Cheesy Honesty

Walking down the street several days ago, I saw an elderly homeless man. Upon first glance, I realized that he had absolutely nothing except for the clothes that he was wearing, the cane that he was leaning on, and the paper coffee cup - similar to the one from which I had had a wonderful, warm cup of coffee in only seconds before - with no more than a handful of coins that some polite people had given him. My immediate reaction was to feel sorry for this man, but after watching him for a few moments, the feelings of guilt turned to curiosity. As I watched this man, I couldn't help but question how he lives such a life. Where on earth does this man find hope, when he isn't even guaranteed a place to sleep. Where in the world does this elderly, homeless man find strength, when he isn't even guaranteed a meal that day. The only answer I could come up with was faith.

Faith to me is a funny thing. I have always admired people who have a strong sense of faith, because for me, faith has always been pretty difficult. When I take a step back, and look at life, and this world as a whole, nothing seems to make sense. The past few days I have been homesick. I have been thinking and longing for this wonderful home. This beautiful place that provides me with a sense of warmth, safety and nourishment. And best of all, this familiar place that is constantly offering me a sense of love, acceptance, and family unlike any other.



After shedding a few tears over  my longing for home, however, I walk out of my apartment to go to the gym, only to stumble upon this. These two men who have somehow managed to set up camp in the lobby next to my apartment building. These two men who don't have a home and sleep on hard tile floor, hoping to escape the streets just for one night. Once again I stumbled upon the question: how? How do these men wake up in the morning, pack up their things, and continue to push through this thing that they call life? And yet again, the only word I could think of was faith.

Don't get me wrong, I love my home, my family, my warm and comfortable bed, but I grow envious when I begin to realize that these men have something that I do not. These men have a faith unlike anything that I have ever dreamed of. I want what they have.

Being the control freak that I am, each day here I am reminded that life is a mystery. We are fools to even begin to think that we have even the slightest bit of control. But I guess that's the point of it all. We make plans, and things go wrong; we have hopes and dreams, and things get in the way.  But its what we do that counts. It is the ability to take a step back when I forget my boarding pass, and thus miss my first flight to Barcelona, and just accept fate. It is getting lost on the Barcelona metro, where there isn't a single friendly face, or a helping hand to be found, and having a little faith. It is taking the wrong turn, and consequently learning the way. It being pushed aside as outsiders by much of the Catalan community, and often growing a little lonely, and trusting that in the end it is going to be worth it. It is taking this enormous opportunity, letting faith take care of the fear, and instead focusing on the promise. It all comes together in the end.

I knew I was taking a leap of faith by leaving Nashville for four months, and calling a completely foreign place my home. What I didn't know, however, was that the leap was going to be so huge, and that I was going to make it to the other not only ok, but happy, grateful, stronger, more confident, and with a much stronger sense of faith.


"As your faith is strengthened you will find that there is no longer the need to have a sense of control, that things will flow as they will, and that you will flow with them, to your great delight and benefit."

Pretty Amazing

I am not going to lie, I am feeling a bit uninspired today. Sitting in my apartment after my first day of skipping classes, I am trying not to swallow due to an awfully sore throat, and i am trying to keep my eyes open despite my lack of sleep last night. These are the days that make it hard being away from home, however, these are also the days that make me a stronger, more independent young woman. Additionally, it is days like today that I must take a step back from my feelings of homesickness, and look instead at the bigger picture of how wonderful the other days have been. So the past few wonderful days at a glance, which help me get through the long ones like today:

Friday morning we were given the opportunity to go on a free day trip, provided by the program that I am a part of. About fifteen of us met at 9am and took an hour bus ride to Southern Catalunya; to a little town called Tarragona. Upon arriving in this litte town of about 130,000 people, we were immediately led to that which their town was built around, the Roman ruins.

It was so amazing to me not only that ancient Rome reached all the way to Spain, but also that the hard work and dedication that Rome put into their architecture has lasted all this time. Each and every ruin that we saw told a story, and though I am the furthest thing from a lover of history, I was left hungry for more. From these very walls, which were built around the city to protect from invaders, to the amphitheater beautifully seated by the water, I was in awe of it all.

