Day 96, Home at Last!

The last day of my European adventure, at long last!  We spent our last pounds and pence on the taxi ride, courtesy of a nice Punjabi man, and a few Cadbury chocolates to tide us over for breakfast.  Really, the entire day was one long waiting period, divided into ways of biding the time.  First, it was waiting to get to the airport, then to get through all the security protocol, then for our gate to open, then for our plane to start, then for the flight to end.  Next, it was to get through customs and make it onto our connecting flight, only to wait a few hours more for it to end and finally land in Salt Lake.  Lastly, it was waiting to arrive at my brother-in-law’s grandparents’ home to get my car, for us to get to my sister and brother-in-law’s home, and then stay awake until late MST to help adjust to being in a time zone that’s at least 7 hours earlier than I’ve been in for the past 3 months.  And, what with all the waiting I’ve done on this trip for trains, metros, and whatnot, I like to think that I’ve become more patient and laid-back while waiting…What ARE we in such a rush for?  Maybe slowing down will actually cut out some stress and extend our lives.  Even so, I am grateful that I did have movies and food and a book to help pass the time and distract me from my anxiety to get to my blessed America during my long flight home.

All the same, all the weeks of waiting and longing to come home and the last few hours of traveling to finally get to my destination were worth it, especially when the customs officer told me, “Welcome home,” and the pilot on our flight acknowledged to hard work and valor of our military personnel on flight, ending his remarks with a warm, “Welcome home and God bless!”  No, I am not yet at home in the town I grew up, nor do I have an apartment to call my own, but I am indeed at home in the sense of being back in the culture I was raised in and have taken for granted for all these years!

As we came in for a landing in the Salt Lake Valley, I looked down at the neat, orderly rows of housing of the cities below and wondered to myself whether or not they are in actuality much different than the ones of the metropolises I’ve spent the summer in.  Tout à coup, a realization struck me: Yes, they are different; the ones directly below me had yards, lawns with grass and trees, not to mention that the very layout of the Utahan neighborhoods is more linear and organized than those of Paris, Lisbon, Madrid—you name the city.  Sure, they designed their vast cities with undulating curves so as to hinder attacking catapults, but ours were designed for commerce and transportation.  It is in such simple details that one can see how drastically history has shaped the cultures on these continents separated by an ocean. I have had the taste of Europe on the one side that I for so long yearned for.  I, like my country in the eyes of the world and relative history, am young, but I am grateful to my time in Europe for pushing me to grow up a bit more and for helping me to see what a gem my life in the blessed United States has been.  No, I know that the places I saw were not third-world by far, but the very differences of simplicities such as toilets, toilet paper, and toilet handles or ways to do laundry, or what side of the road and car to drive on and in—simplicities I never really questioned because they seemed so natural—were brought to my attention and appreciated at last.

My sister and her husband feel like the beginning of their two-week long trip was long ago, and my sister has mixed feelings about being back and having to go back to work in just over a week from now.  I, however, am ecstatic to be back.  I even can use my American phone again!  I came back and received multiple texts right away from my brother, asking about where I was, how I was doing, and wondering why it’s been so long since I’ve update my blog.  I’ve got work to do, but after having had a few months of wandering, I’m ready to settle back in!  So, I just want to end this trip chapter of my life with a few thanks.

Merci, Paris, for the crêpes, waffles, pastries, and for being my first European experience.

Gracias, Spain, for fulfilling one of my life’s dreams and for giving me a view into my mom’s youth. 

Obrigada, Portugal, for reminding me of my hometown and for showing me the value of both understanding a language and being able to respond in it (rather than just understand).

Merci and gracias, my French and Spanish friends, for teaching me your languages and welcoming me in for even a brief time.

Thank you, Ben and Ashlee and Bonnie, for teaching me how to ask questions and become more independent while having fun!

Thank you, my dear SPAN 105 and 106 students and BYU and the US Government for providing me with the means to go to Europe.

Thank you, Mom and Dad and my family and friends, for your support and many prayers on my behalf.  I love you.  You are the reason I could look forward so much to coming back.

And thank you, Heavenly Father, for always being there, always hearing my prayers and those of my parents; always putting the right people in my path to teach me and help me or so I could help them; always protecting me and guiding me; sometimes showing me glimpses of what I might expect for my future; and sometimes filling me with complete peace, regardless of where I was.  I know that the ups and downs were meant to be experienced and that you have shaped me into a better person.  Thank you for blessing me with a home in the United States of America in a loving family, surrounded by loving friends and with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as a constant in my life, no matter where I go in this world. 

How did I ever deserve such incredible blessings?!?

Day 80, Unique Beauty

I just went to Córdoba!  Ashlee and I had considered it before, too, when we went to Sevilla, but we mistakenly looked at the guided group costs, leading us to believe that the Mezquita alone would cost 37 euros, so we chucked that idea, only to regret it somewhat later when Ben and his mom found out that it really costs 8 euros!  So then it was a toss up between using a train pass to go there or to break up my trip to Avignon into two days, but I ended up deciding on seeing something new.  My but was it worth the trip!

