Bienvenido a Barcelona

The croissant they served us for breakfast on the plane seemed fitting, given we were about an hour from landing in Barcelona, Spain. Being so close to France, a croissant is a very common snack here. Surprisingly, I got some sleep (after I contorted myself into the fetal position in a tiny airplane seat, which apparently was the position my body demanded for me to fall asleep.) Nine hours in a plane is not fun. Of course, there were lots of Spaniards on my flight, and seeing the difference in their behaviors and attitudes was quite striking. So many of them were so upbeat and peppy, even after such a long flight. I heard laughter, saw smiles, and felt some of that carefree vibe that people around here just seem to give off. How do they do that? Even speaking with one of my program directors, who is from London, it seemed that this city just exudes "relax" and "life's good." Although, having read up on Spain, life is not exactly fantastic. There are still troubles and problems to deal with, but the stress level just seems to not exist here, at least not in public.

But I'm not complaining...I'm in Barcelona; that city that infected me with the bug. The I-need-to-go-everywhere-and-anywhere-I-can bug. Note: there is no remedy for this bug; only more travel. Upon arriving at the airport, I was greeted by one of the assistants to the school I will be attending (by the way, I'm here to learn how to teach. In 4 weeks, yes, but let's hope they're some incredibly intensive 4 weeks.) As he drove me to my homestay, my eyes wandered around, dancing over all of the sights. Some were familiar (Mount Tibidabo!), others weren't (where did that above-ground cemetery come from?) It was as if I were in a dream. Then I realized I was broke and had to penny-pinch to the extreme. I think that's when I woke up.

All kidding aside, I am beyond happy to be here. Without sounding too gushy, there are so many people to thank for this experience. Above all, my parents. Without them, I never would have been enrolled in an English-teaching course in Barcelona, and then on my way to Ecuador for a job as a teacher. My parents supported me right from the start, which is a lot more than some people can say. I realize how lucky I am. I feel almost like a rich brat (which I'm NOT) when people ask me if this is my first time in Barcelona, and I answer "no, I was here last summer." It makes me feel privileged, which I suppose I am, truthfully. It makes me feel a bit guilty when I talk about where I've been and what I've done. I hear it all the time, "I can't afford it." Well, honestly, neither can I. I got loans, I spent my life savings, then saved up for a year and spent my life savings again. I had tremendously generous people who believed in me help me out. I'm in debt. How American.

Speaking of being American (or, I should say, from the U.S;) I already experienced some-I'll call it dislike-over my nationality. I know lots of people from other cultures don't like people from the States, or have skewed perceptions of them. Likewise, people from the States have false ideas about other cultures as well. I'm probably the first U.S. citizen to say I'm not really "proud to be an American", as awful as that sounds. I have some beefs with this country, but don't we all? Anyway, I went into a tienda today, and the cashier was not Spanish, but she wasn't from the States either. I want to say she was from India. And what the hell, I happen to find India's culture one of the most interesting! So, there were two customers ahead of me (both Spanish), and the cashier is very polite and courteous and all. Then she gets to me, and transforms into an ice queen. I say "thank you" and "have a nice day" in Spanish, and she doesn't say anything. I wait for a few seconds, and she scolds me for saying "have a nice day." According to her, it wasn't the right time of day to say that. Then she stares at me until I leave. Ouch...I have now been on the receiving end of prejudice. And there was a slice of humble pie at this end. Live and learn! (Does this change my perceptions of people who share that cashier's nationality? No way.)

On a positive note, my homestay is nice. My hostess is kind, and her apartment is huge! I swear, "apartment" here means "palace." I think it's the size of my dad's house, if you aligned all the rooms horizontally. Also, everything is on an overwhelming scale...the entrance has huge iron gates, the elevator is tiny, but old school with hinged doors, and most of the rooms are spacious and open. My homestay is on the 4th floor, and the architecture is a little ornate and decorative. The doors are almost floor-to-ceiling and on a grand scale. There are two balconies that bring a refreshing breeze through the hallway. Downside: pigeons like to congregate outside my bedroom window. Hopefully they're not as bad as Philly pigeons, but these ones can actually fly. The apartment is situated in a less hectic part of the city, but a straight shot to the more popular cafes, shops, and restaurants. There are 4 others living here, and 3 of them will be taking the same course as me. So that's exciting! More on them in a later post.

