Last night we had churros for dinner. It was amazing. Thick hot chocolate and sugar covered, deep fried in front of you churros. Best. Dinner. Ever. Seriously, sorry mom.
Iria told me today that she read my blog. My heart hurt. I was and am so ashamed. I refuse to delete posts because they are a file, a perminent glimpse at the feelings in that moment but I was ashamed. It is my very last wish to offend anyone, but I seem to offend a lot. I think its the ghetto in me.
My only experience at judging livestock is the dairy goat judging I did in high school as an FFA member. (We placed third at state...there were only three teams...) But its here I learned one of lifes great lessons, that apparently hasnt sunk in yet. You never ever point out a flaw in an animal, never mention a negative, you only place an animal over another for its superiority in some area. What wisdom.
And at YMCA camp, at the end of the week during the prayer walk, theres a story that tell kids to carve the good in stone, and the bad in sand. Always remember the good and the good in people, and forget the bad. What wisdom.
As we sat, Iria teaching me spanish her mom brought a geography book of Spain and Iria pointed out Galicia...and its flag. She knows what it means and I like it. The Galician flag is white for purity with a blue strip from the bottom left to the top right to symbolize the sea.
Today Carlos, Dani and I toured As Pontes on bikes. I was scared when I saw Carlos in biking shorts because this means heres serious. I´ve forgotten how fabulous bikes are. Dad always said bikes are the best way to see a place, which is why any vacation ever taken as a family had two bikes in tow. Speaking of Dad, hes looking at flights and wants to come ride El Camino de Santiago...kid hasnt seen Galicia. There are mountains and lots of them, but he tells me, 'You're strong enough to do what we want to do (no crime in walking a hill!).' This boys and girls is what we call delusional, but alas its how my family functions and to be honest its a great thing.
Back to. As Pontes is awesome and I´m ashamed I havent gotten out to see it before now. I think its funny that we stopped to look at two different dams. This is only funny because when Dad and I ride the trail to the Veledrome on friday nights in the summer, we always stop and sit at the dam. They showed me a really great park where I can run in the morning, it comes complete with a statue of Estrella Galicia, the regions beer. At the top of the dam I found the top spot, there were guys kicked the futbol around, and girls in the car blasting the euro music, chillin. Sail boat and kayaks on the water, clouds in the sky, bikes, water, music and chill. What more could you ask for? Then we raced down the mountain, shouting 'Hola's!' to the old men with canes and old women sitting on benches. I like As Pontes, theres a lot to see here, lots of little places to stick your head in and explore, and there are always old people walking around. I cant talk to them much but I like to think if I needed help, theres always someone around, they're just likely to be 80 years old. Nothing wrong with that.
Carlos and I are breaking down the communication barrier. Today he saw me sucking on honeysuckle and asked about it. ALSO! We played basketball. I'm pretty awful but I like to think its the rim. Dinner included bread and a tomato/garlic puree that was amazing. I keep telling them I'm going to make an American meal...but I´'m putting it off, 1. I´m scared I´m going to screw it up without Mom or a grandmother here to help. 2. Its so much work! Ugh, I can do noodles okay but then theres everything else, it just takes forever.
I want to make peach cobbler so while we were at the market, I tried to ask for oats...an almost failure. No one knew what hot cereal, nor oats were and I couldnt explain it, so we went to the cereal aisle, searched and found it. You drain the peaches before you put them in the cobbler right? I know how to do this, its easy and I've done it before, but that a pretty major step I cant seem to remember. But I'm pretty positive you drain them...you have to...I'm sure you have to.
Just got an email from Dad, he had told me the price of tickets and I suggested we wait until the off season for cheaper flights. His response:
Now or never?
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Monday, July 4, 2011
The General Specific- Band of Horses
Fourth of July. Spain doesnt have an independence day. Apparently they've always been independent.
I hate that patriotism in American has been taken and made to be...redneck? I am proud to be an American. Iria hates when I say I am an American because the US is only part of north America, so I should not say I am from America, she thinks I should say I am from the United States. Much thought has brought me to the conclusion that I am American. Seeing as I am from America, and if the Chileans want to say they are American, so be it.
Today I was helping Iria study her english, one of the questions I had to ask her was 'Do you know what the symbols of your flag mean?' And she didnt. She said that the flag is something we American are very proud of, but here is Spain it is not a big deal. I dont have the flag painted on my garage or printed on the rear window of my car but hearing her say this made me think of the great pride I DO have in the flag and our country. She often points out the differences, the fact that big cars are not coveted here, everyone gets all of their medical needs for free and our education system is far easier than theirs because their undergrad is 5 years and to teach, they must do a year after that and she must go to the US because it is so much easier. All of this made me feel...well blessed I guess. I know we're overweight. I know we're probs not the most educated. We wear flip flops and floral tops (this is how they spot us apparently). All you know of our entertainment are the trash movies that you call the 'American movies' like 'American Pie' and 'Hot Chick'. And the majority of us only speak one language. (QUICK NOTE: The keyboard is different and I kinda refuse to take the time to figure it out, so punctuation is less than par)
I love that we have an Independence Day. I love that we fought for it and I'm proud that we fight to help others achieve it. I know thats controversial, and it can be argued and America has taken the sides maybe where they dont belong...but maybe we've done right a few times too. And maybe people are really happy we did. And maybe there are thousands that flock to our shores every year because its a great place to be. I am proud. I know what the flag stands for, and while looking at my passport, Iria and Dani asked about the eagle. I was a little surprised they didnt know what it stood for, I thought everyone did...then I realized that maybe I didnt. 'Um, freedom I guess. It was on the endangered species list, but now it isnt. Its the bald eagle. It stands for freedom.'
