Passionate Control

These are some selections from a shoot I did recently of one of Boston's best salsa dancing companies, Salsa Y Control. Lucky for me these talented professionals are also my teachers, I took my very first salsa lesson a few months back with Johnny and am now learning from his brother Andres and his beautiful wife Leah. They are inspiring dancers, wonderful teachers, creative artists and most importantly, they are great people. I am glad I got the opportunity to photograph them all as a group; it was a fun day.

Lovely

Here are a few selections from a wedding I photographed a few weeks back. Though every wedding seems to be, in many ways, exactly the same, each one is very much unique; with its own flavor and personality. I had a great time at this wedding of Masha and Dan. The two MIT grads seemed to be very much in love and the whole day had a very gentle and kind feel to it. It was a traditional Jewish wedding with countless classic touches that really added a cultural flair to the day. All in all it was a success, the guests were covered in smiles and the bride and groom were oozing with happiness; from start to finish it was a pleasure to capture.

lost passion

A few old photos that represent the passion found in the everyday life of Madrid. My brother once told me that my experiences abroad would become even more meaningful over time. He was right; as time goes on I am coming to realize, on a new level, just how valuable my time away really was.

Strings attached

A really great band at a recent wedding in Newport, Rhode Island.

Princess for day

A few weeks back I was asked by a friend to take some photographs for her family. So I went to Lynn where I witnessed my first christening. The service was modest, held in the basement of an average urban church. However, the musty surroundings did not due justice to the the glitzy stilettos of the mothers or the sharp suits that decorated the dads. The sermon was entirely in Spanish since the majority of the people there were from Latin American countries. The whole thing was really interesting to me (for the first of the three hour service anyway) Everything seemed so foreign despite only being 40 minutes from my hometown. When the formal part finally finished I was invited back to the home of the family where I was thrown into the middle of the small kitchen -packed with sassy Dominican woman. They each gave me a kiss and said hello without asking any questions as to who the random red headed girl was. No questions. Just like every other woman in that room I was handed a tray of raw enpanadillas. I picked apart each sticky, crescent, shaped pocket and placed it into the oil that was sizzling on the rickety stove top. Salsa, merrenge and bachata music danced through the walls of the few rooms and everyone seemed to be family. One of the little boys even asked me which cousin I was! The truth was, it didn't matter who was related by blood. If you acted like family-you were treated like family. For little Isabella not only was this her christening celebration but also her birthday. The party, also held in a small basement, was not lacking charm. Dora the Explorer was very present and the kids were all full of energy and smiles. The day was certainly not extravagant but I have to say I felt more life in that small basement in Lynn than I have in a while. Isabella's family if full of love and passion, they enjoy each moment and live in the present; and to me, there are no better qualities to have in this life.

Punto de vista

Puerto Rico

Imagine a place dripping with culture. Where salsa notes serenade the streets, neighbors take care of one another, and the weather is always sunny-around 83 degrees. A place where a lush rain forest complete with gushing waterfalls and cool springs is situated only minutes from picture perfect beaches with soft white sand. Think of a place where the ocean is so crystal clear that you can see your toes through shoulder deep water; where the population is so diverse that colors blend and everything and anything is beautiful. And imagine being able to go to this place without ever leaving the United States; no passport necessary.
This place is Puerto Rico, and I think I am in love. Going there, I was prepared for a typical, touristy, tropical spring break. I assumed I’d see an island overrun by luxurious resorts full of visor wearing, Hawaiian shirt sporting American visitors. (they were there) But what I found was so much more than your average island destination. Puerto Rico may be a US territory but it couldn't’t be further from what we think of as “American”. It is the home of a genuine Latin culture and for that Puerto Rican’s are extremely proud. It is probable that the Puerto Rico I saw was not what the everyday tourist might see. I was fortunate to stay with my good friend Deborah and her family who live in the metropolitan area of Condado, San Juan. Along with Deborah, her family, and some of her closest friends I got to see the real PR; both good and bad. I witnessed the poverty, the corruption, and the simplicity of life. But I also saw the art, felt the passion, and observed the family dynamic that exists even between friends. I was enveloped in the beauty of the landscape and was entranced by the musical influences. The island of Puerto Rico is truly magical. I cannot wait to go back.

