Orientation #2 (In Spain)

     Today, we had our second "in country" orientation. It was for all the people that live kind of close to Bilbao. Kind of close to goes up to 2 hours away, really. Thank God I only live 15 minutes away...
     I was 1/4 excited because I could finally speak English and be around other people from America, which makes me feel so good, since it's such a rarity right now. But I was 3/4 dreading it, because I mean, I knew it would be 9 hours (9 freaking hours!!!!!) of little games and activities and things that I just was not feeling. 
     When I got there, I finally got to see the buddies I had from the other orientations that I haven't been able to see since I got here. There's this guy Alex who is also from Pennsylvania and he only lives like 15 minutes away from me, so we hang out every weekend. He's SO awesome. He's crazy and wild and funny and such a great guy. He's the best friend I have here right now, besides my host sister, so I see him all the time. But the others, I never see, so it was great to finally see them.
    And we started these activities and games which I thought would be really lame, but they were pretty fun because we got to do them together, all of us crazy kids. And I mean, I totally adore all the people that live near me, all the people that were at the orientation. They're crazy, but it's such a good time.
     There were even Spanish people there. They're returnees who have gone to other countries with AFS. And of course at first, it was kind of segregated (Spanish people on one side, the rest of us on the other) but once we got started, we all got jumbled into this big group. And these people are SO cool. I just love Spanish people in general. They're loud, they're wild, they're flirty, they're affectionate...THEY'RE PERFECTION. Plus, I'm pretty sure I made them say "McDonalds" about 5000 times because it is the cutest and most perfect thing in this world when they say it. Like I don't think I've ever heard anything cuter than when a Spanish guy says McDonalds...Well, in reality, they could say anything to me and I would like it, because I mean, have you seen OR heard Spanish guys!?!? They are heaven on earth......ANYWHO.....
     We went out to this really amazing restaurant for lunch...and they had CROQUETAS, which are these little balls of heaven. They're flour, cheese, milk, oil, and little bits of ham...FRIED. God they are so good. I'm pretty sure I had like 30...But it was so fun. We had about an hour where we were just eating and talking and going crazy. Buuuuut, that was when my phone dropped...and now the screen of my phone is TOTALLY shattered, which pisses me off beyond words...But other than that, lunch was great.
     We had free time to walk around and hang out, then returned to doing activities, then had more free time. It was an awesome way to spend time with these crazy people who are so fun and interesting and different from me, but at the same time, really similar to me.
     It's amazing to be around not only people that speak English, but people that understand what I'm going through. We're all doing the same thing, we're all here on the same trip, we're all experiencing this. I mean, I can talk about this experience with my parents or my friends all I want, but they're never going to understand. They're never going to know what I'm talking about, and they're never going to be able to make me feel better about the things I'm worried about. But these kids, these amazingly kind and funny people that live near me...they get it. They really do. And being able to be with them and to share stories and to bounce ideas and doubts and anything off of each other, it's just so great. 
     Even though I was dreading going to this, I ended up not wanting to leave at the end of the day. I wanted more time to talk to and get to know these people. I wanted it to continue, and I actually CAN NOT WAIT until the next orientation. God I love these guys. 
     

     