Once my train arrived and I got some information and a map, I beelined it over to the Judería, the ruinous, old part of the city enclosed in some of the old city walls.  The mezquita-turned-cathedral was my first stop, mainly because it is the one famous thing I knew of before even coming and it was a must-see.  I had seen pictures of it, of course, but all I was expecting was the unique but plain red and white arches.  Sure enough, those were the first things I saw as I stepped through the entrance, but that wasn’t even the half of it!  Indeed, the place had originally been a Visigoth church, complete with familiar Christian images (which reminded me that they were of the Christian faith in the first centuries Anno Domini), images which are now artifacts recovered and set on display within the structure.  It was after them that the Arabs invaded and took control, converting the edifice into a mosque and giving it its reputation as the largest Islamic structure in the West and the 3^rd largest in the world!  However, the conquest of the Catholics eventually led to yet another overhaul of the building, creating a cathedral smack dab in the center of the mosque.  The result of so many years of additions and renovations is a beautifully unique hodgepodge filled with ironic juxtapositions.  Now, I’ve seen a fair amount of Arabic architecture and designs from southern Spain, but I don’t cease to be amazed by the intricacies found in every inch of tiling and marble plaster that have lasted for so many centuries.  The cathedral’s more western contribution is equally elaborate, but a world of its own;  it contrasts its figures of Christ and saints combined with Roman lettering with the winding, intertwining designs and Arabic lettering, void of what would have been sacrilegious depictions of living beings.

 The inner courtyard

Visigoth artifacts

Arabic ceiling

Arabic arch

Spanish Catholic ceiling

American me with some of the mix

 Yes, all of the above pictures were from ONE building!

Leaving the ancient beauty of the Mezquita, I wandered across the ancient Roman bridge traversing the Guadalquivir, coming back just in time to have missed my chance to enter the alcázar and its adjoining gardens.  It turns out I wasn’t the only one who missed the hours, and I soon made friends with an Argentine girl who was also on her own in the city.  Together, we walked around the alcázar por si acaso we could at least get some glimpses into the gardens.  On our way, we found a poor baby golondrina (swallow) that couldn’t fly!  It was so cute and took a liking to my new friend.  What a shame that we had to leave it, probably to an uncertain death.

In the last bit of time I had left before catching my train back into Madrid, I went by a few other smaller sites.  One was the old Jewish synagogue, and it was small but intriguing to me because its structure and design was heavily influenced by the Arabs, but the words and scriptures inscribed in the wall plastering were Hebrew!  I also went to the Casa Andalusí, which has been around since the 600s AD.  Neither cost very much, and I almost didn’t end up paying for the synagogue because it was free for European Union residents and 30 cents for others and the worker told me that “no se lo nota,”—that is, he couldn’t tell that I’m a foreigner.  I took that as a compliment and paid, earning myself a souvenir ticket to go with my little collection.  :D

The rest of my time was spent walking a little and thinking while lounging a lot.  I got to thinking, too, about why people try so hard to create great empires when they have been so prone to eventual destruction.  For example, civilization after civilization had built and resided in that same spot, now only preserved as a souvenir of sorts of the past.  Then again, each civilization came to contribute something of its traditions and knowledge to help create our culture today.  Everything had a purpose.  What’s more, the most important thing is that people live to be happy and help create happiness in others’ lives.  My first thoughts had been defeatist at best, making so many lives seem a waste.  But then, why do we bother to give a few cents to a beggar, an orange to a homeless woman and her child, or care about an injured bird?  Because we are compassionate human beings and all we want in life is happiness—for ourselves, for others, and for our children.  Really, in the end, we are just like that mezquita so well known in Córdoba: an odd mix of past influences, but with a place in the world to bring, if nothing else, a bit of beauty into the life of another.

Day 79, Holy Toledo!

Just take a wild gander at where I went on July 12.  And it only cost me about 8 euros to get there and back.  I wasn’t sure if I would actually end up going with those two girls because it kept getting postponed, but then I went and slept in, waking up at the time I was supposed to meet them on the day we finally decided upon!  Thankfully, they patiently waited for me, and we made it at last.  Like Coimbra, it was hilly, but it wasn’t so bad nor was it so hot.  I don’t recall being overwhelmed by awesomeness, but at least now I have pictures (including one of me and shining armor [knight wanted]) as well as bragging rights.  I wouldn’t’ve even really thought of it, except Ashlee pointed out that now when someone says, “Holy Toledo!” I can say, “Yeah, I’ve been there.”  That and it’s a cultural hotspot near Madrid and my mom and others have recommended it.  I wouldn’t flown all the way over to Europe for it, but it was definitely worth the day trip.