Ladies

Headshots of two girls that will be trying out to be New England Patriots Cheerleaders. Best of luck to them!

Salsa y Control Dance Company

Bailar Salsa

Mazel Tov

Here are some images from a recent Bar Mitzvah I photographed at the top of the State Street building . The event was so elegant and it was clear that time was spent on every detail from the gourmet dishes to the perky dancers that kept the guests on the floor for hours. This party, for a thirteen year old boy, surpassed most people's wedding expectations. However, it was really nice to see that despite the rather extravagant measures taken on his special day- the Bar Mitzvah boy was humble, kind, and appreciative. The young man's warm and modest demeanor made the party a pleasure to be a part of; and it didn't hurt that we were on top of the world, overlooking all of Boston's sky line and beyond.

Hey hey

A pedestrian in front of government center spotted the paparazzi. ; )

K Street

My roommate Katie in our living room.

Miss. Thomas

A fun photo shoot with Erin. It was freezing out so we ended up just staying right in her living room, however, the light that came through her sheer white curtains made the space a great studio.

Pumpkin

I have recently been playing around with the art of photography more, in a way that I have not before. Trying to learn more about light and how it influences each image and alters the tone and mood of the photograph.

I came across this couple while walking around in Harvard Square- the two were more than willing to help out a fellow aspiring artist. I put them inside of a small white photobooth and let them do their thing. The images have character to say the least.

Bean Town

Pucker up

The bride at a wedding I recently photographed, listens intensely to the words spoken at her bilingual marriage ceremony. This Puerto Rican couple was oozing with passion. Their reception was one of the most engaging of any that I have been to; there was warm Latin music that invited the gregarious guests out onto the floor to show off their, much better than average, dance moves and everyone seemed to be having a blast. The laid back friendly atmosphere really helped to make this work day fly by!

The Curious #7

It has been a while since I have written. Call it writers block or what you may, but I think I have figured out the cure to my lack of words over the past month. I have realized that in moving half way around the world I must also change the perspective from which I view that world. Recently I have found it difficult to question and analyze what encompasses my comfort zone, my home. It is a lot easier to be inquisitive about things that are different; you notice things that are visible for the very first time. In the past, situations that provoked thought were long bus rides through exotic places, or witnessing a cultural difference that inspired a revelation. It is clear that being outside of our element forces us to think outside of the box… that in a foreign context curiosity seeps into the soul without any intention at all.

But being here in Boston, where I am comfortable and everything I see on a daily basis seems “normal” I am presented with an entire new challenge. Is there anything to analyze? Why don’t I get that bright eyed feeling on the #7 bus to downtown crossing like I did on the circular train to the Suffolk Madrid campus or on my walk to work in the Greek town of Fira? For the past few weeks I have been wondering if that enlightening feeling that I had so often while abroad will ever occur here in Boston; I miss it. It is that exciting and rewarding emotion that sparks my love of travel to begin with.

But the other day I was walking to catch the #7 bus home. And I passed a homeless man that I pass nearly every day near South Station. For some reason he always has big bulky head phones on; I would love to know what he listens to or if he listens to anything at all. He is with out fail, bundled up for a storm even if it is 75 and sunny. And for the third time I saw a business man in a full suit and tie and with briefcase in hand sit next to this vagabond and speak to him as if he were the CEO of a major company. It was fascinating to me, and seeing it triggered a million thoughts and questions and gave me that curious feeling for the first time in a long time.

As I ran my Charlie card over the sensor and sat down on the hard plastic seat of the bus to Southie, it occurred to me that my inquisitive nature had not disappeared. It is just directed in a different way and must come from a different place. Being in my own surroundings I will have to look deeper to find inspiration. I am forced to be more introspective in order to, this time around, understand my own culture rather than an alien one. Being more aware of my own world is just as important as understanding someone else’s. Boston may be my home but it leaves plenty to be curious about and I know that it has just begun to inspire countless ideas that will give me that eager feeling once again.

