finding a way

On Tuesday, September 21^st I embarked on what may be the most exciting experience of my life, living alone in Barcelona. After 23+ hours of travel, including a missed connection and a screaming baby on my red eye, I arrived in the Barcelona airport. Standing there in front of the conveyor belt, waiting for my luggage to appear, it hit me like a sack of rocks that I was very alone in a very different place. My heart began to race. Was this a mistake? Maybe I should have chosen to live in the other side of the United States instead of the other side of the world. I sat there in front of the conveyor belt until all baggage had been claimed and the belt shut off. Although I felt super disgusting and in need of a change of clothes, it was really a blessing that my two enormous, oversized suitcases didn’t arrive; there were no lockers to store them and I still had to look for a place to live, or to sleep at the very least. I called the man that’s in charge of me at the school because I received an email from him while I was waiting for my connection in Denmark, telling me that he would be meeting me at the airport. There must have been a miscommunication because he wasn’t at the airport waiting for me and he sounded surprised at my arrival, which I had informed him of 3 weeks prior. I felt disappointed and sad, but there was no time and absolutely no evolutionary significance in crying about it. After filing paperwork for my missing suitcases, I made my way to the end of the airport and boarded a train for Passeig de Gracia, the neighborhood in which I had apartments to look at. Once there I bought a cell phone and walked around, looking for the addresses I had written down. Barcelona seemed so big, not because of the large buildings and wide streets that hosted a sea of people, but because I felt so vulnerable and out of place.

The apartments that I looked at weren’t available until the end of the month, so I redirected my attention to looking for a hostel or pension for the night. I walked around the city for 3 hours and every place I came upon was full. You see, the coming weekend marked a huge annual celebration in Barcelona called La Mercé, and as a result there were visitors from everywhere. I finally gave up and got on a bus hoping that I would rest and come across a vacant hostel. Eugenio, the man from the school, called me and asked, “Are you okay?” Those three little words stirred a commotion of emotions and I started to cry. “I’ll call you a little later,” I explained before hanging up the phone; I didn’t want him to know that I was upset. Unintentionally, I fell asleep on the bus and when I awoke I was startled to find myself in a bus that was parked on top of a hill, with the engine off. The driver was sitting in a passenger seat, filling out paperwork and I couldn’t tell how long things had been this way. I’m not sure who was more scared, the driver or myself, because he practically shouted, “what are you doing here!” when I stirred. Out of embarrassment I lied and explained that I had missed my stop and was now lost and waiting for the bus to turn around. Fifteen minutes later, we were on our way back to Barcelona.

After another hour of hunting I found a hostel, showered, and slept. Four hours later I awoke and much to my chagrin it was only 10:30pm. I needed people – I needed to talk to people and laugh and experience a social interaction that had been missing from my daily routine for the past 40 hours. Seeing as I was either going to die in that small, dingy cell of a hostel room or go crazy, I called Eugenio and asked him to let me come with him to Barbera del Valles, the city in which I’m teaching. He and 2 other teachers had been in the city for a show and graciously waited for me in the metro station Sant Martí. It took me almost an hour and a half to take the metro (the subway system) a distance that I now take in no more than 15 minutes.

There in Sant Martí I met Eugenio, Montse and Manuela, all teachers at la Escola Elisa Badía, and their friend Sol. Immediately I had forgotten how rough my start in Barcelona had been and was thankful that Manuela was offering me a room to rent for the week. Like a tour guide, Manuela showed me her beautiful apartment and gave me directions for everything and offered me food. It had been probably 24 hours since I had last eaten but food was my last priority… in that moment I would have hijacked a fitness center for a shower. Fortunately I didn’t have to take such strong measures.

The next day I went to the school with Manuela and met about 350 students and an array of teachers who welcomed me so enthusiastically. One of the sixth grade classes sang to me an array of English songs, accompanied by their teacher who played the Ukulele and I went to all of Eugenio’s classes and enjoyed helping and observing the classroom. Despite the past 2 days I was really glad to be in Spain again. I love the school, the kids are amazing and all of teachers are friendly.

A week has past since my rough landing in Barcelona and to be honest, I’m really glad that it happened that way. It makes being here so much sweeter, so much more of an accomplishment – and it makes for a really good story. Jane Goodall once said, “If you really want something you will find a way.” I must really want this.

loose ends

The day after my last blog I received my visa, passport, and work documents from the Spanish Consulate in San Francisco. I am officially moving to Spain! Woohoo!

At the moment, I’m sitting here staring at two empty suitcases that I’m supposed to fill with my belongings. I would really like to light a match and burn everything so that I’m not left with this decision. Ironically, I spoke with my mom today who called me out on my commitment phobic behaviors. “How’s finding a place in Barcelona?” she asked. When I explained that I had about 6 apartments from which I will choose 1 apartment in the next week, she replied “well, you never could commit to anything… why start now?” hahahahahahaha. In my defense, looking for a place to live has proved to be very difficult and discouraging. One place is too far from the city center, another has 5 other flat mates and one bathroom, yet another is in a dangerous neighborhood, or the owner is creepy and keeps calling me “to be friends” even if I’m not his tenant… the list goes on and on. I have so many loose ends to tie up.

Back to these suitcases, I think I’ll start tomorrow.

construction paper chain links

The first thing I do when I come home from work each night is to check my tracking number on the express envelope with my visa/passport to see if it’s been submitted to the United States Postal Service. This has been my routine for the past 3 weeks and it’s surprisingly still excitement inducing. I hold my breath as I turn on my laptop, and look away as I type the last two digits to the tracking number, then press enter. Anxiously I reroute my eyes to the computer screen, in hopes that it will display my tracking number and its respective delivery status. Upon reading the words “There is no record of this item,” I collapse disappointedly into my chair. Maybe tomorrow. For the first time in I don’t know how long, I feel this childlike hope that something better is coming. The kind of hope where one makes a construction paper chain link that marks the number of days until a big holiday, taking one link off day by day. 27 more days until that plane takes off with or without me, my visa had better arrive by then.