Tomorrow is our first day at the school. I'm super-excited. I can't wait to meet people, to learn, and to be overwhelmed (in a good way!) I'm going to see if I can do this 4 week stint here without a metro pass, because it will save me money. Hm...what do you think?

Hasta pronto!

Felicidad

I feel light as a feather! Good news all the way.

I got word back from the Consulate that my visa application has been APPROVED and is ready for pick-up! Just need to get to NYC to retrieve it. Another day trip is calling.

Also, I received important documents from the CEDEI, where I will be teaching in September. In Ecuador! This makes it feel more real, but of course I won't fully believe it until I'm actually teaching.

Also getting in touch with other teachers who are coming to Cuenca as well. One's from New Jersey, and there's another from York, PA. Funny, we are travelling to another continent to meet people who live in the same (or neighboring) state. There's also someone from England, which is exciting because I want to learn about as many cultures as I can. And I am on a roommate search...

I am getting more invested in my artwork as well. Always a good thing! I just finished a drawing that I like a lot, I posted it on my "Artwork" page. It was an exploration in our basic human drives; the Id, if you will.

My dad, being my dad, scheduled an impromptu rendevous to Wildwood, NJ for this coming Tuesday and Wednesday. Of course I'm down for it! It's just that my sister works a crazy schedule as a waitress, and since my dad scheduled last minute (like he always does), she probably can't go. Then, my dad said he'd just cancel the reservation, to which I strongly objected. So, as of now, we're still going, but knowing him, who knows?

I do know that on Saturday I have a much-anticipated date with my mom and her boyfriend, Don. He's awesome. I'll save my gushing for later, but we're planning on hitting up the Poconos for a day-trip. Hopefully, the weather won't be atrocious (there are thunderstorms in Saturday's forecast), but either way, we'll find an alternative. I've been bothering my mom for a long time about the three of us getting together. She should relish the fact that I strongly approve of her boyfriend, and actually want to hang out with my mother!

Someone I am always in the mood to hang out with is the amazing Tanya. She's my best friend, and I don't use that title loosely. I haven't had a friend like her in...jeez, a long time. I like to think our souls were just meant to be close friends. Hopefully seeing her next week as well.

The days are winding down to when I hit the skies for Spain, and then Ecuador. So, I'm going to make them fantastic! Yet, I should have this outlook every day, not just in this special circumstance. Every day gives us the opportunity to enjoy life; to bask in the pleasures of family, friends, pets, and even complete strangers. To appreciate the beauty of nature, which is free (!), and to reflect on what truly makes us happy. Material goods cannot bring the same joy as sitting beneath a shady tree, listening to birds, or feeling the breeze on your face. Too hippie for you? Good. We all need that.

Abrazos!

Job Today, No Job Tomorrow

"Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you belive is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle."

-Steve Jobs

With that quote in mind, I am to say that I have quit my job! My job at a shoe store in the mall, that is. It just wasn't working out...I was getting about 10 hours a week, as well as underperfoming and "losing money for the store". Guess I'm just not a  good salesperson. That, and I couldn't care less about shoes (there goes the theory that girls are shoe-obsessed).

Thankfully, my mother fully supported my decision to quit. We would both rather have me be happy my last few weeks in the States than have me be miserable, since I was pretty miserable at work. Maybe that's why I was so bad at it?

My mind's been in another place, that's for sure. Thinking about my trip probably got in the way of reciting a good sales pitch for a pair of Nike Free's or Jordan's. This job did teach me one thing: there are way too many Nike's.

