Goodbye

This thing here has no other proper name name than Adventure. 

I fought battles and I won them.

Now, I sit here in Michigan, just like last winter around this time. 

But I assure you, I'm a different person. 

I still find myself getting caught up in a memory. I'll be walking through the halls at Bedford and I'll smile because I'm still living in the BiCafé and Paula is laughing at something David said, or I'll wince at something embarrassing that I said in class or to a group of cute boys. 

This is probably really unhealthy, but I just hate everything that brings me further away. The days and the seconds and the mean girls at school who can knock me down with just one glance are all pulling me away from my españoles. They pick me up and just tug me away just like that train and all of those planes. 

However, I have kept one thing. 

I have kept all of the changes in myself. 

I still remember all of the things that people said to me over there. 

I still remember Spanish.

I still remember how to stick up for myself when nobody is on my side.

I still remember how to ask for help.

I still remember how to trust people and just "déjalo" when they let you down.

Thank you, Porriño, for teaching me these things. 

Thanks for showing me who I am and who I can be.

Thanks for supplying me with the things I need for the next big adventure.

Believe me, there will be more.

Normal lives are sooooooo overrated.

the end.

American School

Welp...back to escuela Americana.
Mátame.
I kept thinking it wouldn't be that bad, but let's be real; life is very different without my españoles.
I'm back into normal life. I'm not that crazy Americana anymore who sticks out like a sore thumb. I don't meet five new people every day.
I'm just Morgan.

First hour was English........................
Tried to correct a sentence but got COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY CONFUSED when they tried to get you to change "no" into "know". For me, it just changed the entire meaning of the sentence and I sat there for ten minutes trying to understand what I was supposed to do until I finally remembered how those little grammar things worked.
World History....................................
Learning about Ancient Greece....after studying Ancient Greek...MR. WOOD, YOU ARE PRONOUNCING EVERYTHING TERRIBLY WRONG
Chemistry.........................................
Why am I in America? I just don't understand. I am so tired and I just miss Porriño. I miss seeing all my friends in the hallways. I miss it so much. Why is everyone speaking English and why am I here if Paula is not?
Lunch........................................................................................
I was lucky enough that my friend Hannah was controlling the sign-up sheet for the blood drive, but in reality, she won't be there tomorrow and I have zero friends in my lunch but I have scoped out a nice empty table to sit at and read my Spanish book...good.
Law and Society..............................
Why are you speaking English? Where are all the cute Spanish boys? Why are you lecturing me about alcohol and tobacco...I want to be a lawyer, not a loser.
Algebra 2........................................
I DON'T HAVE, NOR WANT, A GRAPHING CALCULATOR. Why is nobody even talking to me...? I thought they were my friends last year.....

Now I just want to sink into a pit in the sand at the bottom of the ocean and wallow there and cry a little.
I came home and changed into my dinosaurio sweatshirt and felt a little better.
As well, I must account for all of the friends in the hall who asked how Spain was.
TELL ME WHY THEY DIDN'T END UP IN MY CLASSES?!?!??!?!?!?!
I am making it a point to catch up on everyone else's lives too. This is important, because I must realize that the world didn't just stop when I was gone.
However, it feels like it has stopped now.

A true nerd writes a note in Spanish on the Spanish teacher's board after unsuccessfully trying to hunt her down twice in one day.
I am a true nerd.

Ya Está, Aparcao, Aparcadísimo.

Here I am on the 9 hour plane from Frankfurt to Chicago; we have just begun to cross the Atlantic. Throughout my travels I've been rereading my letters from my amigos.
Àlvaro met me at the train station around lunch time, and after dropping my bags off at the hotel, we went to a pizza place to eat. The pizza, however, did not look very appealing, so we both ended up with pasta.
I like this guy; he's really silly and random and easy to talk to.
However, I was faced with the task of describing my trip, my experience, my tiempo.
I don't know how to do that. I don't know how to say everything it was within a few words. In fact, I don't even know where to begin.

This is how I imagine school will be like on Monday:
"Wait, you went to Spain for four months?"
"Yep"
"That's cool, how was it?"
"Pretty good, America?"
"Fine."
And ya está, aparcado.