Life here is good. Its a beautiful country with beautiful people whom I cannot thank enough for their kindness. At the moment the only point of life here I struggle with is the lack of religion. I like going to church every sunday. I love that prayer is said over every meal and I miss that the most.
We may appear to be an overly proud nation, but I like to think our religion, even the DIVERSITY of religious belief, the sheer faith and religious practice Americans hold dear, is what sets us apart. Yes we stand for freedom, justice, and liberty but we stand by faith.
I hate that patriotism in American has been taken and made to be...redneck? I am proud to be an American. Iria hates when I say I am an American because the US is only part of north America, so I should not say I am from America, she thinks I should say I am from the United States. Much thought has brought me to the conclusion that I am American. Seeing as I am from America, and if the Chileans want to say they are American, so be it.
Today I was helping Iria study her english, one of the questions I had to ask her was 'Do you know what the symbols of your flag mean?' And she didnt. She said that the flag is something we American are very proud of, but here is Spain it is not a big deal. I dont have the flag painted on my garage or printed on the rear window of my car but hearing her say this made me think of the great pride I DO have in the flag and our country. She often points out the differences, the fact that big cars are not coveted here, everyone gets all of their medical needs for free and our education system is far easier than theirs because their undergrad is 5 years and to teach, they must do a year after that and she must go to the US because it is so much easier. All of this made me feel...well blessed I guess. I know we're overweight. I know we're probs not the most educated. We wear flip flops and floral tops (this is how they spot us apparently). All you know of our entertainment are the trash movies that you call the 'American movies' like 'American Pie' and 'Hot Chick'. And the majority of us only speak one language. (QUICK NOTE: The keyboard is different and I kinda refuse to take the time to figure it out, so punctuation is less than par)
I love that we have an Independence Day. I love that we fought for it and I'm proud that we fight to help others achieve it. I know thats controversial, and it can be argued and America has taken the sides maybe where they dont belong...but maybe we've done right a few times too. And maybe people are really happy we did. And maybe there are thousands that flock to our shores every year because its a great place to be. I am proud. I know what the flag stands for, and while looking at my passport, Iria and Dani asked about the eagle. I was a little surprised they didnt know what it stood for, I thought everyone did...then I realized that maybe I didnt. 'Um, freedom I guess. It was on the endangered species list, but now it isnt. Its the bald eagle. It stands for freedom.'
Life here is good. Its a beautiful country with beautiful people whom I cannot thank enough for their kindness. At the moment the only point of life here I struggle with is the lack of religion. I like going to church every sunday. I love that prayer is said over every meal and I miss that the most.
We may appear to be an overly proud nation, but I like to think our religion, even the DIVERSITY of religious belief, the sheer faith and religious practice Americans hold dear, is what sets us apart. Yes we stand for freedom, justice, and liberty but we stand by faith.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Cat in the Boiler
Not sure how to wrap up the last few days, I should have blogged better. I got into Spain and into Santiago just fine. During the 30 hours that was the trip, there is a lot of time to worry and think of the what ifs. What if I dont get in? What if they ask about the UK stamp in my passport, the one with the giant X through it? What if I get in but the ryanair flight I bought is only for Europeans OR the boarding pass I had Ania print me in Poland doesnt work because ITS IN POLISH? And if all of these work out, what if Iria isnt at the airport to pick me up? What do I do then?
Needless to say, I got in, got the ryanair flight and Iria was at the airport. I live in As Pontes, its a small town almost near A Coruna. We eat fish twice a day. I dont eat fish but have always said that I would eat what was put in front of me when a guest in someones house, and so I have. I am not picky, I´ll eat just about anything...or so I thought.
July in Spain is chalk full of festivals. San Juan is very cool, giant bonfires that burn all night long. Smaller fires are built for people to jump over, to cleanse people of evil spirits. San Juan is on June 25 (I think) the shortest night of the year. Beaches are full of people and their fires and you can always hear bagpipes(gaita). The next night was another festival for some catholic saint. We drove to Carlos´ brothers house, a dairy farm. It was amazing, the houses are all 100 plus years old, made of stone with slate roofs. Its incredible how similar their family is to mine in different ways but maybe everyone has that Uncle, the one that pokes and tickles, the trickster, the jokester. Everyone has the aunts who cook and dote on kids, and the grandmother with the plate of desserts who sends you home with Kinder Bueno bars. (score! these are my favorite candy bars, discovered in Ireland and not available in US) At the dinner table I dont know what is being said, but I laugh when others laugh, nod and look at speakers as if I totally understand. Anything said to me recieves the 'Si' response because thats all I can offer.
Carlos tells Cruz the story of how he asked me 'Would you like coffee?'
Everything said among family is spoken in the regional language of Galician, its a mix of Portugese and Spanish and I cannot understand.