The Next Best Thing

Some of us are never satisfied, we find ourselves always waiting for that next thing. Those of us in this club of antsy people wish away the present in anticipation of the future. We think...I will be happy when this exam is over, or, once I move into my apartment my life will come together; but before we even reach that wishful moment we find ourselves counting down to the next big thing. Why can’t we discontented people just enjoy where we are at? Is the term “free spirit” just a euphemism for lost-and-impossible-to-please?

I think back to my time in Madrid; in May I couldn't wait to start flamenco class, once that began I couldn't wait to go to Santorini and once I was living the life of a Greek goddess I had thoughts of my New England homecoming racing through my mind. I don’t know; maybe this is normal. Maybe its part of being an adolescent and “finding ourselves.” Maybe, when we finally find our calling we wont feel so eager to start planning for the future. Is the anxious need to move on what allows us to live a rich life of diverse experiences? Or, is it a sign that we are wishing away the best years of our lives?

Now, this is not to say that I have not thoroughly enjoyed all of my incredible experiences or that I am not happy in the present; but I find it hard to know when to stop, when to sit and relax and likewise, when to keep moving and planning. When do people know it is time to settle down? I don’t think I am alone in wondering when that moment of clarity will occur to me, or if that will ever happen. Maybe I will forever be a “free spirit.”

What I do know is that I am finally here in Boston. I live close to the family that I have missed for the past twenty four months. I live in the perfect apartment with my best friend in the whole world. And I am about to celebrate my first birthday and Thanksgiving with my parents in two years.

Time will pass on its own, with out me rushing it. So at least for a little while, I am going to settle down in this city that I will forever call home; because what I have right now is more than enough to be contented with.

No more mail please!

As a child I remember always running to check the mail box. It was a fun thing since mail always represented something positive: birthday money from a family friend, or a congratulations card after some milestone event. But, I now understand why my father always told me to appreciate not getting much mail.
I have sadly found that most mail does not come in the form of flowery envelopes stuffed with party invitations, or even "thank you" cards, and certainly not Hallmarks filled with a crinkly twenty from Aunt Jeanie; it is those dreaded impersonal white envelopes, printed on with ugly typewriter font, and stuffed with bills that fill up the mail box. Those bills that used to get sent to my parents address now show up in my own personal mail box, with MY name on them. But this is all part of living independently, right? And it is the literal price to pay for living this young free life that I live.
Now, I understand that these new fiscal responsibilities inspire adjustments, changes that we all have to make, some sooner than others. These adjustments test our budgeting and make us, once again, appreciate all that our parents or guardians just ‘took care of’ for so many years. How many of us really thought about the gas or electric bills growing up? These are responsibilities that I am ready for and look forward to learning to manage (well, kind of); but I will miss those days of running excitedly to check the mail, those days when I selectively picked which envelopes to open and those days when the most important thing was a sparkly party invitation or a birthday card from Aunt Jeanie.

Southie

South Boston, better known as Southie, is a neighborhood thriving on character and pride. It is hard to walk down any street without seeing some symbol of the local’s love for the green homeland across the Atlantic. There is always a shamrock dangling on a front door, or a cloth of white orange and green pinned atop a rickety window sill of a third floor apartment. Corner stores and mom and pop shops dot the alphabetically named streets flashing names like Sullivan’s and Murphey’s.

Southie is a real community; it is tight and it is loyal. It is ever changing but the roots are planted and those original fixtures make Southie the place-to-be for new young business people and movie sets a like. There is something about the culture in South Boston that is refreshing. The people are somewhat untouched, and display a no fuss attitude with a light hearted twist; like the lady I see in the morning at Ethel and Andy’s, the corner store below my house. She comes in each day, her voice an octave lower than the day before, it seems the advancing smoking bans will never apply to her. She wears over sized dark sweats and is less than pulled together, her hair plopped on the top of her head, as she orders the coffee that seems to be what will get her through the next 3 hours. But despite her rough appearance, her clever smile and kind "how ahh ya?" are endearing, her genuine approach passively shakes you up and puts you at ease; for a moment no one has anything to prove. She converses not to gain anything, not because she wants to be liked, frankly I think she could care less, she does it from her heart with no strings attached. And each morning, as he grills a greasy egg and cheese for the detail cop on the corner, Andy sends me off with a , "sweethaaat, you have a good day now hun! " and my day begins with a fresh start.

