Hey gang, sorry it's been a little while. Remember that technology illiteracy I mentioned in the first post? Well I had a spell of that, but all is well. Until I forget my password AND user name again..
So let me tell you about my trip to and through the airports. Hold on to your pants, kids. It's an interesting ride.
Honestly, considering the mental state I found myself in the night before I left (I did compare myself to someone about to throw themselves over a cliff..), I was in a pretty darn good state of mind as I prepared to leave. I had one moment in which I almost entered a state of panic, but I think anyone would. My whole family had gathered for a good-bye breakfast and had entered that lull in which the only thing you care about is the plate of food in front of you when my mother decides its a good time to mention that this is the last time we'll be eating together as a family in my childhood home. Did I mention that my family is moving while I'm in Italy? My childhood has officially ended. Needless to say, I was suddenly eating food that had magically transformed itself into sawdust which promptly started to form a blockade in my throat and I excused myself from that meal as soon as was politely possible. Next comes frantic rushing around, loading my bags and the drive to the airport all of which was fairly uneventful. My heart stopped a little as we pulled in, but no heart attack ensued.
My extended family met us at the airport and succeeded in keeping me distracted for the remaining hour. Finally came good-byes- first, my aunt, uncle and cousins, then my grandparents, my mom, my siblings (who all relented and actually gave me hugs), and my dad. I couldn't help but leak. I looked at my mom and told her I was going to put my big girl pants on. She laughed and said yeah. I leaked more. Then comes security where your family shamelessly continues to embarrass you in front of everyone present. The security guard got a little grumpy with me. "I can't read your papers if your mom keeps blinding me with her flash," was something I got from him. I kid you not. You push through, still leaking, manage security without totally looking like an idiot, throw one last look over your shoulder, blow a kiss and run like the devil before you really do lose it. I mean, its like that for everybody, right?
Once you convince yourself that this isn't a good-bye, simply a 'see you later,' life starts looking up. I alerted my security blanket that I was in fact still sane after the good-byes and hadn't attempted any ridiculous escapes from the airport. (Yes, I had been formulating possible escape plans in case of full out panic.) Boarding was uneventful as was the flight to Chicago.
Once I landed in Chicago, apprehension started to get the best of me again. I have never had to navigate a major airport on my own before and I was terrified about getting lost. It was absurd how much this concerned me. The last thing I wanted on my plate was a missed flight. I found my way quite well and was in excellent spirits. It's that first moment when I realized that I really was capable of all this and I wasn't crazy for wanting to do it in the first place. I was queen of Chicago O'Hare International Airport and I was confident that I would add many other principalities to my title.
My flight from Chicago to Madrid had few significant points. I sat next to a boy who looked around my age who I dubbed "Earphone Boy" in my head because the only words we said to one another were about earphones and he didn't take his out the entire flight. Despite the lack of verbal communication between Earphone Boy and myself, I have never felt my in tune with the male psyche than that experience. I don't know what came over me, but the only care in the world I had the duration of my flight was about food. I was ravenous and I ate EVERYTHING that was brought to me. Considering I normally eat like a five year old, this is quite impressive. We both chowed down like we hadn't eaten in a few years and when we saw the stewardesses heading our way, we popped up in our seats in perfect synchronization.
Although I secretly loved this odd connection with Earphone Boy, I loved the small treasures I encountered even more. I noticed that right as we were flying over the Atlantic coast, the sun was setting. It was the end of the day, the end of my time in the US, and it was time to rest. And there was great comfort in that. I also got a perfect view of the sunrise that morning, right as we were coming up on the Atlantic coast in Spain. It was perfect. The old and the new so wonderfully captured and the moment was all mine.
But moments pass and it was time to face the Madrid airport. For all you Harry Potter fans, the best way to describe the Madrid airport is like the Ministry of Magic. You're taking lifts up and down, and everything is perfectly timed and it just has that feel to it. It's a cool airport, but its anything but magic. I left the plane thinking I had roughly an hour and a half to make it to my next gate. A quick double check proved me wrong- my plane was boarding and I had thirty minutes before take-off. Long story short, after hurtling through customs and security, thirty minutes is not enough time to get through the Madrid airport. I was given the wonderful opportunity to wave good-bye to my plane as I saw it still sitting in the gate waiting for clearance. This prompted a very rough personal moment in the bathroom.