The UPS

     Yesterday was a really good day...a great day, actually! It was great from the moment I woke up.
     Usually, in the morning, almost every day that I wake up, I feel home sick. I don't know why.. It's like every morning, I wake up with an emptiness, with a pit in my stomach, with an ache for my parents and for my friends and for my home. Once I get to school and my day starts, I'm totally fine. I'm not sure why it's always the mornings that I just wake up with this horrible sadness. But yesterday, I woke up and I felt good. For some reason, I just felt happy and content. 
     So, I went to school. My first class was History, and the night before, I had to do a sort of "graphic organizer" type of thing for a section we read in the book (which of course I only understood with some serious help from Google Translate). I had no idea if I did it right or if the information was right. But when I got there and we went over it, it was totally right. I was so beyond happy.
     And then I had gym, which I always sort of dread. I hate gym, even in America....for 2 reasons. 1) I'm extremely lazy, and totally okay with that. I hate running, I hate sports (except lacrosse, which I always kind of sucked at anyway), I hate any type of physical activity really. The only physical activity I want to do is walk from the TV to the fridge for food. Like, that's probably so bad to say, and I should want to change that, but I don't. I just don't really care about physical activity to be honest. And that's okay with me. And 2) I'm incredibly clumsy and uncoordinated. I can't play any sports or do anything very well. I mean I can hardly walk without tripping, how do they expect me to play these sports and games and things like that? It's practically impossible and incredibly embarrassing....Anyway, in gym, I was in a group with only the girls in the class (there are only 5 of us), thank god, and I didn't really have to do much.
     The rest of my classes were fine, as well.
     And in recreo (free time) that day, I hung out with these girls, Andrea and Alazne (no idea if I spelled that right) who are kind of crazy and whacky and weird, but I absolutely love it because I mean, so am I, of course. I finally found these girls who are super nice and friendly and welcoming and just totally the same as me, and I feel so comfortable with them. There were a bunch of other really cool, really nice people, but I have no idea what their names are...
     I even got invited to hang out with Andrea after school, go to her house to eat, and then we could go to the gym together. I mean, that's not much, it's not like I had some really awesome plans with all my new best friends, but it's something. She wanted to hang out with me, and that to me was just really awesome. It's the first time that someone has actually invited me to do something with them, and it made me really happy, even though I couldn't go because I already had plans.
     Then after school, I got a message from Alazne saying she read my blog and she loved it, and then we got to talking, and we're like the same person. It made me really happy to know that there was someone that I could REALLY relate to here, besides my host sister (WHOM I ABSOLUTELY ADORE). And she told me that she thinks we're going to be really good friends, and for some reason, that just made me so happy. Just to know that there is someone who is really interested in me as a person and not as an "experiment" or just some "foreigner" as I think I am for most people here still.
    Then at night, I went to Bilbao with Ane (my sister), Aurora (Ane's friend) and Nekane (a friend of Aurora's) and we really didn't do anything special, but it was just really fun. And it felt good because I could understand. I feel like I'm finally really understanding a lot. I can understand the jokes and laugh and it's getting easier and easier to be myself, even with people that I don't really know, like Nekane. Plus, she invited us to go to a discoteca next weekend, which I really hope I can go to, as I've never been to one before (we don't have them in America, in case you were wondering). 
     So yeah, nothing special. But it was just a day full of fun and friends and finally feeling content. I finally felt for a whole entire day and not just a small amount of time that this is the place I should be right now. That this is the right thing to be doing. That I'm really going to have an incredible year. That I CAN DO THIS. 

The little things

     It's the little things that make a difference to me, the little things that aren't usually important and that aren't special, but to me, they mean a lot.
     For example, the other day in class, my teacher was asking me questions and I was getting really confused and when she stopped talking to me, one of my classmates, who I really haven't even talked to yet, just looked over at me and smiled. I don't know why but that just made me smile, and put me in a better mood.
     Or like a couple of the girls in my class asking if I wanted to come sit by the pool with them during one of our classes. Or the day we had that weird non-class, bonding day, and during our free time, they waited for me outside and asked me to walk with them and hangout with them. 
     Or how a girl who isn't even in any of my classes always smiles at me or winks at me in the hallway and she always finds the time to ask me how I'm doing and to talk to me when she can.
     Or like in Latin, every Wednesday, we work with a group on a project. Our teacher let us pick groups, and on the first day, these three girls immediately came up to me and asked me if I wanted to be in their group. Of course I said yes, I mean I didn't exactly have a better option. They explain things to me, help me along the way, and they treat me like a friend and classmate, not like some weird foreign chick that's unapproachable because she's not fluent in the language. They asked me why I'm always with this one guy (Kasper, he's in my class), and I told them honestly, because not many people talk to me, and he does. (Side track- there's a hell of a lot of people that talk about me...still not sure whether it's good or bad... but not a whole lot that talk to me, and I'm still not sure why). Anywho, the girls were like, "Well, and us!! We're your friends too." And now we hang out during "recreo" or "free time." 
     Or how my teacher made me read in Lengua (literature), which I wasn't entirely comfortable with, and afterward, the guy sitting in front of me turned around and said I did a good job reading, and that I read it well. 
     I know these things are really stupid and unimportant, but they make a difference to me. These are things that make me feel good, that make me feel a little better. Because I'm not going to lie, it's still hard. I still feel like an outsider. I know it takes time, and obviously I'm not going to make best friends right at the beginning, especially since I don't even speak the same language, and I'm pretty quiet in school. But still, it's so different from the US, because I'm so used to being the loud, crazy person with a bunch of friends who is a lot of times the center of attention. Here, it's just so different right now, and I feel a little out of my element still. But I know things will get better, and I can feel myself getting better at Spanish and more comfortable here every day. And these tiny gestures make me feel that much more comfortable. 
     So, moral of the story: smile, say hi, wave, wink, give a compliment. Do something small for someone, because that tiny thing that you find insignificant can make a difference. That little smile can make someone who is having a horrible day turn their frown upside down, to borrow from elementary school vernacular... It can impact someone's life in a way you never imagined. So take a little time out of your day, even just a fraction of a second, to smile or wave or to do whatever you can do to make someone feel a little more comfortable, a little more happy, and a little more loved.

