I had no choice but to hear you

I've been sitting at this computer, waiting for the songs on my playlist to sing me lyrics I could use as a title. They haven't been cooperating, and my time is running short (class in 20 minutes) so I settled for some classic Alanis. I'm sorry for the lack of creativity, and possibly the lack of relevance to this entry, but I feel like I need to use song lyrics as titles to journal entries (I had no choice).



Ah, it's been too long. I hate when I'm this behind on pictures, on journaling...I don't want to do a brief overview of all the things that have happened in the last month. That would include the weekend in Germany, Micah's visit, my ensuing strep throat, our trip to Lake Como (Land of George Clooney - no sightings, sadly), Jen's birthday, my trip to Dublin. I feel like the only thing I can do at this point, being so horribly off course, is to write what I'm thinking about, or variations of such, and hope that includes some of my travels and a lot of my adventures.



Well I'm back from Dublin now. We got back at about 2am on Monday morning. At the beginning of my time here, it seemed such a hassle to travel for 12 hours a day, switching between trains, buses, planes and back again. Now it seems nothing short of second nature. Take the tram to the bus stop, take the bus to the Dublin airport, fly back (surrounded by giddy 14 year old Italian kids who were just as annoying as giddy 14 year old American students as luck would have it), find a ticket for the last bus back to Florence from Pisa, take a taxi from the Florence train station back home.



I don't mind the travel. It gives me time to unwind, to think. To sit and people watch, to read (White Teeth by Zadie Smith), to listen to music. I can't imagine traveling without the comfort of my music. It's like a security blanket.



"Music first" as Michael said every time we got into his car in Germany. He said it every time we got into the car. He wouldn't even turn on the engine, put on his seat belt before choosing our theme music for the night. (Incubus, Peter Tosh, Ace of Base...that boy likes everything)



It was wonderful. Being with him. It's like nothing ever changed, like we haven't been separated by continents and oceans and 3 years. To call him my brother would hardly be an exaggeration, it may be the only word that sums up our relationship. I can't even quite say 'like a brother'. I don't love him like a brother, I love him the same as I love Eric. We went out, we made him take us out, he introduced us to his friends, to his town, to his family. It was necessary. It's shocking it never happened earlier (if you disregard the cost, obviously). How could I not have known his family? His mom, who we woke up at 6am when we called my dad, still made us a wonderful German lunch the next day. Who is learning english, but like me, prefers to listen than to speak. She was wonderful. His dad spoke absolutely no english whatsoever, but it felt right to meet him as well. Astrid was home, who I've already met, and is still just as nice as I remember her.

I find relationships so fascinating. Especially watching relationships, their similarities and differences, in a different country, with totally different standards, expectations, and social codes. I love seeing emotion transcend culture. I see it everywhere. When a dad talks about his little girl, when siblings fight, when a boy is falling for a girl. I'm continually reminded every day that you don't need language to understand each other. I sit on the bus, headphones in, blocking out the noise, and I see a guy, about my age, listening to a girl speak, and he's nervous, he likes her, and everything she says is the most important, relevant, funny, interesting thing he's ever heard, his eyes are riveted, and he doesn't talk, he's afraid to embarass himself, but completely enamoured of her. I love that.

Sometimes its hard to watch love here, and it's everywhere (it's Florence in the spring for God's sake), when Micah is so far away. I feel like the 11 days he was here flew by so quickly that I didn't have time to tie them down, to stop everything so I could breathe, finally take a deep breath, with him next to me. I feel like that now, of course. When he first got here, I was so exhilarated (despite the strep throat), that every moment was precious, every second was my last with him, and I held on to them so tightly it hurt. The second night we stayed up talking so late it was early again, letting ourselves fall in love again and again. It was just like it was in the beginning, when I didn't know what to expect, except that I would never be the same again, that it was all or nothing. I hate to think that towards the end I got used to him being here. I know I did. It just felt so natural, it always does, and it always has, to have him next to me. It was the same when we were only friends.

