The Most Wonderful Time Of the Year

English is not my thing this week.

Nationalism- Not Just a Vocab Word Anymore

I remember being in 9th grade (not something I enjoy doing very often but still, it happens) and writing this word dutifully down in my Honors World History notebook, defining it as "the feeling of great pride towards ones country." I never gave the term much more thought than that; until now, that is.
I'd always heard that European countries were very proud of themselves, very nationalistic. They all have very rooted and strong cultures, unlike the melting pot that is America. In fact, one of the things I was most excited about upon hearing that I would be going to Spain. In my mind, it meant a plethora of splendor- people who were proud of their country meant they would be happy, right? Happy people are good! Sure, there were other thoughts in there somewhere (I do believe "I can take an AP test when I get back and pass, awesome" and "I freaking love Spanish hot chocolate" were in there somewhere) but that was the main idea.
I've been here two months now, and I think I have probably witnessed enough nationalism on both my part and the part of those around me to last me a lifetime. "Pride" and "enthusiasm" are not words grand enough to accurately describe the feeling of nationalism.
Now, what I'm about to say is not meant in any way to be a slander to the Spanish people. I love this culture very much, but it's been an observation of mine that they might just be a bit too proud of both their country for me to be comfortable.
Of course, there are many things about Spanish nationalism that I adore- the enthusiasm about the Spanish futbol teams, the flags everywhere, the pride they take in cooking traditional foods, and much more. There are also some things that rub me the wrong way. For instance, when I get asked how many times I've brought a gun to school or when I get laughed at by an entire classroom for mispronouncing a word or even told that there's no way I can possibly learn Spanish because I'm American, I start to wonder who taught these kids manners and respect. Sure, there are those people who are just rude in general, but for the most part this ignorance is considered normal.
I don't know about you, but I would never ask a Spanish person if they fight bulls as a hobby or a job, or tell them that the reason their economy is going down the drain is their 2 hour siesta every day. I recognize those as stereotypes, and would never treat them as a truth unless I was given solid proof to believe that they were, in fact, accurate. But not most of my Spanish peers. They don't recognize it as stereotyping- in fact, there was a girl in my Spanish Language and Literature class today who asked the teacher what the word "stereotipo" meant, and my teacher explained it like it was a word she hadn't expected any of us to have encountered before. Whatever happened to unity week in like 3rd grade when we learned to treat everyone equally and not to separate based on stereotypes and to not make assumptions? Apparently they haven't quite translated that into Spanish yet.
I've also developed quite a bit of nationalism for America while being here. I'm growing to appreciate the school system, and especially Summit, for its freedom and varied levels of difficulty. The responsibilities (especially those brought on by student jobs, driving, and being put in leadership positions in after school activities), I am realizing, are both greatly missed and loved for being the greatest teacher in maturity. Oregon is also becoming one of the greatest places in the world in my head. I always knew it was wonderful, sought out by people all over the world, whatever, but I never truly realized it until it was hundreds of thousands of miles away. I guess absence makes the heart grow fonder, at least in this case.
I know this has gotten fairly personal and even a bit rude but it's been a big part of my exchange. I'm realizing that being a world citizen means not only learning as much as possible about the world, it also means appreciating where you come from. I love my country and I love Spain, even though sometimes they seem to love themselves a bit too much. Nationalism is a good thing, a very important thing.

Traveling Whilst Traveling

I've had very nice opportunities to travel to different parts of southern Spain, and I'm going to have many more (Melilla for Christmas and Sevilla in the spring are positives!). I'm really very lucky:)

Granada

 To be honest, I don't really know very much of the story behind this cathedral. It's in the center of the town, and it's gorgeous. I went to Granada with a group of maybe 9ish other Rotary students, and for a couple hours in between meetings we explored the city. Luckily two were living with families there so they made sure we didn't get lost! It was really nice being surrounded by people who not only could I talk with in a language that I fully understand, but who are also going through many of the same things I'm going through. I love my exchange student friends because we help each other get through a lot. While I know it's important for me to have Spanish friends so as to learn the culture better, I've found that they don't always offer the friendship I need when I'm having homesick days or problems with some part of Spain. That's what the other exchangees are for:)

This is also something I don't know very much about, other than the fact that it's really pretty. My counselor lives in Granada and I'm hoping to visit her one weekend, and maybe she'll be able to explain things to me! That's one of the weirdest things I've gotten used to here, to be honest- not understanding anything. I've had to give up much of my stubbornness to just go along for the ride, because I just don't have enough knowledge of the language or of the place we are or of what people actually do here to try to take control. This is a bit different for me, but it's definitely good.