Integration

     Today was a good day. Today we had "school" technically, but we didn't have "classes." We had to do these activities and discussions that were designed to understand ourselves, understand each other, and bring us closer, I guess. I was genuinely dreading it. I was nervous, I was anxious, and I felt rather sick about it. I think it was because I assumed we'd be splitting into partners or small groups and doing things that generally make us feel slightly uncomfortable ("ice-breakers"), and that I'd be forced to talk. I was terrified.
     But, it was actually really fun. First, we read something written that was intended for the writer and for God, I think, if I'm not mistaken, which I very well could be. And it was someone who was willing to accept themselves as they were because they knew that God would love them no matter what. Then, we listened to a song all about being the person that we are. After that, we read a story about two men, a ring, and some gold. Long story short, it's about the fact that each and every one of us is important, that we are worth something, and that we serve a purpose. The idea is that we should never take to heart the judgement given by those who can not properly judge our worth.
     Side track for a sec, that writing actually resonated with me, because there are people that will tear others down and make them feel inferior. But it's more important what our friends (real ones) think of us, what our families think of us, and most importantly, what we think of ourselves. SO BE CONFIDENT IN EVERYTHING YOU DO.
     Anywho, back to today; we read that and then our tutor gave us a paper with a bunch of adjectives. We had to pick three that were good about ourselves, and one that was bad. Then we had to go around the circle and say the adjectives we thought described ourselves and why we thought that. I said I'm smart because I understand a lot, and I love to learn. I said I'm hopeful because I think it's important to be positive and to be hopeful and to always believe in yourself and the way things will turn out. Then I said I'm caring because the feelings of others are just as important, if not more important, than my own. The bad one is that I'm impatient, which ended up being the "bad one" for most people.
     That was the way the class got to know me, and I the class. It was actually fun to just be able to talk to our tutor and with each other about a bunch of things, and to talk about ourselves, to let each other a little further beneath the surface.
     Most importantly, this was the first day that I finally felt integrated. There are times when I feel more integrated than others. Like every once in a while, I feel really awkward and I wonder what I'm doing there. But then there are other times that I feel like it's the right place for me, even if I'm not totally comfortable yet. But today was the first day that I felt less like a charity case and more like a fellow student. I felt like I was there as one of them, among the rest of them, and that I could laugh and speak freely.
     I've got a really great class, and it's getting easier to open up to them. I'm less isolated, I talk more, and I feel a little more "at home." Obviously I'm nowhere near 100% here, because I've only been in school for 2 weeks. But I have hope. I know that things will get better, and that every day it will get easier.
     What helps me keep going sometimes is to think about the fact that every year, I complain to my mom about my classes, because I feel like I have no one in them, or all my friends are in a class and I'm in the other, or something of the sort. But then after a few weeks, I always end up adoring my class, making new friends, and having tons of fun. I'm sure the very same will happen this year. I just have to give it time. But I truly feel good and confident and ready to take on the rest of this year.