This town with its raw beauty has become my newest and most permanent home to date. My best friend who has become my, seemingly permanent roommate (three years and counting), moved onto K Street where our names Katie and Kristie are perfectly fitting on our new little black mail box. We are becoming part of a neighborhood, in the middle of a beautifully busy city, where we are situated just a mile from the beach; what more could we ask for?! Looks like the luck of the Irish might just be with me once again.

The last night before the 1st day. . .

Do you remember the feeling that would come over you as you got under the covers the night before the first day of school? When you tried desperately to smother the millions of thoughts that bounced frantically off the walls of your mind? I do, and it may sound silly, but even at 20 and after having done this consecutively for more than a decade, I still get butterflies in anticipation of that anxiety filled night.
The mind becomes saturated with worries and predictions: will I get lost? What will I wear? Will I make new friends? Will I like my new neighborhood? Did I make a horrible decision in choosing 8am classes?! (most likely) Will I have a romance? Will I actually like my major? Will I run into of all of those kids that did a semester in Spain, those people who I got close to only to see them return to that "Boston campus" that seemed so foreign. Ah! Go to bed!
I’m not sure which thought was my last , or what time I finally fell to sleep that night before the kick off of fall 2008, but there is certainly something appealing about that restless night that happens each year as a student. There is something warm and comforting about those overwhelming nerves and limitless curiosity. I think it is those moments of discomfort that keep life exciting, those moments when you feel every nerve in your body and butterflies in your stomach; those instances when we realize we care about things and look forward to others. Once in a while we are lucky enough to feel this flood of emotion, and it is worth it even at the expense of a good night sleep.

Meow

These two images remind me of each other: rough ground, doorways, blues and whites and cats. Above is a photo taken in Morocco last year and to the right is an image I took just last week on the Greek island of Thirasia.

Night light

The owner of a small restaurant in Oia, Santorini. Michalis sings at the table of each customer and has been doing so for over 25 years. It was a great night out with my Mom.

Fira Town at night, a view of the volcano.

no regrets

I have this weird feeling in my stomach; maybe it’s the lack of sleep I have had over the past few days, or that baklava I ate after work at 4AM ( oh ya, I work at a small rock bar owned by a local family) ... more likely though, it’s just a bit of loneliness left over after having dropped Mom off at the Santorini airport early this morning.
Driving back to my ‘home’ in the rental car at sunrise I was all alone; overlooking the steep black cliffs and the sea with the windows down and the wind in my face, I climbed the windy narrow roads of my small island. I was as the movie Garden State refers to as ‘in it’ you know, when for some reason the situation and the surroundings get you in a reflective and focused mood. I started thinking about all of the small decisions that I have made over the past months. Decisions that seemed so insignificant at the time but that led to life changing moments.

Throughout my travels I meet all kinds of people that have these long tales and cool pasts, they seem to have these life portfolios that are so exciting; I always wished I had more stories to tell more experience and more life really lived; but recently when I tell my own stories to others I see them look at me the way I used to look at those other people. I feel like I am starting to develop my own pretty cool life portfolio.

The past two years have been full of enriching moments, intriguing people, breathtaking sights and awesome risks. I have been in Irish castles, ridden camels in Morocco, stood atop a Swiss mountain, danced flamenco in Seville, ate crepes in Paris, played with apes on the rock of Gibraltar, witnessed the horrors of the WWII Auschwitz camp in Poland, biked through Austria, seen art exhibits in Prague and bathed in the hot springs of Greece's volcanic islands. Each adventure has made me a better and richer person and I can say with confidence that I have no regrets.

Two Brothers

My Aussie roommate and I at work in Two Brothers Bar in Fira Town, Santorini.

Summer in Sunny Santorini

Time flies! It has been almost a month now that I have been living on the Greek island of Santorini, Greece. Once again, I have begun to create a little world for myself in a distant place that has become a temporary home. Now, I know that my recent lifestyle is not for everyone; some people would go crazy living out of suitcases and would hate not knowing what will happen next. . . but I love that about my life!
I come across lots of tourists here, particularly American, who ask me how a twenty year old girl from Boston ends up living on a Greek island ? ? My answer... why not? I guess my two years in Spain have turned me into a bit of a free spirit, altered the way my mind works; in the end I think I have learned to enjoy life, to take chances, to act on my plans rather than just talk about them, those changes in myself are ones I am so grateful for.