After lunch, Álvaro had to go back to the office, and I decided to accompany him because I didn't want to be twiddling my thumbs alone in a hotel room on my last day in Spain.
I'm really really glad I went, because Álvaro printed out a map of the city when we got to the office, circled where we were, put boxes around interesting places, and let me free into the city with the instructions "Don't lose anything and don't get raped".
Good enough for me!
I walked down the calle for a while until I came across a Starbucks.....which I simply HAD to duck into. They got my name a little wrong....Norgan instead of Morgan. Buen trabajo, Starbucks.
After that, I walked to "La Plaza del Sol" which was absolutely packed with people around a big fountain and a Christmas tree that grazed the clouds.
I talked to a few people, using my last opportunities for Spanish, and left when a weird 23 year-old Turkish guy with Spanish worse than mine was bugging me about grabbing a coffee with him.
Liiiiife.
By this time it was night, and I hardly have words for how beautiful Madrid is at night. The buildings are all sooooo old and tall and unique, and the illumination the lights of a bustling city creates a really other-wordly effect.
I'm just now grasping the significance of being able to do that; walk through an unfamiliar city in a different country with ease, ability, and comfort.
I have come a long way.

Every time I heard someone speak English, I could hardly contain myself and couldn't stop turning my head and I had to keep putting my eyes back into their sockets. I've been away from English so long that I don't actually know how to act or simply be with English speakers...I can't even speak English very smoothly anymore.
I've been reeeeeally low on sleep lately from Iria's late nights on the computer (she was up until 6am or 7am on Tuenti and Twitter banging away at that keyboard...mátame) and so I can't even function like a normal human. All I can think about is that I will not be returning to my pueblo tonight.

I went to dinner with Alvaro and my English was deteriorating quickly. I was saying weird things that didn't make sense, but somehow we still ended up laughing a lot. Hugo (remember him?) texted me saying sorry and I let Alvaro handle the rest, which turned out to be rather comical. I think I'll even miss Hugo and his "strange feelings that I must understand" says his friend Alberto.

I crashed into my gigantic bed in my big, fancy, Madrid hotel room and fell fast asleep around midnight with a promise to meet Alvaro at 3:50am. Goooood. I woke up around 2:45 to shower, and then off to the aeropuerto we were. Alvaro, bless his soul, handled everything for me. I could hardly speak because my throat was so tight and my mouth was so dry. Why did I have to leave?
I said an abrupt goodbye to him and then found my gate, where I sat with my music just crying and crying and unable to believe the current situation: My adventure is over.
We began to board and I realized I had lost my chaqueta en securidad.......I explained my case in Spanish, sprinted to retrieve it, and overcame my last big Spanish issue with surprising ease. I said goodbye to Spain and found myself all too quickly facing a goodbye to Europe as well.
That was one looooong flight.
9 hours and 20 minutes.
I slept for about a half hour in total I think......most of the time I was just shocked. Absolutely shocked. And remembering. And hating every second that the plane was carrying me away. Pure hatred.

Chicago was a crazy fiasco.
First I had to wait an hour to get through customs; it is super hard to get back into this country, geesh. Then I had to search for my guitar, which went through a wave of problems, but I eventually had it in my clutches and rechecked my suitcase; then I made my way through security and started hunting for gate B22A.
Where did I go?
Gate B2.
Good job, Morgan!
I realized that that plane was going to Houston, and then high-tailed it to the other end of the B section. As soon as I got there, the flight people informed me that my plane had changed gates to C27. Bueno.
So then I had to find C27, and by the time I got there I was absolutely drenched in sweat from that 34-pound guitar. Ew.
To top it all off, that plane was delayed like 6 hours due to maintenance. Perfecto.

I was in the coche all too soon with my dad, surrounded by snow and American things.
All too soon, all too normal, all too heartbreaking.
Who's ready for the first day of school Monday?
Not Morrgahn

A Happy Ending

How weird it feels right now to be sitting on this train without Olivia.
I still remember the first train ride; the door that opened to reveal gominolas, the first few glimpses of how beautiful the detalles of Spain are, and the first hours of a beautiful friendship.
This train is surely not the same one, but it looks like it; turquoise and white chairs with little awkward flecks of blue, yellow, and orange. It's all igual; except for the fact that my adventure is ending, not beginning.
I'm nicely squished between a young and unfriendly businessman and my gigantic maleta because I couldn't lift it over my head. Good. So good.
The cool thing is that I've ended my trip with a success that I'm seeing so very clearly right now. I had a couple problems with my seat and had to talk a lot to a few different people to figure everything out. They all thought I was Spanish.
Wasn't that the point? To live and breathe the life of a normal Spaniard?
Now I can pull of the illusion of one.