Message In A Bottle

     Today, my family took me to San Juan De Gaztelugatxe, a place in Northern Spain. It is the most beautiful place I've ever been in my life. I've honestly never seen anything like it. But I didn't go just for the sightseeing, I went because my host mom thought it'd be a good idea to do something special for my friend who unfortunately passed recently. She had the brilliant idea of writing a letter, putting it in a bottle, and tossing it into the ocean, as a sort of symbolic goodbye. She's kind of a genius.
     So, I wrote my letter to Juliet...but it wasn't just to Juliet. I took it as an opportunity to say my goodbyes to all the things I've been too afraid to let go of. I said my goodbyes to Juliet, but I also said my goodbyes to my first and only love, and to all the pain I've felt over the years. This was my goodbye to friends gone, to love lost, and to hearts broken. I don't want to hold onto any of that anymore. I think I've been holding onto all of it for so long because I thought that if I let it go, it'd be over...that I'd be over. I've gone through so much, and I've dealt with my fair share of hard times, but I've never let any of it go, because I thought the ache of dealing with it would be too much to bear. But I've realized recently that in reality, the pain gets worse every day that I hold onto all the things I should have let go a long time ago. So, it was time to say goodbye to all the things I'd never had the will to say goodbye to before.
     But, this wasn't only a goodbye. It's to holding onto hope and never letting it go. It's to dreaming like you can have the whole world. It's to loving like you've never been hurt. It's to finding your way when you've gotten lost. It's to trying new things. It's to saying and doing the things you're afraid of. And it's to never forgetting the past, but being able to let it go. This is to the future.
     I walked to the edge of a cliff in the most beautiful place I've ever been, and I took a few minutes to say my goodbyes, to shed a tear for those lost, and to smile because there's so much more to come. Then I threw it in the water. At first, it felt the same. I felt the same...
     I was taking pictures of the sunset by the beach, and then I just took a few minutes to stop staring through the screen of my phone, and to really see what was in front of me. That's when I felt it. I finally felt at peace. That was the moment that I finally felt free. That was the moment that I finally felt alive. And I realized that these are the moments I want to hold onto forever. These are the moments I don't want to forget...these are the moments I don't think I ever could.