Though it was all beautiful, from the city streets,
to the cafés that I can only imagine myself sitting and drinking coffee and doing my homework each morning, I cannot imagine being these people. I cannot imagine being someone who knows nothing more than these small crowded streets, secured by ancient Roman walls, where there is rarely an unfamiliar face, and each day consists of the same routine. I went back and forth, from pitying them for not knowing anything else, to admiring them for the simplicity and peaceful way that they lived their lives.


After wandering for about three hours, we reloaded the bus, and took another hour ride into the countryside of Southern Spain. Though the drive was beautiful, the lack of air conditioning and the winding roads led to a bus full of complaining American college students. Once we arrived at the traditional Southern Catalan restaurant, however, there was little talking heard seeing as we were devouring this wonderful, yet completely foreign food in front of us.

Traditionally, Catalans eat their biggest meal of the day at about 2:00 in the afternoon; a three course lunch. Though in Barcelona, the typical meal is one that I am not fond of... I fell in love with this one. The meal began with what are known as Calcots, large green onions that are grilled and dipped in the wonderful orange sauce called Salvitxada, which is made of almonds, tomatoes, garlic, peppers, vinegar and oil. Because the charred outer layer of these onions must be peeled, everyone and everything grows extremely messy. Thus, the table is covered with paper cloths, and everyone wears a bib. Huge platters of these "onions" are placed throughout the table, and the servers continue to bring more, until they are asked to stop.

Following this wonderful course, everyone was sent to was their hands and remove their bibs, as the waiters cleared the mess of the Calcots from the table. When we arrive back at the table, an entirely new course consisting of two different kinds of sausage, a scary version of chicken, pork, artichokes and beans were placed throughout the table. Seeing as I was a bit nauseated by all of this meat, I stuck to the artichokes and beans, which were equally delicious, and made up for the nasty meat.  Finally, after filling up on all of this, they brough the third and final course, a wonderful dessert. Though I usually stray away from these, this was absolutely irresistible, and totally worth it :)
 In order to walk off this huge meal we had all just devoured, after lunch we all walked to an old, recently abandoned Monastery. Upon arriving to the Monastery, I had no idea what to expect, except that it would be extremely quiet and peaceful; it was so much more beautiful than I could have imagined. Though ideally, the monks would still be there, allowing me to stand off to the side and just watch them, all I could do was imagine them in this serene environment. Everyone finds their peace in different ways, from reading a good book, to practicing yoga, or from being at my beautiful farm, to simply being with the ones that you love the most, but I just cannot imagine going as far as to live in complete austerity. But to them, this was peace, and to me, that was both unbelievable and beautiful. From sleeping on a cold floor, with nothing but hay beneath them, to living each day in complete silence; I simply cannot imagine.

Following this visit at the Monestary, there was a long drive home, during which we all slept as a result of being overfed with Catalan food, and overwhelmed by Catalan history. Though everyone else went home, took a nap, then went out Friday night, I opted to stay in my warm bed, and get a good nights sleep. After a lazy Saturday, Saturday night I decided that I would go out. I ate dinner at "home" with a few other girls, then we went to a bar called Dow Jones. It was a pretty cool bar, based on the theme of the stock market. The drink prices rose and fell based on their popularity, in the same fashion as the real stock market does. Though I had a very fun night with my friends, there was one foul moment during which I had to get in an argument with an extremely creepy older guy. Though he was extremely attractive, he was attempting to get one of my friends who was extremely drunk, and has a boyfriend back home, to leave with him... and she was considering. He wasn't bothered by the fact that she was "taken," and was extremely willing to take advantage of her drunkenness. After being screamed at, "Who the f*** do you think you are?!" I decided I would go home to avoid a fun night being ruined.