 Cordoba

 This is the courtyard of the cathedral. Cordoba is very well known for its mosque-turned-cathedral, which is both huge and gorgeous. Back when it was built it was traditional for cathedrals to have courtyards, and in Andalucia orange trees were always in the courtyards. There are dozens and dozens and dozens of orange trees in Cordoba, lining the streets and in this courtyard. Everything smells like oranges and it made me so happy!

 Another view of the courtyard, this time with the fountain that's in the center! It was really pretty, though I don't think there had been any coins thrown in. I really loved the courtyard, and didn't want to leave it to go inside the mosque!

 This was the mosque portion of the building. The mosque part was much darker, with less windows and red/black paint and marble pillars. I really liked it, and greatly admired the detail that had been put into the paintings around the doorways like this one. Also, I got told not to dance by a security guard in this very spot. He thought it was funny that I was doing pirouettes casually in the middle of a mosque.

 I stood in the middle of the cathedral part looking up at the ceiling, breathless, for a good 20 minutes. It was without a doubt one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. I've been to cathedrals in many parts of the world before, but I think the light in this one just made it so incredible. I don't even know how to describe it!

On our way home from Cordoba we visited several museums dedicated to sculptures of famous Spanish things out of candy. This is Malaga constructed from chocolate, sugar, and frosting. I had a lot of fun seeing what parts of it I recognized, and also admiring the sheer detail of it.

My Name Is

I still have all those pictures that maybe one day I'll upload to make a blog post, but lately I've been feeling a bit uninspired to do anything but eat chuches and wear multiple pairs of socks. Winter has come earlier than I'd expected it to (not that 50 degrees and cloudy is winter but still, it's December) leaving me in need of a puffy black vest to keep me warm and strange Spanish study habits to not fail my finals.
But along with those situational needs has come an annual thing, something that affects me every year regardless of where I am. My mom calls it "the Winter Blues" and for a couple weeks it gets me down and makes it hard for me to do things like type for longer than thirty seconds and smile. Luckily I'm learning how to combat it by surrounding myself with people who give me hugs and/or chocolate, but being productive is still a bit difficult.
I've recently found that some of my favorite people to give me hugs and/or chocolate here are the members of my host family. Making friends has proven to be a bit of the challenge (big surprise, Hannah's having trouble getting along with teenagers even on the other side of the world) but especially lately I've been growing closer to my host family.
With my family thousands of hundreds of lots of miles away it's nice to have a brother to watch TV with, a mom to gossip with, a dad to discuss politics with, and a sister to laugh and color with. Even though she's only 9, Ana and I have this cute little bond that means we can keep secrets together, do homework together, watch Disney Channel together, read silly books together, and snuggle each other awake on those mornings when we're especially tired. I'm very lucky to live in a house with such a similar family dynamic to my own, and even luckier to get on with the family itself.
It's a different bond than that which I have with the my American family, for sure. I mean, I've only known them for two months, we barely speak the same language, and they already had established a family relationship long before I came along. So, while they may call me a daughter or a sister (which makes me tear up and want to give everyone hugs) and I may call them my Spanish family, they're a different kind of family than what I've grown up with, and not just because they look different.
This is not bad in any way. In fact, it's actually rather awesome. I get to have homes in two different parts of the world, two sets of trusted adults to help me, and two sets of kids my age that I can do everything from bickering to making cookies with. It may contribute to the tearing sensation inside me that comes with being rooted in two completely different places at the same time, but that's one of the reasons I went on exchange- to become a world citizen.
My name in Spanish makes me feel very much like a world citizen. Hannah, pronounced with a Spanish accent, is my Hebrew name, which represents my religious and cultural background filled with learning to give to the less fortunate and eating with family. Leah is from my mom's mom, and it gives me the grace and stubbornness from that side of the family. Goldstein is from my dad's family, the part of me that's loyal and just a little bit insane. And, finally, the name that my host parents have started calling me by- Castillejo. That is from my Spanish family, which has taught me the importance of stability and exploration. I also have an incessant need for order and a natural rhythm that I'm starting to suspect is the Spaniard in me, and it just took this exchange for me to figure that out.
I love my name and what it says about me. It shows my family over the continents, and even helps explain some of my attributes. Being so far from home, though, has made me realize how much I really do love America, so I think I need just one more name- one to show my pride and sense of adventure, an American name. I'm thinking something outrageous like "Murca" but no one has ever called me that except myself that one time about 3 seconds ago. I'm not in any sort of a rush, though. What do you guys think?
Even through these pesky winter blues I'm finding contentment in my family, both new and old. They make me who I am, and finding contentment with them helps me to find contentment with myself which I guess is one of the most important parts of growing up.