Okay, the job did teach me more than that. It taught me how to have good communication with others. Since I was working on commission, it was important to establish rapport with my customers, and talking with them was usually a highlight of the job (I do love to talk!) I often found it difficult to help out however, since I know absolutely nada about shoes. You want a pair of shoes for your sore feet? Get some Nike's. You need some sneakers for your frail grandma? Get some Nike's. You want matching kid's shoes for your twins? Get some Nike's.

I hate Nike's.

It made me sad at work to know that some poor, underpaid, probably underage worker had to slave away to assemble these shoes, and now I'm selling them for $180. Yes, people quickly and easily spend $180 on a single pair of sneakers. Why? I have no idea. I'm just going to stop there with my viewpoint, in case anyone reading is okay with purchasing a pair of sneakers for a ridiculous amount of money, but seriously, there are other quality shoes to buy at a much cheaper price.

On top of selling shoes for an astonishingly large amount of money (which is supposed to be easy, apparently the shoes sell themselves, I was told), I needed to demo to every customer our insoles, waterproofer, cleaner, laces, etc. Maybe I was stuck in the mindset that customers might be like myself...I can't stand when a salesperson hovers over me, trying to show me every item in the store, especially when I'm merely browsing...so I was pretty terrible at this aspect of the job, too.

Ah, good riddance! That job is over, so these complaints can end (sorry, I don't like complaining either). I made a meager sum that I can add to the travel fund. This is actually my current life savings; I had to use my life savings last year to go to Barcelona, so after that I had to start from scratch. Ouch.

Speaking of money, I've been going through my small collection of possessions, trying to narrow them down (again), and hopefully make some money off of them. Some shoes, clothes, CDs (yeah, I still listen to them), my prom dress (only wore it once, good thing we didn't go all-out on it), etc. I need money...story of my life. I will not let money stop me from pursuing my dreams. Heck no, I'm not going out like that! I will find a way to do what truly makes me happy, as well as earn a decent living. I don't want to be rich, no way. I don't want to be a beggar, not good. I want to be happy (the ultimate dream). Time to wake up and make it happen! Don't just dream it, DO IT!

Newfound Purpose

I feel...wonderful!

Lately, as this blog suggests, I've been uninspired, unmotivated, and frankly, just kind of lost in myself. It's been this feeling of being inert while still moving; just going through the motions, but mostly because I had to, because I knew I had to do something...

Very recently, I had a nice chat with a friend. This friend is fantastic, a person who embodies the most positive aspects of a human being...generous, compassionate, and encouraging, even in a grim situation. I am extremely thankful for this person!

Our talk was filled with all sorts of topics...idle chatter, deep thoughts, concerns for the future, but more important, the here and now. I like to focus on the present moment, but oh, isn't it so hard in a world where "we'll be happy when we do (fill-in-the-blank)"? When I graduate, retire, get a house, a job, a dog, etc. Why can't we be happy now?

We can!

Yet, so many of us are afraid to be happy. I seriously believe that. Some people are genuinely afraid to be happy. For, if we are happy, we must not be working hard enough, we must not be doing enough, we must be slacking off, right? How many times have you heard someone brag about how stressed out they are, how much work they have to do, how many sleepless nights they've had? Why are they boasting about this? I admire the person who takes a step back and acknowledges the successes they've had, but also, the struggles they've faced. Nobody dies with their inbox empty, you know...there will always be things to do, but the number-one priority should be our inner happiness and peace. One cannot take care of others if they first cannot take care of themselves.

The chat I had with my friend also got me reinvigorated in terms of my artwork. I had a few ideas written down for sketches I wanted to do, but I was having so much trouble getting motivated to actually sketch. After our conversation, I got so amped up, I immediately got to work on a sketch, and I am now transitioning it into a complete drawing. And, my friend (who shall remained unnamed for now, since I did not ask permission) deserves credit for giving me the idea of how to approach my idea. Awesome subject matter, kind of trippy, too. Working on this piece has rekindled that artistic fire in me, and I hope to keep it lit!