Sunday consisted of nothing but sleep, homework, eating, and yoga videos in my room with the heat on (pretending I was in Page's class back home). Though I have more school work here than usual, and don't really feel like its school at all since I'm in Barcelona, life is good and I cannot wait for this weekend. Friday through Sunday will be a group trip to Sevilla, which I have heard is absolutely beautiful.

I love you all, and miss you all very much. I was told today that we are 1/4 of the way done. Pretty amazing; and very bittersweet. I cannot wait to be home, but I can already tell that its going to be a heartbreaking goodbye, because I do LOVE Barcelona.

Chill Bumps...

And so begins my first wonderful adventure outside of Barcelona... A weekend trip to Rome. I had no idea what to expect; to be honest, the only things I knew about Rome were that I had seen a lot of pictures of the Colosseum and Pantheon in my text books, that the Romans were once upon a time extremely powerful, and the Italy had lots of pizza and ice cream. As soon as I could see the ground from my airplane window, however, I knew that this place was once again going to be a place unlike anything I'd ever seen. Though I saw extremely beautiful things upon arriving in Rome, my first stop was something that I had only seen in my nightmares, our hostel: "Hotel Beautiful."


After a few deep breaths, I finally recovered from the utter shock of where I would be sleeping the next few nights, and decided that I should spend as little time within that place as possible, therefore we went out to explore Rome. Beginning with the Colosseum, I saw all of those incredible sites that I had learned about from texts books throughout school, however, I never imagined I would ever stand right next to. Each time I reached a new one of these unbelievable sites, I would stare in awe, touch them if I could, and do everything that I could to take it all in; it all just felt like a dream.


It wasn't just the beauty of these places that amazed me, but also the stories that lay within every inch of land. Don't get me wrong, there is nowhere I would rather live than my home in Nashville, however, I also cannot imagine walking to school each day, and passing the ancient Roman ruins that are taught worldwide. The hard work, dedication, skill, art that these people created within Rome is beyond anything that you could ever find in the US. I feel so lucky to have gotten to experience this first hand.

So Friday night, after a nice dinner at Dolce Vita (I made the girls go there because I told them it was my favorite brand of shoes at home, so it had to be good! -- sad but true) we went to some local bar... After hanging out there for awhile, we decided that it was too touristy, and that we wanted something more local, so we went to a different one -- recommended by the owner of our hostel. All was well and good for about an hour or so... After a while, however, I decided that I was going to try to make this one boys night and dance with him (he was in a wheel chair). So I took his hand, wheeled him out on the dance floor and we were having a great time. He spun me, and it didn't work too well... so without thinking I tried to spin him... the next thing I know he has flipped over backwards and fallen out of his wheel chair and onto his back. As if this wasn't bad enough, as a result of the complete and utter shock that I was experiencing, I turned, ran, and hid in a corner afraid to ever show my face again. I watched as his friends ran to his side and got him back in his chair, and felt my face turn purple, and my heart break. After running to his side, apologizing a thousand times, and giving him a kiss on the cheek, we decided it would be best for us to leave and just go back to the hostel...


So Saturday, to make up for the awful way my night ended on Friday, we began the day with St. Peter's Basilica... it was the absolute most beautiful thing I have ever seen. There wasn't an inch of the entire place that didn't take my breath away, and though I wanted to take a picture of every single bit, I didn't feel that pictures could even begin to portray the beauty that I was witnessing. From the statues of Jesus and Mary, to golden trimming around the entire Church, every single bit was created with care, with dedication, with thought, and with purpose.


I am not sure that such thoughts were necessary, or even appropriate, but as I was walking through this sacred space I couldn't help but think, "where did we go wrong?" At what point did humanity stop celebrating and appreciating not only the beauty that can be seen here, but also the faith. I can only imagine the blood, sweat and tears that went into perfecting each and every detail of each and every bit, from choosing the right color to paint the trim, to making sure that each and every wrinkle of my favorite statues face was placed perfectly, in order to evoke an exact, and intense emotion. This look of peace on this man's face most definitely created a stirring inside of me that I cannot even begin to put into words.