I love that alcohol is always present but rarely drank. Carlos always drinks nonalcoholic beer and although white wine was on the table, everyone opted for water or Fanta. The only time I saw people drink was a little before lunch, and after dinner the my age kids drank before we went dancing at the fiesta. By the way, the boys know how to dance. Tengo and salsa kinda dance. Cruz, Iria and Dani's mother says all country boys know how to dance because its the only way to hang out with girls. And in the country there are many little festivals and fiestas and the boys have to know how to dance, at least the pasodoble, the regional two step. Carlos is a 50 year old country boy, always dancing.
With the help of Iria, I talked tractors with the cousins which was fun. They prefer John Deere, but I saw the neighbors bailing with Massey Ferg and I about spazzed. I´ve asked if I could come live and work on the dairy and they said they´d be happy to have me, so maybe this is where I´m bound after graduation. Must learn spanish. I´m learning a lot already, I´d love to be fluent. Iria and Dani often ask the difference between tough words like bitch and beach, shit and sheet, beer, bear and bird. Yesterday Iria asked me the difference in ´me too´ and ´so do I´ that was a tough one I had to think about.
Dani is 15 and loves to quote the Simpsons. He has taken to the phrase SHUT UP, after I corrected his ´SHUT UP YOUR MOUTH´. Sure wish I didnt teach him that because now he says it, and when I told him it was mean he says, ¨`Its a yoke! I am a yoker!¨`
Needless to say, I got in, got the ryanair flight and Iria was at the airport. I live in As Pontes, its a small town almost near A Coruna. We eat fish twice a day. I dont eat fish but have always said that I would eat what was put in front of me when a guest in someones house, and so I have. I am not picky, I´ll eat just about anything...or so I thought.
July in Spain is chalk full of festivals. San Juan is very cool, giant bonfires that burn all night long. Smaller fires are built for people to jump over, to cleanse people of evil spirits. San Juan is on June 25 (I think) the shortest night of the year. Beaches are full of people and their fires and you can always hear bagpipes(gaita). The next night was another festival for some catholic saint. We drove to Carlos´ brothers house, a dairy farm. It was amazing, the houses are all 100 plus years old, made of stone with slate roofs. Its incredible how similar their family is to mine in different ways but maybe everyone has that Uncle, the one that pokes and tickles, the trickster, the jokester. Everyone has the aunts who cook and dote on kids, and the grandmother with the plate of desserts who sends you home with Kinder Bueno bars. (score! these are my favorite candy bars, discovered in Ireland and not available in US) At the dinner table I dont know what is being said, but I laugh when others laugh, nod and look at speakers as if I totally understand. Anything said to me recieves the 'Si' response because thats all I can offer.
Carlos tells Cruz the story of how he asked me 'Would you like coffee?'
Everything said among family is spoken in the regional language of Galician, its a mix of Portugese and Spanish and I cannot understand.
I love that alcohol is always present but rarely drank. Carlos always drinks nonalcoholic beer and although white wine was on the table, everyone opted for water or Fanta. The only time I saw people drink was a little before lunch, and after dinner the my age kids drank before we went dancing at the fiesta. By the way, the boys know how to dance. Tengo and salsa kinda dance. Cruz, Iria and Dani's mother says all country boys know how to dance because its the only way to hang out with girls. And in the country there are many little festivals and fiestas and the boys have to know how to dance, at least the pasodoble, the regional two step. Carlos is a 50 year old country boy, always dancing.
With the help of Iria, I talked tractors with the cousins which was fun. They prefer John Deere, but I saw the neighbors bailing with Massey Ferg and I about spazzed. I´ve asked if I could come live and work on the dairy and they said they´d be happy to have me, so maybe this is where I´m bound after graduation. Must learn spanish. I´m learning a lot already, I´d love to be fluent. Iria and Dani often ask the difference between tough words like bitch and beach, shit and sheet, beer, bear and bird. Yesterday Iria asked me the difference in ´me too´ and ´so do I´ that was a tough one I had to think about.
Dani is 15 and loves to quote the Simpsons. He has taken to the phrase SHUT UP, after I corrected his ´SHUT UP YOUR MOUTH´. Sure wish I didnt teach him that because now he says it, and when I told him it was mean he says, ¨`Its a yoke! I am a yoker!¨`
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Cant Go Back Now--The Weepies
The Weepies say "You cant go back now." I've always thought that phrase to simply be opinion. Theres always a way and I was going to find it no matter what it took...until tonight.
I walked home from the west tonight reminded of past memories that I cherish very much. I sat on the play place with three new friends talking of things that mattered the most to us. Very similar opinions and feelings were shared mostly about boys and how God fits into relationships with them. I looked to see Hazels old apartment. Here I had the choice, I could choose to delve into memories of her, the boys and Ireland, the night she, Jim and I sat in that very place and ate DQ. Or I could accept that that memory did in fact happen and that was life. Period. Moving on. No feelings attached, no heartache, no missing things, people or places. Knowing, acknowledging and realizing that I was on the play place, eating DQ with great friends in the present.
I walked by the boys appt. and had no feeling toward it. It was empty. They werent there.