Once I was a reasonable human being again, I got another flight about which the airline was very nice about, and found a restaurant with WiFi. Only it turns out you still need a password for the WiFi and I didn't know how to get it. So the next shot to inform someone, anyone, of my predicament is the handy dandy international phone my mother insisted I have. Which doesn't make calls. Just sends texts. To phones whose owners are dead asleep seeing as its 3am their time. Just imagine Home Alone, but international style and in an airport. Again, as soon as you let the terror pass, a little goes a long way and your day improves remarkably. A smoothie and a good book makes the world much brighter and soon I was actually looking forward to the idea of calling a taxi considering I was missing the ISA shuttle to the hotel in Rome. I found myself a little sad to leave Madrid. I greatly appreciated what I learned there. Sure, freak out a little bit and get it out of your system and then let a healthy outlook take the place of the freaking out. Realize that you are capable and know that scaring your mom is actually a little fun. Why else are the Home Alone movies such a treasured childhood favorite? Above all, relish that you have the opportunity to experience this "terrible" happenstance. Sometimes, the best things are the unexpected. I got to do something I didn't think I could do or would have to do, but I did. And I liked it. I loved the independence and the atmosphere and walking around with four or five different languages filling the air around me and paying with Euros for the first time and and the view of the mountains I could see surrounding the airport and knowing the God had kept me safe through it all. And in the end, that's all you really need.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Saturday, August 25, 2012
That Scary/Electrifying/Mind-Numbing/Astonishing First Step
Hey All and Welcome!!
I'm a first time blogger, so please bear with me as I work to step up to this new learning curve (I might also be battling a severe case technology illiteracy). As you may or may not have guessed from the title of this blog, I'm going to be spending some time in Italy in the very, very, VERY, near future. As in tomorrow near. Technically today depending on how you work the after midnight rule, but this is all trivial details. I'm sure you're asking where in Italy I'm going and why. Funny you're asking that because I just so happen to have an answer for you! I will be in Florence, Italy for a semester of study abroad. Yep, a semester. A whole semester. That's four whole months. A third of a year. It's not completely obvious that I'm freaking out about the duration of this experience, is it?
Actually, I'm freaking out about a lot of things, which is quite an unusual phenomenon for me. As a type B personality, it takes quite a bit to really push me to the point of discomfort. Really, I'm serious, ask my mother. It drives her crazy and almost cost me this adventure, but that's another story for another day. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been homesick and leaving home for a totally strange and unknown place is not an unfamiliar circumstance for me. I'm finding that there are plenty of things to be concerned about in this case. Like the food. Sure, everyone warns you about the Freshmen 15, but knowing my ardent love for Italian food, the Foreign 40 is starting to sound like a real possibility. What if my classes are taught in Italian??? Now that I think about it, I don't remember the course descriptions specifying whether a class was taught in Italian or English. I'm praying to the merciful Lord above, who I believe to be quite a realiable guy considering he has successfully guided me through the past 21 years, which cannot be claimed as an easy feat (again, reference Karen Gormley on this one), that my classes are in English. Please let them be in English!! Speaking of the Big Guy Upstairs and being the Catholic loving girl that I am, will I be able to get anything out of the Mass if it's not said in English? I'm guilty of daydreaming even in the midst of my native tongue. What if the toothpaste tastes weird? What if my luggage gets lost? What if no one wants to be friends with the awkward kid who waited until her Senior year to study abroad? How am I going to drink water without ice? What am I going to do without all my friends and family? What am I missing back at my home university? What if all the clothes I just crammed into only two suitcases make me look like a class A dope? What I can't sleep without my bear? What if all my grand dreams don't come true? Honestly, I think its the last question that makes me hesitate most of all. I'm been planning and dreaming for so long and now its here and I have no idea what's actually going to happen or what to do with myself. I'm OK with winging it, but this is so entirely new. I jumped off a cliff once (into water, silly. Who do you think I am?) and this moment reminds me of the that. I'm here. It took work, but I'm here. I'm on that edge and every nerve in my body could probably serve as its own electricity source. All you can do is stand there and look over the edge. And even as you stand there, there's that little voice in the back of your head, saying, as snarky as can be, "You know, you still have to jump. Standing here isn't going to change that. Just go already." Then, there's a couple false starts, a few moments of panic, finally the free fall. And you hate and love every moment of it. If you haven't caught on, I'm perched on that cliff, all over again. There's a lot of peace and terror in this. Don't ask me how that works, but that's what's going on. We'll chalk it up to the fact that it's currently almost 2 in the morning. I'm ready, but I'm not. I want to see the change this is going to bring to my life, but I'm not sure I'm willing to accept all the change that is going to take place just yet. I'm a walking hyperbole.