El Palo Tour- My School

A couple notes: yes, we did go to English and no, no one was there. That kid Tony really did just start following us around because he was excited that we were speaking English. 

Also... I'm having Thanksgiving with my host family and some exchange student friends on Thursday, so pictures are to come. 

An Update in My Life

So, this is yet another video update, it gets a bit more personal than a travel blog should but just keep in mind that you don't have to watch this. Also I apologize for the turtleneck.

Solitude is Bliss

Thank you all very much for the birthday wishes/presents/cards/letters. I had an excellent time celebrating turning 17 here in Spain. I'm very happy right now, which is good. I'm also learning life lessons all over the place, which is also good.
I was Skyping my mom last night and, being the Journalism Mom (like a Dance Mom but not really at all) that she is, she asked me what kind of article I'd write about my experience here so far. I laughed at that for a bit, but then I thought about it seriously. What would I write about? I could definitely compose a solid list of complaints or gush for pages about everything I love, but that's not exactly something worth publishing. After a couple minutes I said that, if I had to be entirely honest, I'd write about what it's like to be alone.
I've felt alone at many points in my life at varying levels of intensity. There was the time I got lost in the woods in Canada, the first time I was left home alone by myself, when I went to Washington DC without my family, all the times I feel left out of a conversation, etc. But never have I ever been as alone as I am right now. It's not even a bad thing- I actually rather enjoy it. It's an educational thing, really, and it's teaching me to be comfortable with myself.
I have always been a pretty independent person, but I never really even knew what that meant before coming here. I have always (mostly) made my own decisions. But until Spain, I had always unknowingly been influenced by something or someone. I knew the social norms of where I lived, what my friends and family thought, what I was predicted or expected to do, how the people around me would react to different things. Here I have none of that knowledge. This may be inconvenient, being surrounded by completely foreign ideas and people all day long, when all I want to do is hug my little sister or have a nice peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but it can also be beneficial. In many ways, it has freed me. I am still held to a certain standard by my host family and by myself, but I am also largely allowed to do what I want and find out who I really am.
Being yourself is hard when people who you've known for years and years already have an idea of who they think you are. Being yourself is easy when you don't have the language skills, energy or memory capacity to pretend to be anyone else for longer than a minute or so. I can't remember the difference between "cuchara" and "cuchillo" (words I use rather frequently) so I definitely can't remember the difference between all the different ways I present myself when speaking to different people. I am forced to wear one face because not only am I too tired to keep track of a bunch of different identities, but I really only want to be one person; myself.
When I was younger someone told me that in elementary school you find your role as a family member, in middle school you find your role as a friend, and in high school you find your role as yourself. I think that was one of the main reasons I so frequently separated myself from everyone when I was still in Bend (that, and the fact that I don't tend to like most people, so if I've given you this link feel special cos it must mean I like you)- it's impossible to get to know yourself if you are constantly surrounded by people with their own opinions, way of speaking, life goals, etc. People don't realize how great of an influence the people you interact with have on you. Being alone is very important when you are trying to figure out who you are. Here in Spain, I spend a lot of time both physically and mentally alone. It takes me 45 minutes in the morning to take the bus to school and most of the time I don't see anyone I know on my commute, which means I get some good thinking time in. Also most of the time I get very frustrated not being able to understand anything that's going on when everyone's speaking in rapid Andalucian Spanish, so I remove my thoughts from the conversation and get some good thinking time in then, too. I've learned some  very important things about myself from all this thinking time. For instance, I may be regarded as intelligent by some but I am definitely not an academic; an important distinction, as choosing a college used to be based on academics for me but now I know I'd rather choose based on the experience it can give me.
Another way being alone has made me get to know myself is by seeing how I handle challenges and struggles. My whole life is a challenge right now- unless you have ever been in a scarily similar situation to mine, you cannot understand how difficult it is not understanding the language, social norms, grading system, anything about the place you are now LIVING in- and as a result much of what I do defines who I am. Dealing with a tough situation brings out who we really are, I've always thought, and the fact that I'm doing it all on my own has helped me realize a great deal of things about myself that I wouldn't have been able to learn had someone been helping me. For instance, when a friend of mine lost her wallet on a long-gone bus I learned that I'm actually an optimist when I immediately began listing off solutions and ways to fix this and how she could get her wallet back and who we could call, etc. That was huge for me, because my melancholiness has always tricked me into believing I'm a pessimist. In reality, I'm just a slightly sad optimist.
I've always enjoyed being alone, but here solitude is more than just bliss; it's an important way for me to learn who I am. I am becoming less and less defined by the people I surround myself with and the places I go and more and more defined by me.