I've met some really really great people here and I've made incredible memories, but thats all they are. Memories. Theres no sense in attempting to do it again. Theres no sense in trying so hard for something when God is begging you to listen and chill and take His way, the easy way, the one paved and set for you if you'd just stupid choose to trust it. But no. I want what I want and He can get on board if He likes...well thats been the previous attitude hasnt it?
Its difficult to let go of something so...desired. Especially when you have the power to make it happen. But it has to be done. The semester there was great. The semester with the boys was great...but its past, so lets dive into something more shall we?
Its easy to create your own way. There are so many routes in this life, and we are given the freedom and the most of us, the resources to make our dreams come true. So where does God come into that? When does His opinion get heard? Usually when you get deported and people say "Oh that wasnt meant to be."
Tonight one of the girls saw Jonah on my bible cover and said "Did you feel like Jonah when you were being held in the UK? Like they just spit you out?" Interesting. She went on to say that maybe I was told to go to Nineveh and went running the other way. And that great things can be done in our mishaps because that whole boat that Jonah was on got saved. Who knows what good would have been done if he went strait to Nineveh the first time, but the point being that our mishaps arent complete failures and they can be used.
I told how I was going on into Spain later in the month and didnt feel as though God were in that either, and it was another decision I'd made without Him...and He maybe even made me feel as though I shouldnt go but I really wanted to so I ignored it. And Lucy says "Do you feel like you're back here for a reason? Maybe you're supposed to be here." And I told her how difficult it was for me to tell now what was God and what was my own fear of being brought home again. "Well, if you're supposed to be here, by fish or by boat! You'll be here!" Beautiful. Just beautiful.
I can sit all day long and dream of what could have been and what I wanted to be...but what is the point when I am here now? There are people here. There is God here and he moved tonight. Its easy to forget that God, and friends with whom I can speak of spiritual things with are what I missed most when I was in IE.
I sat tonight in comfort with these girls knowing that we were on a level not everyone chooses to be on. A path quite narrow and I was blessed to have been in their acquaintance.
I want to say that its taken tonight to be able to say that I wouldnt go back if I could...but I think I still would. I'm happy to be here, that is true and I pray that someday I'm led back there but theres a peace in accepting that you cant go back now...and thats just fine.
I walked home from the west tonight reminded of past memories that I cherish very much. I sat on the play place with three new friends talking of things that mattered the most to us. Very similar opinions and feelings were shared mostly about boys and how God fits into relationships with them. I looked to see Hazels old apartment. Here I had the choice, I could choose to delve into memories of her, the boys and Ireland, the night she, Jim and I sat in that very place and ate DQ. Or I could accept that that memory did in fact happen and that was life. Period. Moving on. No feelings attached, no heartache, no missing things, people or places. Knowing, acknowledging and realizing that I was on the play place, eating DQ with great friends in the present.
I walked by the boys appt. and had no feeling toward it. It was empty. They werent there.
I've met some really really great people here and I've made incredible memories, but thats all they are. Memories. Theres no sense in attempting to do it again. Theres no sense in trying so hard for something when God is begging you to listen and chill and take His way, the easy way, the one paved and set for you if you'd just stupid choose to trust it. But no. I want what I want and He can get on board if He likes...well thats been the previous attitude hasnt it?
Its difficult to let go of something so...desired. Especially when you have the power to make it happen. But it has to be done. The semester there was great. The semester with the boys was great...but its past, so lets dive into something more shall we?
Its easy to create your own way. There are so many routes in this life, and we are given the freedom and the most of us, the resources to make our dreams come true. So where does God come into that? When does His opinion get heard? Usually when you get deported and people say "Oh that wasnt meant to be."
Tonight one of the girls saw Jonah on my bible cover and said "Did you feel like Jonah when you were being held in the UK? Like they just spit you out?" Interesting. She went on to say that maybe I was told to go to Nineveh and went running the other way. And that great things can be done in our mishaps because that whole boat that Jonah was on got saved. Who knows what good would have been done if he went strait to Nineveh the first time, but the point being that our mishaps arent complete failures and they can be used.
I told how I was going on into Spain later in the month and didnt feel as though God were in that either, and it was another decision I'd made without Him...and He maybe even made me feel as though I shouldnt go but I really wanted to so I ignored it. And Lucy says "Do you feel like you're back here for a reason? Maybe you're supposed to be here." And I told her how difficult it was for me to tell now what was God and what was my own fear of being brought home again. "Well, if you're supposed to be here, by fish or by boat! You'll be here!" Beautiful. Just beautiful.
I can sit all day long and dream of what could have been and what I wanted to be...but what is the point when I am here now? There are people here. There is God here and he moved tonight. Its easy to forget that God, and friends with whom I can speak of spiritual things with are what I missed most when I was in IE.
I sat tonight in comfort with these girls knowing that we were on a level not everyone chooses to be on. A path quite narrow and I was blessed to have been in their acquaintance.
I want to say that its taken tonight to be able to say that I wouldnt go back if I could...but I think I still would. I'm happy to be here, that is true and I pray that someday I'm led back there but theres a peace in accepting that you cant go back now...and thats just fine.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Brad Paisley- American Saturday
After days of constant thought, I've come to my decision: I'm not attempting Ireland. I cant part with 5oo dollars I dont have for the chance to get in.