As the day continued, our adventure continued. We went to a wonderful little cafe for lunch, followed by a tour in which we got to see the Spanish steps, the pantheon, several more Basilicas, the beautiful back streets of Rome, and more... While wandering after the tour, I managed to buy not only a beautiful little water color from an artist on the street, but also a vintage ring that will remind me of my adventures in Rome. :) And on our way back to the hostel, I found my favorite building... I am not sure what it is about it, but I would give anything to be able to take this back home with me...
 To finish our night in Rome... we met up with a large group of other college travelers from all over the world, and we to a couple of local bars and clubs. Not only did we get a taste of how friendly and attractive Italian men can be, but also how creepy and inappropriate they can be... Overall, however, the night out was lots of fun, and friends were made from Rome, the US, England, and my favorite, a very nice boy from South Africa...

How thankful I am to have not only the opportunity to study abroad in Barcelona, but also the freedom to travel throughout Europe on the weekends, and the generous father who makes that possible. Just booked my plane tickets to Paris in a few weeks. YAY

Love and miss you all more than you know...

Be YOU...

The night life here in Barcelona is exactly what I was told it would be... unbelievable. When I say unbelievable, however, there are both negative and positive elements of the word. First, positive, is that it can be unbelievably fun. I had heard before of a "city that never sleeps," but now I am truly getting to experience what that means. Barcelona is not only awake, but also alive, and full of energy at all times.

 Though I have been out numerous times since I have been here and gotten little previews here and there, I hadn't had a true taste of the Barcelona fun until this weekend. The weekend began with Friday night's pretty intense apartment party with everyone in my program. It was in this INCREDIBLE apartment in the Gothic district right off of Las Ramblas. I know to someone who hasn't been to Barcelona, this means nothing, but it is the coolest place I have seen... ever.This photo does it little justice, but this is the view at about 1am from the apartment. The streets are little itty bitty, to the point where a car can just barely fit through them, but they seem to find a way. Each and every door on the bottom level is inhabited by any type of store-owner you can imagine. From china dolls, to cheap soccer souvenirs, to hot chocolate and churros, each and every inch is full. Above them all are apartments. The streets are full and busy always, and I'm not sure how people figure their way around in here, because to me, everything looks the same.


So after the fun at the apartment,

             we went out to an Irish bar...

This Irish Bar was extremely fun, but kind of interesting, probably because it was an Irish bar in the middle of Spain. Typical me... come about 3:00 am, when everyone else was ready to go to the discotec, I decided I was ready to go home... When all of the girls told me that wasn't an option, I tiptoe ran outside and hailed a cab, blowing kisses on the way :)

Saturday, despite the fact that I went in "early," I was so exhausted that the only activity I managed to take part in was a quick attempt at shopping with Nicki. Though we were extremely unsuccessful, and decided we were in no mood to shop, we did discover why exactly all the of the shops close on Saturdays except for in the town center: because all of Barcelona is shopping.
How could you resist this?

Saturday night the fun continued, beginning with Tapas and Cava (Barcelona champagne) to celebrate my sweet friend, Dara's birthday. After a yummy dinner, we went to the famous bar, Chupitos.
This bar is known for the fact that it has over 250 different shots that they serve, all different, all yummy, and all fun! For example, the birthday girl's first birthday shot... the "boy scout," which begins with a flame running straight across the bar, all the way to not only the shot itself, but also the birthday girl :( Thank God we made it out of there safe!!! The best part, however, was the PRECIOUS bartender, Leonardo... not only was he beautiful, but he also bought me shots and asked me to come back soon (don't worry Rodes, I'm not going to fall in love with a Spanish bartender).

After about 2.5 hours there, and lots of fun fun shots (Harry potter, bubbleyum, Lime, Black Widow, birthday cake, etc...) we made it out the door and took a cab to the discotec... my first one yet. I believe it was a success....