On another note, Thursday was an eventful day, and I am hoping it has a happy ending, as that is still pending. My mom and I took the MegaBus to NYC (yay, day trip!). The purpose of our travel was actually very important; I was heading to the Ecuadorian Embassy to apply for a Cultural Exchange Visa, which would permit me to live in Cuenca, Ecuador for a year.

I have accepted a job as an English teacher at the CEDEI (Center for Inter-American Studies) in Cuenca, Ecuador for one year. I am crossing my fingers tightly that my visa application is approved. I really see no reason why it shouldn't; I had all of the necessary documents (no criminal history, clean bill of health, the documentation from the school, passport photos, application form, the cash payment, my passport); all that's left to do is wait. Argh!

Being "loca" me, I realized I forgot my passport as my mom and I were riding the el into Center City. Lucky for us, I discovered this at our second stop, so we hopped off, and my dad came to the rescue by driving my passport to the station we were at. After scolding me, of course. Heh heh.

We did have a mini-scuffle when we arrived at the Embassy...my mom got pretty upset that we had to wait even longer after sitting in the office for my named to be called, just so I could hand in my application. We were told I would have to wait 24 hours, and come back to the office to pick up my visa (if approved). As we don't live in New York City, this would require another day trip. Bad news: another MegaBus ticket and 2 1/2 hour bus ride to NYC. Good news: another chance to make a day of being in NYC! Let's always look at the bright side...

I'm not even going to really think about if I don't get my visa application approved. I honestly see no reason why I shouldn't. Everything was there! I will be arriving in Ecuador on September 1st, so we have until then to get this ball rolling...

...on a side note, the bus ride home was quite an adventure in itself. The MegaBus is a double-decker bus, and on the way to NYC, my mom and I sat upstairs. For the return trip, my mom suggested we sit on the bottom level. Not a problem, although I thought it was really fun sitting up high, but I didn't mind. So, we took our seats, and within ten minutes my mom was regretting it...some girl a few years younger than me with a strong British accent gabbed and gabbed the entire time...almost 3 hours, mind you. Worse yet, she was with her boyfriend (the two repeatedly sucked face loudly), and he was seated behind her, so she was basically facing my mom (who was sitting next to her across the aisle). Her talking was right in my mom's face, and while I had to resort to my iPod at times, my mom was stuck with this girl talking incessantly about nothing for hours. I offered my earphone to my mom a few times, but she declined. "At least I raised an intelligent daughter" she told me, as we laughed at how thick this girl was, as she couldn't pick up any of the hints that we dropped that maybe she should keep it down for the other passengers (most of who were alseep...curse me and my mom's inability to sleep in vehicles)! Still, it was rather funny, and we joked about it all night.

Overall, this trip was a nice getaway with my mom. Even though we are polar opposites on almost everything, I love her to death, seriously. This woman works hard nearly every day for her children. She fully supports me in all of my wild and crazy dreams, and even plans to visit me in Ecuador! Her first priority was always, still is, and always will be, her children. I feel this even when she's upset with me, which hasn't happened in a while, actually...she's the person I always turn to when I get myself into a pickle, or when I want to share a jar of pickles. Heh heh heh! So, spending the day with her was fabulous. We chatted on the bus rides, got through the red tape that is visa policy, and shared a nice Mediterranean lunch (quiche, Greek salad, and Baklava...we're so bourgeious, or as I say, boojie).

I'll be sure to update when I hear back from the Ecuadorian Embassy, so let's all hope for the best!

Nota: I journal daily, and one of the things I do is list one thing I am thankful for each day. As I beef up this blog (what a fitting saying for me), I am going to incorporate that practice into my blog posts. So, today I am thankful for my mother. I've said it before and I'll say it again; being a mother is a job that I just am not cut out for...I'm much too selfish.

El Dia de la Independencia (Independence Day)

Ah, the 4th of July...barbecues, sunshine, fireworks...stampede?