Theres a side that says take your chance, you said you'd come so do whatever you have to get there. That side of me wants to show up unannounced, suprise all those I'm going to see. I dream of that image, I always have. That was before Tuesdays flight jumped from $344 to $502. I cant do it.
I've a good job here and the opportunity to pay all my debts and more. The opportunity to finish up a couple online classes, lesson plans for next fall and the PeaceCorp. application. I'd be here for Clara and Darrens wedding. The sisters first babyshower. Italian Fest. The Indy 500. Garrett running in nationals. Fiddlers and Bean Blossum music festivals.
As I came back to the Coop, I remembered how much I love campus in the summer. Its HOT, you can wear pants, you're forced into lovely little sun dresses that you've missed all year. They're yellow and floral and match flip flops and big sunglasses. There arent people everywhere and the streets arent lined with cars.
And even as much as I love all of these things, I swam in the pool tonight thinking of everyone of these things that I love so much but my concluded thought was this: I've experience all of these things already. They're great and I love them but I have enjoyed them already, and surely there is someother great thing out there that I will love...but I will not/have not experience it yet.
And yes its a lot of money, but what is money in life if you have no stories to tell? You've no experiences.
When on the phone with dad from London he said "Lys, its an experience," (this was a part of the whole 'learning experience' convo) but it was an experience and...I'm just having difficulty letting go.
Every single little thing in my life reminds me of Ireland. Its all I've thought of all semester. When I dumped the contents of my backpack on the floor today, theres my irish cell phone. Tonight at church I noticed the only solitary hole in my jeans, from when I accidentally stabbed myself with an exacto-knife making Jim and Paud's going away presents. I delete Irish friends status updates on my facebook wall. I've taken all Flogging Molly, Drop Kick Murpheys and Christi Moore off my iPod and I hurt everytime I see the Suburu commercial with the little hockey boys in the green jerseys and the Pogues song.
I sound like such a mope. America really is not a bad place to be, I actually love America a lot...theres just a lot to see in the world and I've seen this. I've seen it, I've loved it, I want to see something else.
Theres a side that says take your chance, you said you'd come so do whatever you have to get there. That side of me wants to show up unannounced, suprise all those I'm going to see. I dream of that image, I always have. That was before Tuesdays flight jumped from $344 to $502. I cant do it.
I've a good job here and the opportunity to pay all my debts and more. The opportunity to finish up a couple online classes, lesson plans for next fall and the PeaceCorp. application. I'd be here for Clara and Darrens wedding. The sisters first babyshower. Italian Fest. The Indy 500. Garrett running in nationals. Fiddlers and Bean Blossum music festivals.
As I came back to the Coop, I remembered how much I love campus in the summer. Its HOT, you can wear pants, you're forced into lovely little sun dresses that you've missed all year. They're yellow and floral and match flip flops and big sunglasses. There arent people everywhere and the streets arent lined with cars.
And even as much as I love all of these things, I swam in the pool tonight thinking of everyone of these things that I love so much but my concluded thought was this: I've experience all of these things already. They're great and I love them but I have enjoyed them already, and surely there is someother great thing out there that I will love...but I will not/have not experience it yet.
And yes its a lot of money, but what is money in life if you have no stories to tell? You've no experiences.
When on the phone with dad from London he said "Lys, its an experience," (this was a part of the whole 'learning experience' convo) but it was an experience and...I'm just having difficulty letting go.
Every single little thing in my life reminds me of Ireland. Its all I've thought of all semester. When I dumped the contents of my backpack on the floor today, theres my irish cell phone. Tonight at church I noticed the only solitary hole in my jeans, from when I accidentally stabbed myself with an exacto-knife making Jim and Paud's going away presents. I delete Irish friends status updates on my facebook wall. I've taken all Flogging Molly, Drop Kick Murpheys and Christi Moore off my iPod and I hurt everytime I see the Suburu commercial with the little hockey boys in the green jerseys and the Pogues song.
I sound like such a mope. America really is not a bad place to be, I actually love America a lot...theres just a lot to see in the world and I've seen this. I've seen it, I've loved it, I want to see something else.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Chevelle-The Red
Now is as good a time as any to post on recent happenings. I've neglected and I'm sorry. I've not even journaled since before finals...cant bring myself to it.
Where to begin. Well, I'm in chicago staying with friends I'm blessed to have. How did this come to be? Sounded something like this
Aditya voicemail:"Adi hi, its Alyssa listen I'm stuck in Chicago (voice breaks) Please tell me you're here Adi, call me.
Adi: "Alyssa! Whats up? Whats wrong?"
Me: (Crying) "Its all my fault and I'm so stupid!"
A: "Where are you? What happened?"
Me:"I landed in stupid London and stupid said I was working in Ireland and I didnt have a work permit and they held me for 24 hours and they questioned me and then they sent me home!"*sob*
A: "Alyssa! Its okay! You have a place to stay, you are welcome to stay as long as you need."
So I left thursday. Drama finding my flight because it was with bmi who doesnt even fly out of ORD anymore but apparently bmi means United/Continental. Whateves. I left my only jacket in the van with the only camera. Fine. 7 hours later I land in London, an hour late, missed my connector but that was fine, they were ready with my next ticket that they re-booked. Fabulous. Stopped at flight connections "What are you doing in Ireland." Note, when you go to Au Pair in Ireland (which is apparently against the law) DO NOT say you're working. You're just visiting because really, thats also what I was doing.
