think, you get to relax and just open your eyes and take it all in. I love this country and damn it, three months just isn't enough.

{driving through miles of sunflowers}

I'm struggling to cope with the fact that I leave so soon, but I'm more motivated than ever to make the most of my time here. I hope you guys enjoy the rest of your week!

{arriving in Valencia!}

~ V

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

Week 8: Three Things I Learned This Week in Spain

This past week I decided to take a break from travel and to instead focus on better appreciating the city around me. I enjoyed a relaxing weekend, several days in the pool, and spending time with friends. Here's what I learned:

{Puerta de Sol}

1. The best way to learn a language. I started learning Spanish my freshman year of high school, and with the exception of summer breaks and my first semester of college, I've been learning it since. While I still don't think I'm completely fluent, studying a language for six years makes a huge difference, and I hoped that coming here would help even more. However, I spent the first several weeks I was here kind of frustrated with my Spanish and feeling like I had hit a bit of a plateau; after learning all the necessary grammar in school, all I really needed to work on was my accent and the difference between the Spanish you speak in class and colloquial Spanish. But in between practicing with my host parents and speaking with strangers in the city, I didn't feel like I was improving at all. After coming back from Italy, I realized my Spanish really was quite good, and that the first four weeks in Spain actually did make a small difference. Since starting my language exchange, I've developed more confidence in my ability to speak the language and I've even learned a bit of slang that I would never have learned in a classroom. That being said, I think the best way to learn a language is with a balance. I've learned Hindi and Gujarati only from family and movies—never in a classroom—so there's only so much I know, only so many nuances of grammar and vocabulary and structure that I'm able to understand. At the same time, there's a limit to how much understanding that a classroom environment can provide you with when you're learning a new language, and coming here has helped me to realize that.

{gluten-free cupcakes from Celicioso}

2. A new reason to appreciate Spanish. Last summer, I went to Honduras with some family friends and while I was there, I spoke a bit of Spanish with one of the locals. He was incredibly kind and patient with my limited abilities, and even complimented my accent. I was confused at the time; as a non-native speaker, I don't really have an accent that binds itself to any Spanish-speaking country and I've always felt that if I want to be considered fluent, I have to speak as a native speaker would. Javier, my language-exchange friend, has complimented my Spanish multiple times, and each time, I tell him how I still don't feel like I speak well enough and that I still think my accent needs work. 

I've always been fascinated by the diversity of the accents that accompany the Spanish accent, especially that of the Castilian accent here in Spain, and I've tried to recreate that lisp of the letter Z and that harsher, throaty sound that comes with the letter J. But conversations with my host parents and Javier have made me realize that my accent isn't "wrong," nor would it be more "right" if it was traditionally Cuban or Mexican or Castilian or whatever. When you speak a language that's been spoken for thousands of years across over twenty different countries, there isn't one right way to speak. Sure there are differences that mark you as more correct in one country than another, differences that involve diction and pronunciation and even the way you address others (tú versus usted), and while for many these differences mark country of origin or nationality, for me they mark my history: I use "vale" because I've lived in Spain, I will use usted (once I'm back in America) because that's what my teachers have taught me to do, I will manipulate my accent to reflect what I find aesthetically appealing or colloquial effective or even personally significant. When you speak the Spanish language, you get to appreciate all these nuances and intricacies and that makes me love it even more.

{sometimes sunsets hurt because they involve pie bombs}

3. Why sunsets hurt. I've only mention this in passing, but the sunsets here are amazing. I saw a sunrise on a trip I went on with my AP Biology class in my junior year of high school that I still remember. It was the first sunrise I'd seen over the water, without any buildings to mar the horizon, and I still remember the way the clouds brought out certain shades of pink and orange and yellow in the sky, and the way the sky and its reflection in the water changed from before the sun had even begun to rise to a whole hour after. Photos don't do sights like these justice so you try snapping a couple pictures but ultimately you just give up and appreciate the view in front of you, trying to commit it to memory. 

That was nearly four years ago and now, if I time my bus ride home just right (the sun sets around 9:30-9:45), I can catch the most beautiful skies nearly every night. And I've been here long enough to realize that the views are different leading up to and after the summer solstice so that you end up with a whole spectrum of sunsets, each with a spectrum of colors itself. You have rainbow sunsets, where the surrounding mountains appear to be a dark indigo and the sky right by them is a bright red, which bleeds into an orange, with becomes a yellow and in between this and the blues you get at the very top, there's a small strip of subtle green. Then you have your cotton candy sunsets, where if you have the right type of clouds (cirrostratus for all you physical geography nerds out there), the setting sun creates strips of bright orangish pink that contrast with the neutral blues, and even the Cuatro Torres reflect a bit of the pink as well. The sunsets here are beautiful in the way that makes your heart hurt because you know you can't take them for granted, that you won't be seeing them forever, that these skylines and spectrums are not yours to keep. And don't even get me started on the starry nights.

{view from my evening run}

I'm starting to really miss D.C. and can't wait to go back and move into my new dorm. I have so much to look forward to during this next year, but I only have four weeks left in Spain and I intend to make them count. I'm planning weekends to Lisbon, Granada, and Sevilla and am meeting some new friends soon. Enjoy the rest of your week!