Tragedy strikes

     Recently, on the morning of September 16, a good friend of mine decided to take her own life. As I can not be there with those that I love to mourn this tragedy, I have decided, with permission from her mother of course, to post here a small "memorial" to her. It's to remember her, to share my feelings about the situation, and to show that life back home can influence our new life here as exchange students...so here goes:
     Juliet Benson. This was a gorgeous girl with talent, ambition, a heart of gold, a contagious laugh, and a beautiful soul. She deserved nothing but the best, but in the end, she just wasn't able to get it.
     To act like we have been best friends since we met, or that we talked every day, or that we hung out all the time would be a lie. I wasn't her closest friend, especially toward the end, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like hell. That doesn't mean I didn't love her.
     In 7th grade, Juliet and I were lucky enough to be in the same class. I didn't know a lot of the people in that class. Well, I knew them, but they weren't my best friends, and that was detrimental to me as a 7th grader, though now it seems irrelevant. She was new and didn't know anyone either. That's when we found each other. We had each other when we had no one else. We were practically glued to each other. As her mother tells me, I was her first best friend when she moved here and had no one. Rachael, her mom, tells me that she talked about me all the time. It makes me feel good to know that I meant something to her, and that I had an impact on her, as well, because god knows she had one on me. I had her when I had no one else, and she had me. I tried to be there for her as much as I could, but now I know it wasn't enough.
     Over the next few years, we continued to grow as individual people; we moved on with our lives, and in the process, we lost a bit of each other. But that doesn't mean we didn't still love each other, care about each other, or have fun together when we got the chance. She was still and always will be an amazing friend to me, a piece of my heart, a part of me.
     I wonder if I could have said something or done something to make her feel like she could stay. I wonder what would have happened if only I'd stayed with her through everything. I knew..I knew all along that she struggled, but now I realize I never knew how much. The guilt is so painful, and the questions are eating away at me. Could I have helped her? I don't know, nor will I ever. But at the end of the day, there was nothing. At the end of the day, there was a choice to make, and she made it.
     I just can't believe she's really gone. I will never again see her beautiful smile that lit up everyone's day. I will never again hear her contagious laugh. I will never again sing alongside her, which was an absolute honor, because she had the voice of an angel. I will never again be silly and wild and crazy alongside her. I will never again laugh until my stomache hurts, as I usually did with her. I will never again stand beside her. And that's the hardest part to imagine...NEVER. This isn't temporary. I just keep holding onto the hope that this was a mistake, that she's okay. But she's not. She's really gone and she's not coming back.
     She struggled beautifully for so long, and she tried harder than I've ever seen anyone try to keep going. If anyone knew how to live with pain, it was her. She just did it. But I guess she couldn't struggle through anymore. And I understand. I'm not mad. I know some people become angry with the person for having given up or for leaving them, but I'm not angry with her. She didn't give up, she just decided on a life that she thought would be better suited for her. And god I hope it is, because if anyone deserves to be happy, it's her. I hope she gets everything she couldn't here. I'm not angry with her...I'm angry with God, if there is one, or destiny, or fate, or chance, or the universe, or whatever it is that gave her such a hard life and made her feel alone. I'm angry at myself for not having helped her more. And I'm angry that it wouldn't have mattered if I did.
     Sometimes we're born with hope and we hold onto it for all our lives. Sometimes we're born without hope and have to struggle to find it. And sometime's we're born with hope, but it's stolen from us. Sometimes we're not strong enough to withstand the horrors of life. Juliet, though I can't be sure, seemed to have a hope bubbling from deep within. A lot of times, circumstance buried that hope, but it was still there. I don't know if she lost sight of it that horrible morning, or if she lost it a long time ago, and I will never know. All I know is that she felt this was the right choice for her. But god do I wish she would have held onto that hope.
     Being all the way across the Atlantic is killing me. I wasn't there for her or for anyone, and I can't be now. I can't attend her memorial to laugh, cry, and mourn along with all of those that loved her just as much as I did. And while yes, I'm sure a lot of people will say they loved her more than I, or that she loved them more than she loved me, to me, it's not a competition. To me, someone only has to touch your heart one time for you to love them, for you to care about them, and for you to mourn their loss. She touched my heart back in 7th grade and her mark continued to grow throughout the years, even if we didn't hang out as much toward the end. But I still loved her, I still cared for her, and I still mourn her loss.
     Her beauty was undeniable, her talent was unimaginable, and her courage was incomprehensible. I hope to someday be as strong, as lively, and as incredible as she was. God did I love her, and god do I still.... 
     Rachael, please continue to be strong. I'm so sorry for your loss. I know Juliet loved you so much. She cared about you and loved you more than anything in this world, and I'm sorry you had to lose your babygirl. I can't even imagine how hard it must be for you. Keep going and stay strong, because that's what will give the rest of us hope... 
     And Juliet, though I'm not sure you'll ever see this, as I have no idea what comes after this life, just know that I love you and I miss you so much it hurts.
     RIP Juliet Benson

The dreaded first day of school

     I kid you not, the first day of school was a nightmare. The first day of school shouldn't really even be considered school, because you only go for about 2 hours. Since we didn't have to show up until 11:30, Ane (my host sister), Eglee (my host mother), and I had to get a few things done, and then we headed into Bilbao, where my school is. But Ane and I ended up being an hour early, so we just sat in this little "plaza" or square right by the school. We sat there, freaking out, not sure what to expect, as both of us were new to the school, and I hardly speak any Spanish. 
     When we got inside, I couldn't understand anyone. They all speak SO fast, I can't make out any words. I can understand my family and this girl that we met when walking into school, whose name is Fernanda. She was new as well, from Mexico, and she is now one of my friends here. But seriously, I had no idea what anyone else was saying. We were split into our groups, as there are 4 groups for "Primero Bachillerato" or the first year of their two year "high school" here. It's really hard to explain the system, but you get the point. Each group is a class, and they have most of their classes together, and one tutor. My tutor's name is Josu, and he's very nice, but I don't understand anything when he's talking to all of us. I don't think I've ever heard anyone talk so fast and so jumbled in all of my life. It was so embarrassing because he was asking me questions in front of the class, and I couldn't answer any of them. 
     After only two hours of "class," I was more confused than I'd ever been in my entire life. I was confused, I was tired, and I was so terrified of the rest of the week. I didn't know anybody, and it didn't seem to me like the rumors were true. No one here cares that I'm from America, no one here cares that I'm foreign. They have their little groups, and it's so incredibly difficult to penetrate them, especially for a complete outsider like me. I don't even know how to make conversation with them because the hardest thing for me is speaking. I can understand a good amount, but I can't think fast enough to be able to put together an even remotely correct sentence. But all that will change with time. It's just going to take a few EXTREMELY long, hard weeks.