So I sit in a detaining facility. And then I sit some more. And no one will talk to me or tell me really whats going on. They're short staffed and everyone you ask says "I DONT KNOW! I DONT KNOW YOUR CASE!" Grand. Thanks. So there was an Indian guy who showed me where drinks and food were and I said "Listen I know you dont know my case, thats FINE! Could you just talk to me please????" And he was real cool. He got real and after I explained my situation he said "Theres 95% your going home. Sorry. Theres nothing you can do." Fab. Great. Thanks. So Ireland was going to reject me, so England could not allow me to go to Ireland because then they'd be responsible for me, and they didnt want that. So then I had to get them to let me into the UK. So I interviewed and told what I would do for 2 months (travel) and how, I had the funds, and multiple friends in the area. I was very nice to everyone and very understanding and patient (not that I had any other option). I told the complete truth during my interview and then she left to tell her boss my situation and 5 hours later she returned with a smile on her face to tell me that I was rejected. I cried hysterically in front of 2 Irani men, 1 Greek and an a young guy from Gambia who gave me a stick of gum. I couldnt stop. I couldnt breath. I couldnt believe it.
It was 10pm. I should have been hanging with Jim Power and Padraic Bacon by now. I was supposed to meet Kate MeGarry at the airport 13 hours ago, did she know where I was? How long did she wait? At midnight they picked me up and took me to the place where I slept. I'm pretty positive it was a jail. The toilet was in the shower. There was no curtain on the window, it hadnt been cleaned from the last person who was held there. I was locked in. I remember lying there crying myself to sleep thinking "eI hope mom is thinking about me, becuase I'm thinking about her." I talked to her the next day and she told me she couldnt sleep because she was so worried. The only other thought while trying to sleep was for some reason about Tyler Reynolds. Kid travels a lot and I thought, Tyler wouldnt be crying if he were here right now. He'd be sleeping. He'd know that he was safe and everything was going to be okay, he wouldnt be crying right now. So why was I crying?
I did have limited communication to home, and Kate. While on the phone with dad he said "Lys- I know this sucks, I know and I'm sorry but Lys...I'm just so happy you're not in Pakistan." Haha, always with the silver lining. But hes absolutely right and I knew it. This wasnt Bridget Jones Diary, I wasnt in Thailand. I was in LONDON, people were okay nice to me. I was given my choice of free beverages and snacks, and for a very hefty price I could call home and friends in Ireland (special thanks to Padraic Bacon who was the first called and first to attempt action). So back to Pakistan. Dad sees the entire thing as a learning experience and hes right. He assured me that we're gonna make this happen and my summer will be saved. Hes there to put up money I know he doesnt have and "it sucks Lys--but its gonna be OKAY".
At 3 in the morning I was picked up and taken back to the airport see because they had to pick me up 5 hours before my 8am flight. Makes sense I'm sure to someone somewhere and thats all that matters. I hadnt eaten anything and drank nothing but water since the flight, Indian guy kept offering but honestly I dont know who could eat during all this. That is until I sat in this last holding room the "Womens room". I knew I was goin home, there was nothing I could do, there was a tv so I sat watching Gaga videos and drinking tea and eating tesco biscuits. 3 rounds of 'em! And yes the whole thing indeed sucked....but I got tea and biscuits and I was almost happy.
So I chilled and got back on the United flight that I came in on, same staff and they remembered me. We talked on the way over and they took pity on me and talked to me throughout the return flight.
I think I want to be a stewardess. When I landed in Chi I talked for a long time to the AerLingus girls who were really great and helped me out, I talked to the boss who called immigration for me. Everyone was willing to help and I appreciate it. But Amir...Amir was with Air Italia and he gave me his number and said he wanted to help and offered to let me stay at his house that night. Also said he knew people and would see what he could do for me...a little creepy but I'm sure he meant well but alas I called Adi.
To see John Dichiara's face when those elevator doors opened!
John is Adi's roomate. Adi's parents were visiting for the weekend so they went to dinner and John and I got deepdish. To be clean. To be home. To be with great company eating great food in a great city, its pretty priceless. I sat in the pizza parlour, late on saturday night people watching and talking to John about poverty in the tropics. I felt good. I felt blessed.
I screwed up, but I was okay.
Where to begin. Well, I'm in chicago staying with friends I'm blessed to have. How did this come to be? Sounded something like this
Aditya voicemail:"Adi hi, its Alyssa listen I'm stuck in Chicago (voice breaks) Please tell me you're here Adi, call me.
Adi: "Alyssa! Whats up? Whats wrong?"
Me: (Crying) "Its all my fault and I'm so stupid!"
A: "Where are you? What happened?"
Me:"I landed in stupid London and stupid said I was working in Ireland and I didnt have a work permit and they held me for 24 hours and they questioned me and then they sent me home!"*sob*
A: "Alyssa! Its okay! You have a place to stay, you are welcome to stay as long as you need."