{shopping on Gran Vía}

~ V

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

Week 7: Six Things I Learned This Week in Spain

As usual, when you learn to let go and stop forcing things to work a certain way, everything sort of falls into place. This week I decided to let things happen without planning too much, and the results were pretty great. I went to my first flamenco show and had a great night out with some girls, I spent a day being productive and working on internship applications at a cute cafe in the city, and I started a language exchange with Javier, a man here in Madrid trying to improve his English. It's sometimes nice to see where things take you rather than planning your days down to the minute, which is what I usually do. Here's what I learned this week:

{Dolce Vita}

1. NARS' Dolce Vita is amazing. (I'm kind of cheating here, since this has nothing to do with Spain, but when an airline loses your luggage and all your (new) makeup inside it, you justify going shopping.) One of my favorite writers/bloggers/instagram accounts is Ella Ceron, a self-proclaimed kale and cookie equal opportunist. She's incredibly bold and inspiring, not only in her professional work and expertise regarding all things Kanye, Kardashian, and Drake, but also in her personal posts on body image, life with disordered eating, being a woman, etc. She wrote a post a few months ago about lipstick that kind of stuck with me (read it, it's fantastic) and inspired my recent purchase. I've worn this shade every day since I bought it and am definitely incorporating it into my makeup routine. 

{la Reina Sofía}

2. What homesickness feels like. For the first time in these past seven weeks, I felt homesick. I was feeling kind of blehh, which is the exact word I used to describe my mindset to a friend, and really needed someone to talk to. I couldn't help but think that if I was back home, I could just drive over to Alana's house and pick her up and drive around and get ice cream. Instead, I had to settle for instant messages and time zones and scheduled Skype sessions. While I wouldn't consider leaving early for even a second, it's nice to remember that I have a home and a family and friends who I consider family, all who will make leaving Spain in just five short weeks so much easier.

{garlic naan & paneer masala}

3. Indian food in Madrid is a joke. I took myself out to dinner on Sunday, desperately craving paneer and in need of a little bit of #treatyoself. I did my research on Yelp beforehand trying to find the best Indian restaurant in the area, but the most highly rated place also happened to be the worst Indian food I've had in my entire life. Ever. Needless to say, I'll be waiting until I'm back on American soil to try any Indian food again.

{flamenco dancer}

4. Flamenco is totally underrated and inspiring. Word to the wise: if you're ever feeling jaded in Spain go to your first flamenco show. Remind yourself what it is to feel small and insignificant and inexperienced and incapable and inferior in the best way possible. Think about how much you're going to miss Spain when you leave. How much it has become a part of you. How much its identity had aligned with your own, just as you knew it would and then in some unexpected ways as well. Remind yourself what it is to feel something and remind yourself how silly it is that you ever forgot. 

{gorgeous library}

5. It's the little things in life. This week, I had one of the best days I've had yet. The weather wasn't stiflingly hot (for once), all my favorite Drake songs played even though my iPod was on shuffle, I had my favorite breakfast, I wore my favorite t shirt dress and Birkentocks, I had new lipstick to complement my stellar hair day, I had my first language exchange, and best of all—I didn't miss my bus. This may sound trivial but this is the first time I've made my bus without planning well ahead of time. I made my metro in between transferring lines and didn't have to wait 9 minutes for the next train and the doors closed right as I got on and when I got off I was right in front of the escalators to exit and had exactly 4 minutes to get my bus so I didn't have to rush or wait too long AND HOW GREAT IS THAT. From the outside looking in, all of this probably sounds trivial and unexciting, but my grin on the metro when I realized I was going to make my bus is proof enough that the simple joys in life are worth appreciating, too.

{card & cat}

6. The joy of receiving a letter in the mail. When I was younger, my cousin in Georgia and I would send letters to each other after she moved from New Jersey in the fourth grade. But with cell phones and Facebook, all of that stopped, so it had been years since I received real mail. My roommate is studying abroad in Japan during this upcoming school year (and is going to have an amazing time), and wrote goodbye letters to the rest of us in the room, and I just received mine in the mail this morning. With the amount of time that had passed since she mailed the letter, we both assumed it had gotten lost in the mail, so when I woke up this morning and found a white envelope with my name on it, I actually screamed from excitement. I read the card with the kind of giddy excitement you get over birthday presents when you’re nine or when you receive surprise flowers from someone you really care about. It’s amazing how a simple piece of paper can make you so happy, but there I was, standing in the entryway reading this card over and over and laughing at the jokes and doodles and crying not only at how much I’m going to miss my roommate, but also at how happy I was to have her in my life, to have someone who valued our friendship as much as I did, and cared enough to send a card and cat photo 3,781 miles away. It’s cliche at this point to lament the fact that we no longer send each other handwritten letters, especially considering that I’m part of the generation that hardly did that anyway. But I’ve decided to start sending my friends mail; if you can make someone so happy, so easily, then why wouldn’t you? 

I'm looking forward to this week and hope you enjoy yours!

~ V

Read also: Week 1, Week 2, Week 3, Week 4, Week 5, Week 6