Second day here!

     Sunday, I went for a walk through Mungia. I love it here. It's like a little baby city, but clean and safe and adorable. It's SO Euro. There are narrow streets solely for sitting or walking. I love that almost every restaurant in Mungia has tables on the sidewalks or in the streets. It's so open and free. I am in love with it. There are parks, stores, restaurants, cafes, bars, libraries, an "iglesia" (church) that looks exactly like what you would expect a Spanish church to look like, and there's even a castle that's been turned into a library and small movie theater. I swear, everything is beautiful here, even the people. 

     I went to the beach with my family, which was absolutely beautiful. I'm talking so beautiful it was breathtaking. They are infinitely better than those in America. The water is blue, it's less crowded, there are pebbles all over the beach, and the people are actually attractive.... But one thing that's going to be hard to get used to is the shirtless women. And it's not like it's just beautiful, fit, young women. No, there are young girls without tops, there are "out of shape" people without tops, and there are some seriously old, saggy women without tops. I mean, hey, good for them, you've got to be pretty confident to do that, I would think. Here, it's totally normal. But every time I see someone without their top, I keep thinking, What is she doing? Doesn't she know where she is? Does she not realize how many people there are here? Why isn't anyone telling her to put her top back on? It's just totally different here. 

     After the beach, we went driving, and my host parents showed me the country side, traditional Basque houses, which are of course gorgeous, and the place where they got married. Oh, another thing, in the Basque Country, they don't call their parents "madre y padre" or "mama y papa," they call them "ama y aita." I'm not sure if I spelled it right, but you get the point. 

     I absolutely love my family. I feel like I'm a part of the family, and I feel totally at home with them. They also say that I'm good at Spanish, which makes me feel so much better. I actually understand a lot. There are a lot of times when I can understand exactly what they're saying and there's no problem. There are also times when I have no clue what they are saying to me. But most of the time, I'm stuck in a middle ground, where I understand the general idea of what they're saying to me, but I don't know the details, and I don't understand everything. I feel bad, because I feel like it's so frustrating for everyone else to have to talk slow or explain things multiple times. Then again, it's also frustrating for me...I'm the one who can't understand anything! Plus, it's only been a couple days. I'll learn eventually... "poco a poco."

      