So I left thursday. Drama finding my flight because it was with bmi who doesnt even fly out of ORD anymore but apparently bmi means United/Continental. Whateves. I left my only jacket in the van with the only camera. Fine. 7 hours later I land in London, an hour late, missed my connector but that was fine, they were ready with my next ticket that they re-booked. Fabulous. Stopped at flight connections "What are you doing in Ireland." Note, when you go to Au Pair in Ireland (which is apparently against the law) DO NOT say you're working. You're just visiting because really, thats also what I was doing.
So I sit in a detaining facility. And then I sit some more. And no one will talk to me or tell me really whats going on. They're short staffed and everyone you ask says "I DONT KNOW! I DONT KNOW YOUR CASE!" Grand. Thanks. So there was an Indian guy who showed me where drinks and food were and I said "Listen I know you dont know my case, thats FINE! Could you just talk to me please????" And he was real cool. He got real and after I explained my situation he said "Theres 95% your going home. Sorry. Theres nothing you can do." Fab. Great. Thanks. So Ireland was going to reject me, so England could not allow me to go to Ireland because then they'd be responsible for me, and they didnt want that. So then I had to get them to let me into the UK. So I interviewed and told what I would do for 2 months (travel) and how, I had the funds, and multiple friends in the area. I was very nice to everyone and very understanding and patient (not that I had any other option). I told the complete truth during my interview and then she left to tell her boss my situation and 5 hours later she returned with a smile on her face to tell me that I was rejected. I cried hysterically in front of 2 Irani men, 1 Greek and an a young guy from Gambia who gave me a stick of gum. I couldnt stop. I couldnt breath. I couldnt believe it.
It was 10pm. I should have been hanging with Jim Power and Padraic Bacon by now. I was supposed to meet Kate MeGarry at the airport 13 hours ago, did she know where I was? How long did she wait? At midnight they picked me up and took me to the place where I slept. I'm pretty positive it was a jail. The toilet was in the shower. There was no curtain on the window, it hadnt been cleaned from the last person who was held there. I was locked in. I remember lying there crying myself to sleep thinking "eI hope mom is thinking about me, becuase I'm thinking about her." I talked to her the next day and she told me she couldnt sleep because she was so worried. The only other thought while trying to sleep was for some reason about Tyler Reynolds. Kid travels a lot and I thought, Tyler wouldnt be crying if he were here right now. He'd be sleeping. He'd know that he was safe and everything was going to be okay, he wouldnt be crying right now. So why was I crying?
I did have limited communication to home, and Kate. While on the phone with dad he said "Lys- I know this sucks, I know and I'm sorry but Lys...I'm just so happy you're not in Pakistan." Haha, always with the silver lining. But hes absolutely right and I knew it. This wasnt Bridget Jones Diary, I wasnt in Thailand. I was in LONDON, people were okay nice to me. I was given my choice of free beverages and snacks, and for a very hefty price I could call home and friends in Ireland (special thanks to Padraic Bacon who was the first called and first to attempt action). So back to Pakistan. Dad sees the entire thing as a learning experience and hes right. He assured me that we're gonna make this happen and my summer will be saved. Hes there to put up money I know he doesnt have and "it sucks Lys--but its gonna be OKAY".
At 3 in the morning I was picked up and taken back to the airport see because they had to pick me up 5 hours before my 8am flight. Makes sense I'm sure to someone somewhere and thats all that matters. I hadnt eaten anything and drank nothing but water since the flight, Indian guy kept offering but honestly I dont know who could eat during all this. That is until I sat in this last holding room the "Womens room". I knew I was goin home, there was nothing I could do, there was a tv so I sat watching Gaga videos and drinking tea and eating tesco biscuits. 3 rounds of 'em! And yes the whole thing indeed sucked....but I got tea and biscuits and I was almost happy.
So I chilled and got back on the United flight that I came in on, same staff and they remembered me. We talked on the way over and they took pity on me and talked to me throughout the return flight.
I think I want to be a stewardess. When I landed in Chi I talked for a long time to the AerLingus girls who were really great and helped me out, I talked to the boss who called immigration for me. Everyone was willing to help and I appreciate it. But Amir...Amir was with Air Italia and he gave me his number and said he wanted to help and offered to let me stay at his house that night. Also said he knew people and would see what he could do for me...a little creepy but I'm sure he meant well but alas I called Adi.
To see John Dichiara's face when those elevator doors opened!
John is Adi's roomate. Adi's parents were visiting for the weekend so they went to dinner and John and I got deepdish. To be clean. To be home. To be with great company eating great food in a great city, its pretty priceless. I sat in the pizza parlour, late on saturday night people watching and talking to John about poverty in the tropics. I felt good. I felt blessed.
I screwed up, but I was okay.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
22
Today is my birthday, the rents are coming up and bringing Anna. I cant wait to see her. I never see her, Em, or Dan but they are and forever will be my best friends. I was thinking today how amazing it is to have such friends, what makes them so? Time I guess. Love. Understanding. Truth.
Thats not what this post is about.
I know that people who go abroad cant stop talking about their experience. I know its annoying and I am sorry. But honestly, what I tell you is only half of what happened and only a fraction of what I am thinking about ALL THE TIME.
Lately I struggle. Do I go back? An issue I struggled with before I left. I am holding on to something I should let go of. It was one great semester, it came and it went and I cannot go back and do it over and yet I feel I have to try. Sometimes the ways in which I do not fit in here creep back into my mind and I dream of being in the Blackhole with Elaine and Bev. Things are just different.