Not only did I have fun, but I believe the birthday girl did too... lots of dancing, doing our best to stay away from the Spanish men who are known here as "vultures," for the way they circle you while waiting for the perfect opportunity to make their move... Finally, around 4:00, I made it safe and sound to my wonderful bed... concluding the good about the unbelievable.

This word also has a different side for me though... which is where I get to the title of this blog post... "Be YOU." From the moment I decided that I was going to study abroad, I had these two nagging fears. The first, which I have mentioned many times, was that I would be forgotten while I was gone, but the second was a little more personal... that I wouldn't be liked. I'm not sure who exactly I was hoping would like me - the people in my group, my peers in Barcelona, the city of Barcelona, Spanish people in general - but for me this was a real, constant fear. Well a wise few people told me time and time again, "just be you." So where does this get to the unbelievable?

The Spanish nightlife is just one bit of my life here that is unbelievable in a scary way as well as positive. Though there is so much beauty, there is also a lot that I don't want to be a part of. Whether it be the insanity of some of the people on the streets at 4:00 am, trying to get me to join, or the angry women who refuse to give me a chance because I am a blonde american, I just keep hearing those words, "be you." Pretty cliché, I know, but working.

Be you, and they will love you. Be you, and you will be safe, healthy, and strong. Be you, and you will have a life changing experience, resulting in more growth and value than you ever imagined possible. Be you, and your Faith will grow strong. Be you, and you will fall in love with not only the city of Barcelona, and the Spanish community within it, but you will also love yourself.


"The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved... loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves."
Victor Hugo

A little bit different...

I guess the most appropriate place to begin to describe how different my life in Spain is would be my favorite difference... the dog situation. I thought that my family was as dog crazy as it got... but here its a different kind of crazy. No, these people do not have eight dogs when all the children are home, however, these people's dogs never stay at home. My Creative Writing professor told me that this was because the people in Barcelona are some of the most lonely in Europe, but I just think its because they are just as dog crazy as the Hart family is. The dogs wear rain coats, chic clothing, and prance around the streets like they own the place... and best part of all is that the most popular dog in Barcelona seems to be PUGS! This sweet little guy, is my most recent friend I made while out at the bars. As I was ordering my drink I looked over to see who exactly was sitting beside me at the bar, only to spy this sweet little guy. I have more in common with this place than I thought. Meet my friend.

Moving on, many people think that I am insane for joining a gym during my four month stay in Barcelona. In order to maintain my sanity and enjoy this adventure to the best of my ability, howwever, I know that I need to maintain my workout routine (just a moderate version). I found a sweet little gym and of all of the places I have managed to soak in the culture of Barcelona, this place has had a lot to offer. It is by no means my friendly neighborhood YMCA, but I have learned to make it work.

The grocery store, on the other hand, has proven to be a bit of a struggle. I have managed to find a few things that I can eat daily, so as not to starve to death... but things here are pretty different. Thus far, my shopping cart (they actually dont use sopping carts here, they fill up a basket and pull it behind them with a handle, making it like a wagon) has consisted of nuts, nutella, frozen brussel sprouts, turkey, pretzels, and a slightly odd version of hummus and green peppers. Though I am trying to branch out... when they placed a tapa in front of me at a restaurant that consisted of spicey miniature sausages, I about died. Therefore I am taking baby steps.

Each day I continue to live here, I both learn something new and adapt to something new. Thus far I have learned to order starbucks in spanish, to ride and understand Barcelona's metro, to protect my belongings from petty theives, to find my way around the crazy streets of Barcelona, etc... Adapting on the other hand is a little bit trickier. I am adapting to the paper thin walls, thus it sounding like I am sleeping on the street throughout the night. I am trying to not take it personally when people look the other way when I greet them with a smile. I have learned that here, time is not money... therefore when I enter a restaurant or a store, people are not catering to my needs, working for a good tip, or acknowledging the fact that the nicer they are the more I will buy... but rather they are rude; they are slow; when you ask for help, they sigh out of utter disbelief; they are not working for a tip, or trying to sell their merchandise; their time is precious to THEM, and therefore when anyone tries to interfere, it makes them very angry.