Last night I said my goodbyes at the bicafe. I gave away all of my letters and I kissed everyone goodbye one by one just like Olivia had to four long days ago.
I'm glad it was one by one, because a group thing would have been much less personal.
The first to leave were my beautiful David and my lovely Bianca. I held myself together until David gave me his last besos. What a wonderful friend he has been, I am so grateful for him.
Next, Adrián got up to leave. He wrote me the sweetest letter. In fact, he might be one of the sweetest people I know. And thanks to him, o meo galego e perfecto!
Aisa and Paula, the two Spanish girls who I have gotten to know the best, stayed with me out there in the cold for hours. I collected every last second, every last word of our never-ending conversation, every last smile and giggle. I will have them forever.
Aisa left first, around 9:45pm I think. I hated to watch her go. I despise the fact that I won't return to Greek class ever again with her by my side. I loathe that there are no more recreos for her to braid my hair. That girl, she even remembers the very first English word that I helped her with during the first week of school. Hiking.
Paula stayed with me for another half hour. How I will miss her sweet smile and her patience. She is the person here who I can speak Spanish most comfortably with and understand most easily. She wrote me a long letter and gave me something that she bought in London 9 years ago during her first time there...because we always talk about how much we want to move there and live there....oh my Paula. I don't know how I can live without this girl. She has really opened my eyes to a lot of things about this confusing world and my complicated self.
The last goodbye was to Lino, my favorite waiter. He was jealous when I was handing out my letters to everyone, so I wrote him a little excerpt thanking him for being such a handsome and nice waiter and always smiling even when he was clearly having a bad day. After paying for my last café con leche, we said chao and it was over.
All over.
And then I left.
Left. I left the bicafe. I had to leave it.
That drives a hole right through the middle of my heart.
Sara Nieto couldn't make it, which makes me sad all over again. I can't wait to see her beautiful self in the summer smiling and smoking right next to me.
So, my story has come to a complete circle. Everything has been taken care of.
Iván came to say goodbye to me in Pablo's portal before all my goodbyes had even started. He was a little awkward, but he still smiled through all of it and gave me a big bear hug.
After I said goodbye to him, I returned to the bica with la gente, apparently Pablers (this boy is golden, I tell ya) explained to Iván how my blog was way over-exaggerated and later that night, Iván ACTUALLY texted me first. Everything was explained and neatly folded into place. He told me that he is always laughing when he is with me, and that we will definitely see each other when I return.
Oh yeah, also at the Bicafe, right after the bosquedores (David and Bianca) left me with Adrián, Paula, and Aisa and I was sitting there dealing with that awful throat-on-fire experience, Juan and Orchi walked by and I called Juan's name and waved. He came up to me and gave me dos besos and then asked me 20 questions about my travel and kept talking about how he had wanted to hang out "what time is your train in the morning? What time to you have to go home tonight, maybe orchi and I will take a vuelta back around here", flattering stuff like that. Later we talked on twitter and I told him that I would come back in the summer, and he told me that he would be "enchanted" to hang with me and that I seem to him to be a muy buena chica.
I love who I am here. I love this town. I love my friends. I love that people like me and want to be my friends.
Pablers also showed up at the bicafe. I gave him my letter and he gave me a scarf from my favorite store here. Saying goodbye to him stopped my breath. It just stopped.
He told me last night that he keeps reading and rereading my letter and that it makes him emotional and he never gets emotional over people.
How did I end up affecting so many lives?....

This morning I said goodbye to Manoli and Iria.
Ouch, another stab to the heart right there. I keep picturing them carrying on with their Spanish life without me.
Two people at the kitchen table instead of three.
Manqoli won't be able to say "chicas" in the morning anymore because there will only be one chica.
Whhhhyyyyyyyyyy.
We got to the train station a whopping 40 minutes early because Manoli is efficient like that and I swear to you, she was sobbing and Iria had tears streaming down her face the whole entire time.
Of course, this didn't help my whole "being strong" thing because I kept thinking about how their tears mean they really did like me, but I managed to keep everything in my throat for the sake of them calming down to enjoy a last normal 5 minutes.
That awful burning feeling again.

Some besos and a chao and now here I am.

I hate that this is over, I'm really upset about it. However, everything ended up neatly and I can smile about all of my goodbyes. There is nothing that I can say that I regret except for not taking more pictures. I mean, 357 is pretty good, but you can never have enough pictures.
My story has come to a full and complete circle, and what a precious story it was.
Now off to meet Álvaro.....