I wanted to do something fun for the 4th of July this year (hey, I haven't been in the States for July Fourth since 2010!), so I convinced my sister to go to the festival going on downtown at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Better than sitting on the couch with my dad, I assumed.

We got to the Parkway around 9:30 pm, and it was what I expected: lots of young hipster-looking kids mixed with some ghetto-ness in a haze of marijuana smoke. We made our way closer to the stage, where J-Cole was singing (or trying to). Pass. Some country singer took the stage, and I thought it sounded kind of like Jason Mraz, but the country tinge was turning me off. He could sing, but it just wasn't my type of music. The Roots were high energy, and being from Philly, they had the crowd all pumped up. Yet, I was getting tired of smelling pot everywhere I turned, and I wanted a good view of the fireworks, whenever they were going to start.

My sister and I headed back toward Logan Square, and found a nice spot to see the show. It was 10 pm, then 10:30, and we were both getting tired (as were people around us). I honestly only came for the fireworks, so I was pretty firm that I didn't want to leave until we saw them. That's when Ne-Yo began singing on the big-screen perched on the Parkway, and we had to keep waiting. I griped for Usher to stop singing, then was corrected that it was Ne-Yo, not Usher. My sister got bopped in the head by a patriotic balloon some young-looking suburbanite was toting around. It amused us for a good 10 minutes, but I wanted these fireworks!

Finally, at about 11 pm, they got underway. I can't lie, I was disappointed. Maybe television makes them look more spectacular than they really are, because these fireworks weren't anything to write home about. Certainly not anything worth lugging myself from home, on the el, and down the Parkway in 90-degree heat and humidity to see. But, they were nice, and watching them explode over the Art Museum was a nice touch.

Right before the finale, a see a huge swarm of people to my right come stampeding towards us. All of a sudden, the entire crowd around us is in a frenzy. My sister and I latch onto each other; "I got you, I got you", I yell over the buzz of feet shuffling and babies crying. I saw several strollers go down, and I wanted to help ("That baby is on the ground!"), but I couldn't; I was being herded along by the stampede. We finally manage to get to a clear area, and we're so shaken, we just head for City Hall, holding hands.

"What was that?" my sister asks. "I don't know, but let's just get out of here", I answer, as we power-walk our way through the masses of people, past discarded shoes, hoagie wrappers, and beer bottles. We surprisingly catch the first train once we get through throngs of people crowding into the station. Smothered like sardines, my sister clings to me so I don't fall over (I'm small, and I get jostled around in that train easily!). It smells heavily of marijuana, and some drunk guy suggests that we all sing the National Anthem.

"O Say Can You See...", he belts out the "Star-Spangled Banner", singing the wrong lyrics half the time (no surprise there), and a few others join in, creating quite a spectacle. After they finish, or rather, just kind of trail off, chants of "USA! USA!" and "F**k Canada!" ring in the air. It's actually pretty funny, and I'm beginning to see all the madness I miss when I go to bed before 11 pm.

But, there's a scare when someone lets off a firecracker on the el, and people freak out and kids cry. Unfortunately, our stop is the last one, so we cram together as people hop on the train from other stops, and breath a sigh of relief when others get off. We finally make it to our stop at midnight, and the last hurdle is navigating 69th street after-hours safely. We make it home!

Too tired to shower, I just hit the hay. I wake up in the morning with a body and bedroom that smells heavily of pot. I worry that this stench is going to linger for a while, so I grab one of my dad's huge candles (he's got a whole cache), going for the Chocolate Mint scent. Ah...the room is filled with the aroma of that wonderful candle. I wash all of my clothes, and get paranoid that my work shirt is going to reek when I go into to work, and they'll kick me out for suspecting I'm a pothead. It takes about 2 days for the smell to finally vanish, but the internal scar remains. I don't care if you smoke pot, just do it away from me.

