J-Term Diaries: Rachelle Roberts

It's been a while since my last update mainly because I've been doing so many things, from experiencing Spain to experiencing people, that I've barely had time to sleep let alone sit down and write out my thoughts (in English, anyway). Our trip has taken us to Segovia, Toledo, and Granada -- three beautiful cities with so much history that they're like a drug to a nerd like me -- and yet so far some of my favorite experiences don't come from the places themselves but rather what being here in a foreign country does to the people on the trip.

Something about being someplace foreign makes a need to connect. There are only so many things you  have with you that are safe -- and by safe, I mean smell and feel and look like home -- and some of the most important ones are your traveling companions. (Of course, this is the case for me; I can't speak for anyone else I'm about to mention.) I have grown rather close to my housemate Mayjean, who I have known or at least been acquainted with since freshman year, but it wasn't until this trip that I really got to know her on a personal level because here we are in a stranger's house trying to get adjusted and sharing things about ourselves that maybe if we weren't in this heightened environment of unfamiliar surroundings we wouldn't share; we wouldn't bother creating our own safe place to share things because we'd already be complacent with ourselves and our surroundings.

I have had so many in depth, deep discussions so far on this trip that take place very far away from the classroom but that are no less significant to the world, our place in it, and how we view and understand others. Misconceptions I've held about people I've known for over a year are being torn apart by this ability to get past the usual social niceties of home and explore other areas of ourselves and the world around us. What it comes down to is that we can't afford to stay quiet about our thoughts or our opinions; staying in a stranger's house, we have to be upfront and honest about what we want to eat, how we feel about this or that. There's no room to be quiet or shy or reserved, and as people warm up to that, more and more gets shared about our opinions on people, society, the government, other peoples' governments, the other Americans on the bus in the morning, that person's jeans, etc.

Side anecdote: If you've seen Little Miss Sunshine, then you can visualize the day when we sat down in a cafe and started pouring water, only to have someone look around and ask, "Where's Corren?"

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The past few days have been a whirlwind of cities -- from Madrid, to Segovia, and now to Toledo -- and a whirlwind of monuments, huge stone buildings, art, and total geekery. It's a little funny and slightly awkward that the only people writing blogs for this Spain trip are myself and Mayjean since we're going to be roommates with our family stay, and we were both the only ones on the trip to have taken a class on Spanish history and culture this past semester. I bring it up only because there have been about 30 billion (a rough estimate) times so far on this trip where we've grabbed each other's arm and went "Oh my God, it's the picture from the PowerPoints last semester!" In the Prado, we were pretty ridiculous, wandering around speechless and standing in front of paintings we've given reports on and taken tests on, and then we were suddenly presented with them in real life. It was pretty incredible; I was legitimately getting chills, though it could have been because it was a little chilly in there.

It's hard to pick one story to tell, but I think I'll go with the geekiest. I can remember the moment I started to fall in love with Spain. It started in the sixth grade in a poetry/coffeehouse type of meeting. A teacherIbarely knew presented on her recent trip to Spain, and I can barely remember what she said except for the painting Las Meninas by Diego Velazquez. I remember everything she told us about it, about how the artist is painting this picture as you're looking at this painting, and how the king and queen are reflected in the back and it's hard to tell if they're passing through or posing for the portrait he's painting or what. It fascinated me even then and the next year I started taking Spanish. I haven't stopped since.

Seeing the actual painting right there in front of me was indescribable because I could remember the first time I saw it; I could remember all the presentations I'd given on it the past semester in the two Spanish classes I took. And then it was right there, huge and brighter and rougher than any glossed-over picture from the Internet; its colors weren't flat but sharp and clear. It really was an incredible experience and this isn't even my favorite painting, just one of the most significant paintings I've encountered in my life. (I saw one of those later; it surprised me because I turned the corner and then there it was -- Fabulo by El Greco).

Tomorrow morning my class has one more museum to go to, then we start the five hour drive to Alicante and meet the families we'll be staying with andIcan't even begin to touch on what feelings that brings up. So far this trip has been a swirl of emotions (and ham and potatoes) and it'd be too taxing to try to examine and name this one. I think so far though I'm enjoying leaving them unnamed; it makes them all blur together at the edges and leaves one blur of experience that from a distance looks cohesive and structured, a rough snapshot of what happens through the scope of one person's experience, rather like a painting.

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First time?
No, I've been nervous lots of times.
-- Airplane!

I come from a generation of worriers. Organized worriers, too, which gives the added bonus of fretting about silly things but in a logical, methodical order. The order gives us a sense of control over everything, you see, while we are at once losing control of our ability to stop worrying about things that don’t merit the effort we put into them.

That being said, I have spent the past several weeks worrying about Spain, but in an organized way. After I made a detailed list of things I’m bringing—including itemizing the things to go inside my purse—I spent the rest of my vacation wondering whether or not I should bring my laptop. I did this because it was easier than worrying about how I’m going to handle myself in Spain because it’s easier to think about laptops getting lost.

At a moment’s notice I can give you the mental to-do list of things I still need to do before I leave for Spain because I go over it at least a couple times a day in my mind. My clothes and things are rolled up and ready to pack, but they aren’t in the suitcases yet; I need a haircut, a gift for my host family, a disposable camera or two (because worrying about my own didn’t sound like fun), new headphones; I still have some work to finish up for my boss at college; and oh yeah, I’ve managed to schedule in a pre-trip birthday party since I’m turning 21 while I’m in Spain. That’s tomorrow, and hopefully I can shut my mind off enough to enjoy it.

Amongst all this structured stress and chaos, though, there are times when I actually get to sit down and remember the reason for my worry: I’m going to Spain. I started Spanish classes in seventh grade and I haven’t gone a year without taking one since. I instantly fell in love with the language and though I didn’t intend on majoring in it in college, I wound up doing it anyway. There’s something soothing about the language, something that lulls that inner worrier to sleep, wraps it up in a soft, gentle language that rises and falls in a comforting rhythm that at times matches my own heartbeat.

Thank God I’m going to Spain. My inner worrier needs to rest after these past few weeks.

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