Last night Sinead (the new UCD exchange) came out to Nine Irish with us. She was so terrified that they would kick her out because all she had to wear were Ugg boots. When I called she said "No seriously, all I have in converse and Uggs, do you really think I'd be let in?" I could not help but to laugh a little, half of our group were in jeans and Ts and Sinead looking fab thought she'd be kicked out. In Dublin, ye would have been. This whole idea brought to my memory the first night I went out in Dublin. Cormac came to pick me up and I wore jeans and a button up flannel and I asked "Do you think this is okay to wear?" But I didnt really ask to get an answer, haha so when he told me all the girls would be in dresses I replied "Oh I think this is fine." (What a dumpy stupid American, I'm-gonna-do-it-my-way idea!) How nieve I was! But this is a prime example of the epic-ness that is the irish ag girls. We walked into the Blackhole and with in (literally) 5 minutes, they had me in a little black dress, heels and accessories. I was thrown clothes and suggestions, hair makeup and we were gone. It didnt occur to me until last night that what they did was out of kindness sure, but it was what needed to be done because I simply would not have been let in.
And so, today I dream of going back. Showing up on Elaines doorstep to suprise her. Bringing a round at the pub with no ones previous knowledge of my being there. Suprise!! I'm back! Now lets be how we were before!! I know it wouldnt be, but if only for a night. If only for my closure.
I just want away from here. I want somewhere new that I've never seen. I want to see people. I want to be scared. That fear of being on your own, getting to new places all by yourself. Last night Sinead was telling me about Galway. I went to Galway with Dad and wasnt very impressed but she tells me its better than Dublin for night life. She tells me of a big rock they jump off of into the ocean. She says "Four year olds do it, its totally safe. I grew up doing it."
She grew up doing it. What did I grow up doing? Chasing trains. Today I chase dreams. I chase pavements. Today I am 22 and as I reflect on my life I am surrounded by blessings that are friends, family, good tea and good church. I've had a blessed life and I feel that I have so much more to do. But should I die at this age, I have led a brilliant life, and I wouldnt redo a second (maybe there are things I would take back, that feels like a different post all its own). I have been blessed with what I feel is an already fulfilled life. I know my God. I am ready to go should I be called. That is peace. That is love. That is joy.
(In the way of my dad) AAAAAAAmen.
Thats not what this post is about.
I know that people who go abroad cant stop talking about their experience. I know its annoying and I am sorry. But honestly, what I tell you is only half of what happened and only a fraction of what I am thinking about ALL THE TIME.
Lately I struggle. Do I go back? An issue I struggled with before I left. I am holding on to something I should let go of. It was one great semester, it came and it went and I cannot go back and do it over and yet I feel I have to try. Sometimes the ways in which I do not fit in here creep back into my mind and I dream of being in the Blackhole with Elaine and Bev. Things are just different.
Last night Sinead (the new UCD exchange) came out to Nine Irish with us. She was so terrified that they would kick her out because all she had to wear were Ugg boots. When I called she said "No seriously, all I have in converse and Uggs, do you really think I'd be let in?" I could not help but to laugh a little, half of our group were in jeans and Ts and Sinead looking fab thought she'd be kicked out. In Dublin, ye would have been. This whole idea brought to my memory the first night I went out in Dublin. Cormac came to pick me up and I wore jeans and a button up flannel and I asked "Do you think this is okay to wear?" But I didnt really ask to get an answer, haha so when he told me all the girls would be in dresses I replied "Oh I think this is fine." (What a dumpy stupid American, I'm-gonna-do-it-my-way idea!) How nieve I was! But this is a prime example of the epic-ness that is the irish ag girls. We walked into the Blackhole and with in (literally) 5 minutes, they had me in a little black dress, heels and accessories. I was thrown clothes and suggestions, hair makeup and we were gone. It didnt occur to me until last night that what they did was out of kindness sure, but it was what needed to be done because I simply would not have been let in.
And so, today I dream of going back. Showing up on Elaines doorstep to suprise her. Bringing a round at the pub with no ones previous knowledge of my being there. Suprise!! I'm back! Now lets be how we were before!! I know it wouldnt be, but if only for a night. If only for my closure.
I just want away from here. I want somewhere new that I've never seen. I want to see people. I want to be scared. That fear of being on your own, getting to new places all by yourself. Last night Sinead was telling me about Galway. I went to Galway with Dad and wasnt very impressed but she tells me its better than Dublin for night life. She tells me of a big rock they jump off of into the ocean. She says "Four year olds do it, its totally safe. I grew up doing it."
She grew up doing it. What did I grow up doing? Chasing trains. Today I chase dreams. I chase pavements. Today I am 22 and as I reflect on my life I am surrounded by blessings that are friends, family, good tea and good church. I've had a blessed life and I feel that I have so much more to do. But should I die at this age, I have led a brilliant life, and I wouldnt redo a second (maybe there are things I would take back, that feels like a different post all its own). I have been blessed with what I feel is an already fulfilled life. I know my God. I am ready to go should I be called. That is peace. That is love. That is joy.
(In the way of my dad) AAAAAAAmen.
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