With all this being said now, all that's left to do is put the last few touches of packing together, say a Hail Mary and get the show on the road! But I'm real serious about that Hail Mary. The last thing I need is to get there and realize I didn't pack any underwear.
....
Crap, did I pack underwear?
I'm a first time blogger, so please bear with me as I work to step up to this new learning curve (I might also be battling a severe case technology illiteracy). As you may or may not have guessed from the title of this blog, I'm going to be spending some time in Italy in the very, very, VERY, near future. As in tomorrow near. Technically today depending on how you work the after midnight rule, but this is all trivial details. I'm sure you're asking where in Italy I'm going and why. Funny you're asking that because I just so happen to have an answer for you! I will be in Florence, Italy for a semester of study abroad. Yep, a semester. A whole semester. That's four whole months. A third of a year. It's not completely obvious that I'm freaking out about the duration of this experience, is it?
Actually, I'm freaking out about a lot of things, which is quite an unusual phenomenon for me. As a type B personality, it takes quite a bit to really push me to the point of discomfort. Really, I'm serious, ask my mother. It drives her crazy and almost cost me this adventure, but that's another story for another day. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been homesick and leaving home for a totally strange and unknown place is not an unfamiliar circumstance for me. I'm finding that there are plenty of things to be concerned about in this case. Like the food. Sure, everyone warns you about the Freshmen 15, but knowing my ardent love for Italian food, the Foreign 40 is starting to sound like a real possibility. What if my classes are taught in Italian??? Now that I think about it, I don't remember the course descriptions specifying whether a class was taught in Italian or English. I'm praying to the merciful Lord above, who I believe to be quite a realiable guy considering he has successfully guided me through the past 21 years, which cannot be claimed as an easy feat (again, reference Karen Gormley on this one), that my classes are in English. Please let them be in English!! Speaking of the Big Guy Upstairs and being the Catholic loving girl that I am, will I be able to get anything out of the Mass if it's not said in English? I'm guilty of daydreaming even in the midst of my native tongue. What if the toothpaste tastes weird? What if my luggage gets lost? What if no one wants to be friends with the awkward kid who waited until her Senior year to study abroad? How am I going to drink water without ice? What am I going to do without all my friends and family? What am I missing back at my home university? What if all the clothes I just crammed into only two suitcases make me look like a class A dope? What I can't sleep without my bear? What if all my grand dreams don't come true? Honestly, I think its the last question that makes me hesitate most of all. I'm been planning and dreaming for so long and now its here and I have no idea what's actually going to happen or what to do with myself. I'm OK with winging it, but this is so entirely new. I jumped off a cliff once (into water, silly. Who do you think I am?) and this moment reminds me of the that. I'm here. It took work, but I'm here. I'm on that edge and every nerve in my body could probably serve as its own electricity source. All you can do is stand there and look over the edge. And even as you stand there, there's that little voice in the back of your head, saying, as snarky as can be, "You know, you still have to jump. Standing here isn't going to change that. Just go already." Then, there's a couple false starts, a few moments of panic, finally the free fall. And you hate and love every moment of it. If you haven't caught on, I'm perched on that cliff, all over again. There's a lot of peace and terror in this. Don't ask me how that works, but that's what's going on. We'll chalk it up to the fact that it's currently almost 2 in the morning. I'm ready, but I'm not. I want to see the change this is going to bring to my life, but I'm not sure I'm willing to accept all the change that is going to take place just yet. I'm a walking hyperbole.
With all this being said now, all that's left to do is put the last few touches of packing together, say a Hail Mary and get the show on the road! But I'm real serious about that Hail Mary. The last thing I need is to get there and realize I didn't pack any underwear.
....
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