La gringa trabaja...The gringa works

Ah, yes, I have started my very first retail job. Yahoo. Welcome to real life.
Well, actually it's not that bad, I'm just not very good at it. I am working in a shoe store in the mall, and at least the job is high energy, and I get constant human interaction. This has alleviated my post-grad depression! I am very happy to report that!
After accepting that one of my managers and I have an extreme personality difference, things at work have been not bad. I do feel rather bad that I have to keep being re-trained, when a co-worker who started after me is already on top of his game. But it's all good, after all, he's a total sneakerhead, so this job comes naturally to him. Me? I can't tell you anything about footwear.
You walk in for a good running shoe? Look at the Nike's.
You need something to take the strain off your instep? Look at the Nike's.
You want something arthitis-friendly for your grandmother? Look at the Nike's.
I despise Nike's.
But I sell a lot of 'em. Over these past few weeks, I have learned more about the products I am selling. After all, customers are expecting me to be an "expert" when it comes to sneakers. I got introduced to a pair of Brook's shoes, and I must say, they are comfortable and make good shoes for exercise. So now I can ramble on about Brook's Asics, and the seemingly endless array of Nike's we carry in the store. So many Nike's! Too many. Some poor Bangladeshi boy worked for hours in horrible working conditions for pennies so that people in the States could buy them (on sale) for $140.99. I could cry.
But instead, I ring my customers up with a fancy-pants iStore that hates me. It is an Apple product, and it senses that I am the only 20-something in this country that has no iPhone experience. Therefore, it proceeds to malfunction nearly every time I use it. Then, my general manager will touch it, and it will spring to life. And then, I feel dumb, and the customer gets antsy. And this explains why I am working 2 days this week. Yahoo.

"Outsider Art"

My sister and I visited the Philadelphia Museum of Art this past rainy Friday afternoon, and the exhibit did not disappoint. This one was entitled 'Outsider Art', with an "outsider" basically being someone who has no formal art training. Artists included ex-prison inmates, clinically insane people, and farm workers. I saw a tower made of chicken bones! That was pretty intense, in a good way. It's amazing to see the art that people who never received formal education in art can create. And it's very inspiring.

Lately, I've been thinking about my own art. Am I "good" enough? Then I reminded myself, there is no "good" or "bad" art. A person can like or dislike a piece, but that doesn't make it good or bad. There are so many different styles, media, and approaches. I once saw a friend's work that I absolutely loved, and when I heard his process, I was thinking, "but that's not how you do it!", when I told myself, "hell, there are thousands of ways to create art!" That's the beauty of it!

On a therapeutic walk outside with my sister one night, I told her about my doubts as an aspiring artist. "I'm not going to paint you a pretty flower, or a realistic portrait, or a nice landscape", I said. Well, there's nothing wrong with that! "Maybe you would like installations", she suggested. And maybe she's right; it's worth a shot. I have grown to take interest in installations, in fact, another friend emailed me a website that featured an installation , an ironic look at death and violence. Okay, maybe I don't need to go that morbid, but installations could be fun.

I've also taken a liking to comics art, thanks to my best friend, a self-proclaimed comics nerd. That sketchy, almost un-finished, spontaneous-looking art that grabs your gaze appeals to me. Plus, there are so many different styles of comics art. And it's a very convenient way to tell a narrative (something I love to do with my art).

So, I guess along with the soul-searching I'm already doing, I will do some art-soul-searching as well. Artistic creativity has always been a part of me; I can't imagine myself without it. Lately, I've been going through that post-grad depression, and my art has been suffering. But, it can be a form of therapy, something to get my anger, fear, frustration, and hopes out into the open. Without scaring my mother. She often gets frightened by some of the words that come out of my mouth ;-)

I live in a good place for artistic inspiration, especially if we're talking satire. Think Dada art (love it). Sometimes, I feel as if I am trapped in a black hole, a foreign country where I don't speak the native language. It is possible to feel like a stranger in your "home". Don't fight it, embrace it. Use it productively, creatively, SLAM IT WITH ART!