Mi primer dia

     The first day...hmm, what can I say? Well, it was terrifying, to say the least. But in the best way possible. I got up in the morning (notice, I didn't say wake up...there was no sleeping for me that night...no joke, literally none) and went to the bus station at 7:30 AM. Honestly, I don't know why they would have us go there that early, considering the first kids out of our group to leave were leaving at 10:30, and my bus didn't even arrive until 11. I kid you not, I was so tired, I fell asleep on my suitcase in the bus station......that was slightly embarrassing. The volunteers were super cool though. They helped us relax, and if we needed anything, they were there for us. But once we got on that bus, there were no more volunteers. There was no more help. It was just AFS students with a long road ahead. 
     We arrived after a 5 hour bus ride, in which I did absolutely nothing but sleep, and every single person looked at each other like, "Oh my god, what are we doing?" Even the people who swore that they weren't nervous were scared. We all knew what was coming, but I think that was the moment that we really realized it was real. I looked around and said, "This is it guys.." And then we got off the bus. 
     I immediately saw my host sister and ran up to give her a hug and the "dos besos" (two kisses) that are almost a necessity when meeting up with someone in Spain. That's something I'm going to have to get used to. In America, when you meet someone, you either give them a slight head nod with a hello or shake their hand. But here, it's two kisses on the cheeks. I'm never really sure what I should do in those situations so I just follow the other person's lead to be honest. 
     Anyway, we drove from Bilbao to Mungia, which is the "pueblo" or small town that I live in. I was doing a lot of "Que?"ing and a lot of looking around like omg what? Because practice as much as you want, it's still hard to understand them. When I got to their house, I gave them their gifts, which thankfully they liked. Then I sat in the "sala" (livingroom) with my sister, whom I now just call Ane instead of Ane Elena. At first, it was really hard to understand her and really hard to communicate back. I mean, it's still really hard to communicate back. Talking is definitely the most difficult part for me. I can't put together a grammatically correct sentence that fast. I have to write it down and check it and fix my mistakes first, which I can't exactly do in natural situations. But anyway, it got easier, and we both got more comfortable with each other. We laughed a lot, mostly because of communication errors, but it was good to be able to laugh and have fun! 
     I also met my little brother, Gotzon, who is the cutest thing in the world, I swear. He's also got an addiction to video games, just like every other 8 year old kid. Honestly he's so nice and welcoming. They all are! 
     We went to a Rugby game in Valencia, which I had no idea was close to here. I also had really no idea what Rugby was, because I've never seen it before. It's not exactly common where I live. But we went with Elena, my "host aunt" and met her husband, who plays Rugby. They were both incredibly nice, as well. They said I understand a good amount of Spanish, which makes me extremely happy. 
     I ate paella!!! I am in love with paella...I was before I left, but seriously nothing beats actual Spanish paella...if you ever have the chance to try it, DO IT!!!
     Then later, for dinner, we ate tortilla espanola. It's kind of like a giant omelet, but so much better. Everything here is good. All the food is incredible. I have not yet tried something that I didn't like. There's also these things called "bocadillos" which are basically sandwiches. Bocadillos with chorizo are incredible, especially with the bread here, which is nothing like our sandwich bread. It's REAL bread! 
     Then, of course, I went to bed. I slept for a good 12 hours, and I'm still always tired, no matter how much sleep I get. I'm not sure if it's because I'm still jetlagged and not yet used to the time change or if it's because I'm completely surrounded by new things and a language I only speak a little of. Either way, that's one thing you should know about this trip...it is exhausting...especially at the beginning. I'm sure it will get easier. Every day, it gets a little easier. Or as they say here, "Poco a poco."
     But, in all honesty, I feel completely at home with my family. I couldn't have asked for a better family. I adore them, I adore Mungia, I adore Bilbao, and I adore El Pais Vasco. Here, they don't consider themselves a part of Spain...This is "The Basque Country" or "El Pais Vasco." Seriously though, it's amazing. I feel so great here!!!

Orientations

     Orientations.....They are...well, interesting. Some of the things that we do don't seem to help much. I think they try to have us do things that will get us accommodated to the changes, but there's no possible way to do that. And a lot of the things we did at the NYC orientation were icebreakers to get to know the other students that were going abroad. 

     As strange as some things were, and as scary as it was at the beginning, I actually had a lot of fun at orientations. It's amazing to be around a bunch of people that know exactly what you're going through. They all know what it's like. I could talk to my friends all I want from back home, but they're never going to understand this experience...well, except for Paige, because she's been down this exact same road. But the rest of my friends have never gone abroad for a year and lived with a different family. They have no clue what it's like. And that's okay. I understand why they don't. But it's so great to have met people that really get me, that really get the situation, and that I can now call my friends. In only a few days, I've made some awesome friends that I think I will definitely continue to keep in contact with while I'm abroad.

     It was also fun to meet all the volunteers, especially in Spain. They were the nicest, funniest, coolest people. I ended up hanging out with all the volunteers the night we spent in Madrid. They were seriously awesome, and they were all pretty young and had been abroad before, so they knew how we felt. 

     As boring as some of the activities were, being with all those people was so fun. And now I actually can't wait til the next one. I just want to hang out with all the people that live near me and find out how everything is going with them. 

