Home

It's been over a week since I first landed in American soil- 9 days to be exact- and I still haven't found a way to sum up just how strange I've been feeling. It all started when I had to pay for a single dose of Dayquil with a handful of coins and I couldn't remember the difference between a nickel and a dime. I spent a good minute or two trying to sort out all these irrational, worthless coins that I barely recognized, something I hadn't thought would be so confusing but that was. It all sort of just hit me from there. I wrote a really poetic analogy the other day of how it was like a dull force shooting straight at me and striking me in slow-motion, something I do a lot when I'm too overwhelmed to actually face the situation I'm in. I guess you could say I turn to metaphors when some turn to alcohol. Ahem. Anyways. It's weird being home. It's even weirder being home as an entirely different person. I feel so torn and confused and fuzzy. I ought to start making giant lists, but even that seems a task far too daunting for me.
Quite honestly, it's not even that I wish I was back in Spain. I do miss it and my friends and my family there, but I'm glad I'm in Bend. I'm just not so glad that I have to make this giant transition when everyone around me seems to think that I should be sliding back into the position I left.
Thus ends the fabulous year abroad adventure.

Fuengirola House Tour

I've hung up all my Justin Bieber posters and everything's sunny.

And the adventure continues...

One of the biggest things that was drilled into our heads in RYE training weekends last year was the idea of being flexible. In fact, tell any past or present Rotary exchange student to be flexible and they'll either cringe or chuckle a little bit. During the last 5 months I've taken this mantra to heart and tried my hardest to go along with whatever my surroundings offered up to me. It proved to be a bit challenging when I found that I wasn't exactly fitting in with said surroundings. I felt more like I was being shaped and molded specifically instead of guided through my exchange. But I accepted it as part of the challenge and worked my hardest to try and have a good time, or at least a good experience.
This week, though, something cracked. It wasn't me. It wasn't my host family. It wasn't school. It wasn't Rotary. It was just my entire exchange. To be honest, everything moved so quickly I couldn't even begin to explain what exactly what happened. Four days ago it was just another day. I had no idea that today I'd be packing up my entire life to relocate and restart my exchange on an 18 hour notice.
My tutor decided it would be a good idea for me to move, and I agree. This means going to a different city. This means a new beginning completely. I'll be at a new school. I'll be in a new house. I'm going to have to find new friends and a new ballet class. Some would take this as a shock, an obstacle, a reason to give up. And while I am freaking out a little bit, I'm staying calm by reminding myself to just be flexible. This is not a problem. This is a continuation of the adventure. I'm so excited to try my hand at an exchange in a different city in a different situation.