So, after visiting this island for one short but fabulous week during my freshman year in Spain I decided I would come back. I was here only days but I fell in love with the rare beauties of the small island: the houses built into cliffs, the beaches of red and black volcanic rock, the captivating honey colored people with piercing blue eyes and the rugged coast lines that meet the turquoise waters. I made a plan to come back, so a little over three weeks ago I came here, all alone, suitcases in hand with no plan except that I would spend my summer here on Santorini!

I walked around the capital town of Fira for about two days introducing myself to the locals and found myself a job and a roommate and a place to live. Aside from a few overwhelming moments and a couple lonely minutes everything has worked itself out and I am having the time of my life! Each day is a new adventure; last week my new found Aussie friend and I took an old fashioned sail boat to a volcano and swam in hot springs that are orange in color from sulfur deposits, and yesterday we made the trek to the secluded red sand beach that feels like a secret paradise.

Alright, time for the beach. . . life is tough!

A favorite quote of my best friend, " Go see the world you will never regret it."

Musica en vivo.

The Oxfam organization put on a live concert right in the middle of Plaza de Santa Ana, one of my favorite spots!

Cheeeese

Some goofy street performers pose for a picture.

Full Circle

It has been a hectic two weeks filled with final exams, ‘see-ya-laters’, last hurrahs and many goodbyes. Two years have come and gone, I am graduated from SUMC, yet I find myself sitting in the exact spot where it all began. I sit writing at the same desk, in the very room that I lived in two years ago when I first moved in with my senora Maria Victoria; only this time, I understand her stories and am able to appreciate her great sense of humor. Now, I am the one who translates for visitors instead of the other way around. I can tell that she recognizes changes in me from when she first found me: the nervous, naive girl with too much luggage and too few Spanish skills. When I told Victoria, over dinner one night, about the Flamenco course that I had decided to take during the month of May she insisted that I come ‘home’ and stay with her. So while nearly everyone else has gone home to their families for summer, here I am; pretty much the last one left in the city, sleeping in my old room and re-living the ‘Spain’ that I experienced during my first few months here; but this time I have a new outlook on my surroundings that have become so familiar and I am able to view it all with a more seasoned and experienced head on my shoulders.

Opera House

Breaking the surface

Do you ever find yourself looking at those closest to you and asking why you became friends with them in the first place? What attracted you to them? Or maybe it was just an arbitrary circumstance that brought you together? In adolescence I think those convenient relations are common; many times we became friends with whoever sat next to us in biology class, not necessarily because we shared some common passion or because we admired their character, but because it was easy. Now I don’t mean to sound like a negative Nancy, because sometimes those random encounters did lead to lasting relationships; and others resulted in what I like to call surface friends. (you know those people you see every day during a given period of your life who you discuss your day and the weather with) I believe that even those surface friends, like all other relationships in our lives, are very important and and can be quite valuble. But as we get a bit older and things get a bit more complicated it seems that we need people in our lives that cut a bit deeper than the surface.

Growing up I was what I would call a drifter, never really part of one clique but not a loner either. This left me, at times, feeling a bit out of place but mostly I was just grateful that I could drift from one group to another and for the range of experiences that my drifting ways allowed for. But, being an ocean away from home and a world away from my family has led to a realization that I never would have predicted, being the socially distant- free spirited, butterfly that I thought I was proud to be; I realized how important it is to have a few really close friends, a few people that you really let into your weird world, who you let see your vulnerabilities and who you can go to for advice. Maybe in this case quality trumps quantity?
My best friend recently said to me that all the successful people in the world have one thing in common; they surround themselves with good people. It is so important to be around people who make you happy, people who challenge you to better your weaknesses and who accentuate those parts of your character that you admire the most. Real friends should make you feel like a better person for knowing them and you should do the same for them.
"Fate chooses your relations, you choose your friends."- Jacques Delille

TEMPLE OF DEBOD

This temple was donated to Spain from the Republic of Egypt in 1968 and sits in the middle of a beautiful park just a few blocks from my apartment. It is a really peaceful spot and the sunsets here are like nothing I have ever seen.