     Anyone who goes abroad in the future, know that yes, a lot of the orientations are listening and learning, which can be really boring, but they are a great way to meet and become close with the people that will be going through the same thing as you. Don't take them for granted. Use them as an opportunity to get to know people that could be lifelong, or at least trip long friends!!

Warning

     Just to let all of you know, there will be times when my posts are a way to express my unhappiness, my fear, or my homesickness. Those posts will probably be depressing or pessimistic. And I mean, of course there will be a myriad of happy posts where I’m so excited I can hardly control myself. But to only have those types of posts would be unrealistic. To post only happy feelings would constitute that this experience is only a happy one. It’s not. Nothing ever is. It’s going to be a rollercoaster. All of life is. There are going to be ups and downs and in order to move forward, you must acknowledge both the highs and the lows. So I am going to do that on this blog. If you don’t enjoy reading the sad posts, skip to the happy ones. But I won’t pretend that nothing bad ever happens and that it’s only ever rainbows and butterflies. You can’t have the rainbow without a little rain.

The Lasts

     Sorry I haven't posted yet. Today is the first day since I left that I've had wifi on my computer. I wrote this on the plane, but I'm posting it now.....

     Although I’ve been a part of this process for about a year, it only started to feel real toward the end, when I was going through what I like to call “the lasts.” These are the things you know will change, but you don’t realize how much you’ll miss until you’ve completed it for the last time.

     The last time I stay the night at my father’s. I go to my father’s every Friday and spend the night, and I’ve always taken that for granted. But the last time I was at his house on a Friday, I realized that I’d no longer be able to escape the craziness of my house by retreating to a calmer, more laid back environment. I’d no longer be able to stay up late watching stupid TV shows with my dad, who actually surprisingly gets really into them. I’d no longer be able to have him make milkshakes for us at midnight. And I’d no longer have to get up at 11 so he could take us home and go to work.
     The last time I see my friends. Saying goodbye to each of them was so hard. I mean, the goodbye party was so much fun, and at the end of the night, of course it was hard to say goodbye to the people I knew I wouldn’t see again before I left. But it was especially hard to spend a day or an evening with my best friends, really experiencing what it was like to be with them, and then having to let them go. It’s great to be able to see them one more time, but it also made it harder in a sense, because it was a reminder of all the things I had to leave behind.
     The last time I have a family dinner. The whole family got together on Tuesday night at my dad’s house and we had a really great last family dinner. And I felt fine the whole time. But when the time came to leave, my heart hurt. It was so difficult to realize that was the last time I’d sit down and eat with my family. I looked around my dad’s house and walked out knowing I wouldn’t see it again for a year.
     The last time I slept in my bed. Lying in bed that night and waking up the next morning, I tried to savor every moment of lying in MY bed with MY blankets in MY room. Honestly, not even going to lie, but one of the things I’m dreading about Spain is having to sleep in a twin bed…..I have a queen size and I feel so cramped in a little bed. That’s seriously such a stupid thing to be worried about, but it’s true.

     The last time driving away from my house. I’ve lived in the same house since I was 7 and moved to Pennsylvania from California. I was so young that I hardly remember the house I had before. I hardly remember what it was like to live in California. I mean, I remember a lot, but it feels so foreign to me. It feels like a hazy dream that I had, or an out of body experience. It doesn’t feel like I really lived it. But Lancaster, Pennsylvania, as much as I dislike it, is still my home. It’s where I grew up, and it’s where I feel at home. Having to leave everything that I’ve really ever known behind is so terrifying.

     But none of that compares to having to say goodbye to my parents. Walking into the hotel, I was having a genuine panic attack. I don’t even know what happened. It was just like all the things I’d never really been thinking too much about hit me all at the same time. I was in a new place with tons of kids I didn’t know, and I had to let go of the two people I’ve been closest to for my entire life. As much as I fight with my parents, they are my life. They are my support system, my family, and my best friends. And having to leave them for so long just killed me inside. Even now, hearing their voices on the phone and realizing that that’s the closest I could get to them for the next 10 months just drove me off the edge.

     I think, as amazing as this is, and as excited as I am, the lasts are the hardest things to get through. But at the same time, you have to go through your “lasts” of all the things you know to get to the “firsts” of all the things you don’t yet know.