Volando

And now we're down to 3 days.
"How did that happen so quickly" is the worst rhetorical question I am familiar with.
Everything is really flying now.
I'm sitting here with my overwhelmingly-fruity breakfast (red tea, pineapple yogurt, oranges...) and counting my plans on my fingers.

On Christmas, we did not celebrate much. The family came around for lunch, but that was all. In my family here, Christmas is not much of an event, and the little that it is pains my host mother an awful lot because her husband died about a month after and her father died sometime around her as well.
I understand, I know many people who are permanently affected by dates and coincidences. I don't think you can ever change their minds.
However, I did receive some beautiful presents from all of my friends at the BiCafe later that night!

Wednesday night, we threw a big surprise party for our Olivitia at the bar that Chicho owns under their house. I made her change into the beautiful dress that she bought at Zara, which she reluctantly and super confusedly did, and looked like a model.
She has played a big role in molding me into a stronger Spider Morgan.

I miss her a lot, that Olivia.

We went to the BiCafé for the last time on Thursday night, and one by one, all of our friends disappeared with a hug and a tearful kiss. We then sat on the steps to my apartment building at God-knows-what time and cried our eyes out. We cried for the last few breaths of Porriño and the adventure.

Manoli, Iria, and I drove Olivia and her sister Xandra home, and with a final hug and a final beso, Olivia disappeared into her house and is currently safe and sound in Philly. Iria was a hyperventilating, sobbing mess, but I surprised myself by keeping calm, because Manoli really doesn't know what to do with sad people and it stresses her out a lot. She keeps telling me how worried she is about my journey home. I try to reassure her with the fact that they are only airplanes and people fly on airplanes every day, but I think the people here are just generally close-minded about long journeys. I hear stories all the time about people who find awesome, top-notch jobs in Germany or France or something, but end up coming home because the miss their families.
WHAT?!
I don't even want to start to rant about this because frankly there are way too many thoughts buzzing in my brain these days, but how could a parent live with themselves after pressuring their children enough to give up on their dreams?
I know it happens around the whole world, I know family issues such as a dying or sick member can play into this as well, but something so little as "I'm too lonely without you"....????? What a waste of potential.
I have this desire to live more than a normal life, as most people do, I'm sure. But I also have this stubborn little fire in my stomach that won't allow me to let go of the things that are in my control.
Why give up for just a couple people when you can please them by way of negotiation?
I admit that one of my biggest stressors in life is that I try to please everyone at once, and people ALWAYS tells me how bad this is, but I don't see it as a bad thing.
And as a result, look at all the people who can count on me and depend on me.


Whew, getting a little profound and completely off-topic tonight.
I'm starting to regret putting my journal on here.
I'm so thankful for all of these pageviews that literally come in by the hundreds and hundreds from Spain, England, France, Germany, and America, but I feel like I've just made all of these people into characters of a book.
It's just Iván toying with my thoughts again.
Of course I exaggerated for the purpose of a better story.
All of the details were true, but let's be real, I don't want to marry ANYBODY.
I put my lawyer dreams before any vague daydreams of a white dress, eww ewwww.
I haven't even met anybody I wish to call "boyfriend".
I keep hoping to have the chance to explain myself, but does anybody ever get that chance?
So I have settled on forgetting it ever happened.
On to the next adventure, and I will take my memories of the golden days with Paula, Aisa, David, Adrián, Maria, Leila, Pablo, Olivia, Sara, Bianca, and my family along with me when I go.
That is 50x more important.

Sitting here in this beautiful country surrounded by the cozy mountains of Porriño and the looming prospect of seeing all of my best people, I can't help but think there is no way I can even handle this whole "coming home" thing. I have to load myself onto a train on Wednesday and watch Spain pass me by, one little river and a mountain at a time.
I'm so content with all of the situations I had to face and stand up to. I will forever be so appreciative to all of the help I received along the way.
In this very moment I am positively dumbfounded as to how I'm going to get through a foggy first week of real school and my stomach is permanently clenched into a tight little ball at the thought of Goodbye, but I'm sure there's a way.
There is always something else ahead.

P.S. I decided to put the random pictures with Paula by my rant because we are perfect examples of two gals with dreams.

La Noche Buena

Hiiii, Happy Christmas Eve!