Day 78, Scavenger Hunt

Things to find on a Monday morning in Madrid:

• Cheap Havaianas (flip-flops—turned out to be rip-off knock-offs, but I did end up buying a new pair of flip-flops)
• Find cheap pizza for lunch (Calvin had extra time between Pamplona and Barcelona, so we hung out for lunch)
• Get train info (for meeting Cassi and Eric)
• Take pictures (of my mom and aunts’ haunts from their time in Spain in the 70s)
• Cuzco: Site of Franco passing by Hotel Cuzco
• Ríos Rosas: Seventh Day Adventist school
• Pío XII: Former location of a friend’s home and swimming pool
• Avenida de los Parques: Home sweet home away from their USA home
• May and June 2011 Liahona magazines (for preparing and teaching YSA FHE in Spanish!)

Day 77, Changing of Plans

I decided that I can’t handle another week of being away from friends and family and just sitting around here.  So, I’m taking those nice French YSAs from last week at the temple and ravioli activity up on their suggestion: I’m going to their hometown, Avignon!  Instead of meeting up with Cassi and Eric in London on July 24, I’m meeting them in Avignon on July 19.  Big change of plans, but I feel good and excited about it.  Talking to Cassi and Mom helped me ground myself, too, because it’d been a while since I’d talked to family.

In other news, I went to church—not atypical in the least!  But this time, I ended up sitting apart from Teresa, which put me out of my comfort zone, but I ended up sitting near another YSA, who loaned me her hymnal for singing and led me to the YSA Sunday School after sacrament.  There, I met a couple of other YSAs and loved the lesson about Christ’s trial and death.  Yes, it’s a lesson I’ve had innumerable times, but this time, the teacher had us stop and think about the characteristics of Christ found in individual scriptures.  That itself was interesting, because it made me look a little deeper into the scriptures and see the differences between how the apostles, for example, handled the betrayal of Christ and how he himself handled it. The teacher then asked us how we ourselves can come to develop those characteristics so as to change and one day become like him.  One of the striking questions he asked was, “In what ways do we deny Christ and deny our faith?”

Day 76, Bookworm

Before Calvin left, he gave me a book to read to help me pass the time in the metro and in general on this trip.  More than once had I mentioned needing to find a good, easy, fun book to read—something different from the textbooks, manuscripts, scriptures, and foreign literature I’ve been reading for the past few years.  In fact, I was worried that I had lost my reading and comprehension skills because I fall asleep so easily and miss so much when I read.  I mean, I like to say that I like to read, but I haven’t really sat down to read for kicks since the summers in high school, basically.  Could I even still read?  Much to my delight, I found that I can!  Actually, I was tickled that I am still the bookworm who will read and read, even when walking, not wanting to put the book down.  I am still the girl who will read into the night, the one who made it so my parents thought it best to put a motion sensor light in my room so that the light would turn off for once!

Thanks to Ben who put me to a bit of a challenge, I went to the Retiro park after the YSA BBQ and gave out some of Ashlee’s surveys—in between lots of reading.  :)

Day 75, More Than Language

Honestly, I don’t remember much of Friday, it was that memorable!  What I do remember, though, is that I putzed around the apartment for most of the day and finally got out to attend a YSA activity.  I helped prepare probably a couple hundred Russian raviolis, some filled with mashed potatoes and some with meat.  The activity itself was intended to teach the YSA how to prepare them and then feed everyone with what we’d already made and what they finished making.  The two Russian girls in charge expected that people would mainly come to eat rather than contribute, which is logical and is the case for some, but at least I knew I’d done my part.

However, believe it or not, my favorite part of it wasn’t making or eating the food, but conversing with the people who came into the room!  You see, not only did I enjoy it because Spanish was involved, but also because two French people I met in the temple the day before came, along with a friend, and we had multilingual conversations with our limited overlaps in each others’ language skills. Here I was in a conversation with a French guy and a Portuguese-Brazilian guy, the first having experience in French and English; the second in Portuguese, Spanish, and some English; and me, in English, Spanish, and French.  Sometimes I had to translate and sometimes they understood each other okay because of language similarities.  (In fact, I had mentioned to the French guy that the language similarities and differences are what I love to see in the Romance languages, and then a conversation came up later in which he made that point to say how he could understand some Spanish, with a bit of a smirk and a knowing look at me!)  Now, the simple fact that we could communicate with English being a common is one thing, but what I love most is that I was able to use the languages I know and marvel in the fact that what ultimately brought us together was the gospel of Christ and our membership in his Church.  Just like going into the temple and seeing service being done, even though one worker is a Spanish-speaking Spaniard, another is a Portuguese-speaking Portuguese, and the other is an English-speaking American.  I love it—living a life where I can find friends anywhere because of a common bond in loving Christ.  The language part is a bonus.  ;)