Sick with the Travel Bug

I spent the last week with one of my best friends, helping her move to SLC, then flew home on Saturday morning. Upon arrival at baggage claim it took what seemed like an eternity for my flight's luggage to start appearing. After four bags dropped onto the carousel, the carousel stopped because a big bag got caught at the end of the conveyor belt. After 10 minutes of waiting for help to arrive I got a little crazy and jumped up and across the carousel, onto the top part where the conveyor belt / ramp are, and began freeing the bags. Like 90 people started cheering and clapping, meanwhile a security guard began to yell at me about the dangers of falling... "well somebody had to do something," the lady holding my purse retorted. It was hilarious, but a reminder that I can't being doing this stuff in foreign countries where I can actually get into trouble ;) Speaking of foreign countries, I BOUGHT MY PLANE TICKET TO BCN LAST NIGHT!!!!

That flight on Saturday gave me the travel bug, and now all I can think about is traveling. Thoughts of airplane smell, the run between gates to make a connection, and the satisfaction felt upon arrival flood my wandering mind... it's so hard to focus right now. I don't think there's a cure in my immediate future that can satiate my desire to be free, abroad, and have new eyes.

This is the itinerary:

Tue, Sep 21, 2010 Depart: 07:29 am Arrive: 03:30 pm Seattle/Tacoma, WA (SEA) Washington, DC (IAD) Travel time: 5 hrs 1 min 1 Stop - change planes in Washington, DC (IAD) Connection Time: 1 hr 45 mins

Depart: 05:15 pm Arrive: 07:15 am Washington, DC (IAD) Copenhagen, Denmark (CPH) Travel time: 8 hrs 1 Stop - change planes in Copenhagen, Denmark (CPH) Connection Time: 50 mins

Depart: 08:05 am Arrive: 11:10 am Next day Arrival Copenhagen, Denmark (CPH) Barcelona, Spain (BCN) Travel time: 3 hrs 5 mins I am feeling euphoric, but will probably be a little on edge until I receive that visa/passport in the mail. I also gave my notice at work, which went really well and I am at peace with this decision. Now I just need to secure a place to live, which will be easier to do after September 1st. I assume this will be the primary cause for anxiety during this journey as it's difficult to find a place to live from the other side of the world. I am so fortunate to have a friend from Barcelona, Javi, who has given me detailed direction about which neighborhoods are safe, which neighborhoods I would like, and which neighborhoods are convenient. This gave me so much peace of mind.

Thoughts of Goodbye

This was something written August 4th, 2010.

I wish it wasn’t so difficult to get papers to live in another country. I feel as though I’ve spent every free moment getting medical clearance, police clearance, legalized documents and apostilles of The Hague, copies of copies, and so on. Three weeks ago, I spent a whole day in middle of nowhere Olympia for a notarized letter stating one sentence, “There is no conviction criminal history record information in the Washington State Patrol Identification and Criminal History Section files on Nicole E. Veldwyk.” And thanks to rush hour traffic, I now know where the Nisqually Valley is… Thank God, because I was really starting to wonder ;)

On a more thoughtful note, I am somewhat reluctant to put in my notice at work. The kids I work with trust me and confide in me; I get to be a static entity in their lives, encouraging them as they thirst for positive attention that has been scarce for them. I am protective of these kids, proud of these kids, and unfortunately, sometimes scared of these kids. Helping them engage in healthy, prosocial behaviors is challenging, but I have been so honored and humbled by this experience. Little things that we so easily overlook, such as birthday cakes, doctors appointments, homework help, and soccer scrimmages – I get to do. I am an adult in their lives who sees their faults, their history, and shortcomings – and they are accepted by me. I have never before seen so much hurt, anger, deprivation, resentment, anxiety, depression, and pure pain as I have witnessed in my clients. Never before have I felt such pride over good grades, winning soccer goals, volunteer work, acquired independent living skills, and improvement in treatment as I do in my kids. This is an experience that I am both thrilled and heavy hearted to move on from. It’s time.

June 17th, I received the notification and paperwork stating that I will be teaching in the city of Barbera del Valles, a city that's about 10.5 miles from the center of Barcelona [, the city]. I am ecstatic and I will definitely be taking this job. Everyone in my life is pretty much on board with this decision except for a few family members who fear that I may end up in a compromised position because of Spain's financial situation.

I understand the risks of picking up and moving to a country which is on the verge of bankruptcy. I also understand that I'm never going to be in this position again - no strings, only having myself to take care of - so it would be foolish to pass up this opportunity. I'm young and either way, I see this as an opportunity to learn and to grow. One of my favorite quotes, by Gustave Flaubert, says this, "Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world". I need to travel so that I can become a more humble person. I need to travel so that I can be better at loving people and identifying with people. I need to travel so that I can find my purpose in this life and share it with others. I am content, don't get me wrong. I will always be in this state of contentment, no matter the weather. Experience is what I crave, however, and this is what I want.

I called a friend in Barcelona and he's already sending me links to look for apartments and shared housing; we've calculated that I can live in the city and take a 20 minute bus/train to work. Now it's time to budget. I'm considering a second job until September since I will only be accruing 700 euros / month.

Take a look at the school in which I'll be working: http://www.xtec.cat/centres/a8028229/

I'm in love with these kids already.