Here they call it the "good night" and celebrate it significantly more than Christmas Day itself.
I started off my noche buena day singing villancicos....Spanish Christmas carols!
I wore my funny little headband thingy and bajared into the center of Porriño with my sister and Flor, where I was quickly absorbed into the group of people from my class: Eva, Noelia, Carmen, and three other girls I truly can't remember the name of.....sorry
Loooot's of Spanish speaking today, hip hip hooray!
I totally gave up on trying to follow along with the songs after like, the third one...but then all of a sudden I was being shoved to the front of the group and into the the microphone when that one Spanish Christmas song began....Feliz Navidad.
The pastors leading this group were overjoyed to have someone to be able to teach them how to sing the English words correctly, and thusforth, I ended up singing over and over again this one freaking song in Spanish and English for positively HOURS.
Hours, I tell you.

The two characters I probably write about the most in this story of my Spanish life were there as well; Pablers and Iván.
Are you all familiar with snapchat?
Well, thanks to Pablers, Porriño knows it as well.
Iván told me today that I never have shame, that I am never embarrassed.
Does he even know who he's talking to.......?!
I'm quite flattered that I portray myself as that here.
I decided to be shorter with him today so as not to appear obsessive or whatnot, but you know, that just wasn't very fun sooooo....no more shortness and worrying.


I hung out with Olivia for a while after lunch, and while we were sitting on steps to my apartment, Paula, Maria, and Aisa walked up to us. We were being silly and talking just like normal until Paula suddenly began crying. She sat next to me and we held hands as always and she talked about how sad she was that we are leaving.
I can't even.
I've never had so many people cry over me.
They really care, they really love me.


And then it was family party time!
My abuela, tia Rosa, Paquito, Madre, and sister were all there.
We ate salad and chicken and dessert until very late at night and opened presents. There are still presents and dining to be done tomorrow, the fiestas are not over.
But still, the looks on the faces of Manoli and Iria when they opened my presents to them were beautiful and priceless moments.
When everyone left later, Iria began to cry upon thinking of my return to America.
Tuesday.
It's another terrible Tuesday I'm not looking forward to.
My last day here.

That sinking feeling

Do you know that awful, sinking feeling that you get in the pit of your stomach sometimes?

Like when you take a test that you spent the past week preparing for and find that you just wasted tedious hours studying the wrong material?

Like the first few seconds when you find out that your best friend has jusr stabbed you right in the back?

Like when somebody tells you how disappointed they are in you?

Like when you say something about someone (not necessarily gossip, but something you'd rather the whole world didn't know just yet) and they find out?

Can you picture that feeling?



I have developed a close friendship with Pablers.
Come to think of it, we've always been strong friends.
Lately though, our conversations have gone on a little longer though about important things.
He's that person I feel comfortable in my own skin with.
In fact, the other night we spent a good two-hour long emotional-crying session.
We were sitting on the steps to our apartment building when Iván and his friends filled the sidewalk in front of us. Pablers went to talk to the gente, but Iván leaned against the wall and talked to me about the American movie they were on their way to see.
A pretty little flash of a white smile, and then he was gone.
Nothing new there.
But then when he left, good old Pablers told me something.

He let me know that Iván reads my blog.
I had a feeling that would happen.

You know that sinking feeling I was just describing?
You'd think that this would be the mother of all sinking feelings.
But it's not.
I'm feeling rather indifferent.
I'm not violently regretting any of my words.
It's sufficient to say that I'm not preoccupied.
I'm not worried.
I just don't really care.

I can't really figure out why.
Maybe because it feels so much that I'm just living in an adventurous book?
Maybe I'm okay with being a tad bit crazy for the sake of a more interesting life?

Let the story continue, for the sake of the adventure and for the blog.

Either or, the only sinking feeling I am receiving now is only when I remember that I only have 8 days remaining here.

8 days.

And I still haven't figured out what to get Pedro for Christmas.


Christmas Eve is tomorrow!
It certainly doesn't feel like it, and it is certainly one of the last things on my mind.
My sister is singing Christmas carols for all of Porriño tomorrow with her church, and everyone is going to watch.
Pablo said I should talk to Iván about my sentimientos, but I'd rather not face the situation because it doesn't seem worth the stress for just 8 days remaining.
Maybe it is.
Probably not, though.
Then, there is a big family dinner for "la noche buena" (Christmas Eve).
They celebrate Christmas Eve significantly more that Christmas itself.

I am utterly behind on sleep and exhausted, but tomorrow is an exciting day.
Chao, readers.