Today I was challenged to accept the Spanish Siesta, which is followed strictly in Barcelona. Being from the US, where there is always another errand to run, always another place to go, person to see, goal to reach, dollar to be made, skill to be perfected, etc... that is a very difficult challenge. But the truth is, what can it hurt. For the past twenty years I have been used to an extremely wonderful, yet fast paced life; it is all I have ever known. Nevertheless, where I am living for now, the entire city (aside from certain little cafés, restaurants, or markets) closes from 2-5 every single day, so that the people can enjoy a long lunch with friends, followed by coffee and perhaps a siesta. This, for example, is my street today at 3:00.

Not a soul to be found in the shops, and everyone on the street seems to be going home, or sitting at coffee with a friend. Pretty relaxed way of living, and no reason to complain about it... just constantly reminding myself to SLOW DOWN. Though I am constantly haunted by a nagging little fear in the back of my mind that everyone back in Nashville is forgetting about me, moving on without me, and that I am going to be lost when I get back home... today I stopped and looked around, and was absolutely overcome by the beauty of this place.

It was about 63 degrees, without a cloud in the sky... and its winter here. I have not a worry in the world, and my only responsibilities are to take care of myself, do my best in school, and soak up as much of Europe as I possibly can... I'd say life is pretty good right now.

Loving and missing you all A TON from Barcelona. Not a moment passes where you ALL aren't in my heart.

p.s. EVERYONE pray for and love sweet Tommy as he endures this crazy jaw surgery.

xoxox,

Why do I travel?

I was asked why I travel....

I travel in order to learn, and as I travel I come to the conclusion that there is so much more out there to learn than I ever could have imagined. My idea of the knowledge that I would be given upon leaving my home in Nashville is completely different from what I call knowledge sitting at a little desk on Calle Aragó in Barcelona: they aren’t even comparable.

Upon deciding to study in Spain I longed for a sense of adventure. I longed for the new sights, sounds, people and places I would see. I longed for a freedom to do whatever I wanted to do, be whoever I wanted to be, and become whoever I was meant to become without the pressures and demands of life at home; I longed for freedom I had only heard about, yet never truly enjoyed. When I was in the Dominican Republic I got the smallest taste of this freedom and it just left me wanting more.

I wanted more of the unknown. I wanted a chance to prove to not only everyone else, but also to myself that I could step out of my bright home full of love, and into the darkness and not only survive on my own, but also thrive on my own. I was traveling in order to force myself to take off all the protective layering that had kept me warm all my life, and rebuild all my defenses with my own strength, knowledge and intuition.

Now that I have lived in Barcelona for a week, and am attempting to make the transition from tourist, to traveler, my desires abroad have doubled inside. There was no way I could have dreamed of the potential this semester has, because everything about Spain, about Europe even was unknown. I had no idea what it felt like to live in a place that not only spoke one language I didn’t speak well, but primarily spoke another that I didn’t speak a word of. I had no idea how degrading it felt like to be looked at like a foreigner, or just another stupid tourist. I know no idea how liberating it would feel to not know a soul, and to be whoever I wanted to be, whoever I am; to have the tools and resources to answer all my questions about life, about love, and about faith from an entirely different perspective.

Now that I have begun my journey, I can already notice the slightest difference. I walk with my head a little higher already. I not only know exactly who I am, but also what else I want to become, and what I hope I never am. Each step I take I am given the opportunity to both thank God for who and what I have at home, and also the opportunity to take a little good from this place back home with me.

Despite all of these differences that I am seeing between the small home I am building in Barcelona, and my home in the United States, I am also learning that all people are the same. Though their skin, language, traditions, history, location, and everyday routines may be a little different, we all have the same hopes, wants, needs and desires. We all long for shelter, nourishment, education and fun; we all long for peace, safety, happiness and love. I travel in order to learn these differences, these similarities and to grow as a result of my knowledge, as well as leave a piece of my own heart and knowledge each place I visit.