I'm sorry. I could go on for hours and hours and pages and pages about Micah, about his trip here, about how much I miss him every moment, every millimoment of the day, but I know how fun that is to read, and unlike my livejournal, I think people actually read this, and I should take that into (some) consideration.

I guess I spend most of my time here analyzing relationships. My own, my friendships, the interactions of other groups from my program, Italian families, friends on the street. My only reference base for any of these outside groups are my own experiences of course, and that means I spend a large part of my time here thinking about how I interact with my family, with my friends. Things I want to change, things I miss. Especially with the health of my grandfather rapidly deteriorating, I spend a lot of energy thinking about my immediate and extended family. I love them so much, and I haven't been old enough to truly experience the loss of a family member. It hurts already, even though it hasn't happened yet. So the words of my grandpa have been ringing in my ear, since we talked 2 weeks ago. I have to live it up. His attitude, ever-positive, ever-hopeful, and so contagious, has reached it's loving arms across countries and an ocean and has tagged me. I'm It, it's my turn right now, and there is no choice, I have to do everything I can here, while I'm here. We don't know what will happen tomorrow, we can't know where we'll end up, but I do know that right now I'm here, and I only have a month left (sweet jesus that scares me).

Ahh, I love when that happens. Now the title of this entry makes sense.

-Sara

The Golden Girls Go to Ibiza

This week has been/is our spring break. Ibiza, Spain was the plan, get some sun, party til the break of dawn every night, sleep all day. Basically the MTV spring break, done Europe style.

We didn't do enough research. At all. Maybe I should say we just didn't do any research, since that would seem to be more appropriate. After arriving, Jen's estimate was that 90% of the bars, restaurants and clubs were closed. That may be an overestimate. The first night we were determined to have a spring break, so we drank, and we went out to a very cheap and American dinner. I had a burger and fries and loved every bite of it. We got to Pacha - a world renowned club, with world renowned DJs...in the summer. In the summer it also costs 40 euro to get in...so there were some benefits. We got in for free.

Unfortunately, as it was Ingrid's 21st birthday, there was one 'merican spring break tradition we upheld, or she upheld, to the nth degree. and so we were kicked out.

The rest of our spring break was spent in a very different fashion. As Stef said 'we no longer get culture shock, we adapt.' So we adapted to the situation. We went grocery shopping, we made chicken tacos, we made cheesy pasta and potatoes in every form you CAN make them. We ate chocolate and chips and guacamole and queso. We ate and we made coffee every twenty minutes. We laid out for a total of 2.5 hours, and sat on our balcony that overlooked the ocean and Ibiza Town.

I daydreamt about living in a hut on the ocean, doing nothing all day but cooking, laying out, and reading and writing.

And that's exactly what we did. We finished all our books, we played sudoku until we could see it when we closed our eyes and played cards until we got blood blisters from shuffling. I loved it. It was relaxing and comfortable and completely stress free. We basked in the fact that our roommate connection was strong enough to make such a trip enjoyable, that we were becoming travellers together, and that even in the most unexpected circumstances, we were able to change our attitude to a positive one.


Until we went to the airport. It finally hit Stef, the most active of our roommates, that we'd spent four days doing nothing, after all of our grand plans, and she was pissed, understandably so. The mood change in all of us was palpable, and I started to get really depressed that after four days that I had thoroughly enjoyed, given its comradery, introspection, silence, peace, and companionship, I was now feeling like it was a waste of time. Interestingly, a little boy, no older than two and a half changed my attitude again. That's an entry for another time, since its already written in my journal, and as it was written in the moment, suits my emotions far more appropriately.


So now Jen and I are in Germany. We are sitting on Michael's couch, like nothing has changed, like we haven't been apart for the better part of 4 years. It's wonderful. We're already making plans for him to come to Camp Steve, to do his Red Cross internship in America, for us to visit Colombia if that doesn't work out, and for the three of us to visit Joe, Michael and Kelly in California. I feel completely at home here.

This may be the most active part of my spring break, in a small town in Germany, in the snow, with my FES and my best friend. And I'm absolutely, 100% alright with that.


Mm. I love you.