My place

Some places just give you this feeling; like your at home even though your not. When you are in your place you feel like people look at you as one of their own and strangely you could visit 100 times and still get butterflies in your stomach just as the plane hits the ground. Ireland is like that for me. Now I understand for many people its just a rainy country full of pale people who drink too much beer, play funny instruments, and tend to their sheep. But to me it’s a land full of the most welcoming and charismatic people I have ever met, where the cab drivers want to know your life story and that of your mom’s best friend’s aunt, for that matter. The landscapes are blankets of soft green patchwork and looking over one of the cliffs of Ireland’s harsh coast makes you feel as though you really are at the end of the earth. My passport has more than a few big green stamps in it these days but its okay because each visit there has been full of adventures and left me with special memories. When my roommate Stacy told me a few weeks ago that she had never been, I immediately got online and searched for cheap flights to Dublin. I felt it would be selfish of me not to accompany her; I mean, someone had to do it right? : ) Anyway, we had a wonderful weekend full of brilliantly bad weather, friendly Irish cab drivers and lots of traditional irish music.
Until the next time!

Until the end of the world

Stacy walking toward the coast on the Aran Islands, Ireland.

Gravity Games

Hmmm... which one is right side up? or right side down?

: ) This is a break dancer in Retiro who I caught mid flip; the guy was pretty amazing.

Money for mud?

So it just occurred to me that it is almost mid April; Do you know what that means? It means my time here in Madrid is nearing its end. Where in the world did the time go?! In the beginning, two years seemed like forever but forever will end in just a few short weeks. Upon my recent realization of time gone past I have begun to go through all of my photos-by the hundreds. The memories rushed right back, clear as day; all of this reminiscing has made me a little sad, but more so it has inspired me to really take advantage of the little time that I have left in this city that has become my home. I have been making it a point to seek out any hidden corners of the city that have remained unseen and also to revisit all of my favorite spots just a few more times.
One of those favorite spots is Retiro park on Sunday afternoons. There is nothing like it. I think all of Madrid’s creatures crawl out from under their rocks for the day just to make for top rate people watching; and some of the approaches that they use to entertain and gain a few extra euros are really... well, strange. Some people cover themselves in mud and sit real still, while others break out into break dancing in the most awkward of places. Once in a while though, you will come across some real talent, someone that makes you stop in your tracks and take a seat on the ground. I often wonder how some of these artists could still be performing with a guitar case in front of them collecting, well -not enough- change; I have seen ten piece jazz bands, quirky magicians and calming singer songwriters strumming away under the shade of a lonely tree. This past week end I photographed a Peruvian music group who’s pan pipes and spiritual vibes attracted a massive crowd of listeners. They commanded that patch of grass like it was a stadium of thousands. They cracked jokes and were full of energy but more importantly their music set a mood. I am sure their guitar case did not leave empty.
Retiro is one of those places that is just so incredibly "European," so relaxed and romantic. Aw...I am really going to miss those Sunday afternoons at the park, and all of its creatures too!

Lolly

TOMA!

With all of Europe at my finger tips it can be all too easy to overlook everything that Madrid itself has to offer. I'm sure I could fill my entire year's calender with fun things to do and interesting events to go to without ever even leaving this city. Today I went to a Senior Masters tennis tournament that was held only a few metro stops away from my apartment at the palacio de los deportes; it was my first time at the venue and I was blown away by how beautiful, modern and accommodating the facility was. We arrived a bit early so that we could have breakfast at a local café first and then wandered over to the stadium. ( I would like to add that waking up at 8:30am on a Sunday morning is no easy task for us twenty year olds) But it was well worth it, our seats were perfect, about five rows up right in the center of the base line. First we watched the crazy antics of good old John McEnroe who never fails to put on a show and later we watched the finals between Jim Courier and Sergi Bruguera.
It was fun to watch these guys goof off a little. At one point Courier turned around to see who the obnoxious person was that was walking by the side of the court mid point only to find that it was two young girls no older than ten. With great charisma and a wonderful sense of humor he walked over, hoisted them both over onto the court and gave them each their own rackets. He and Bruguera went on to play a small game of doubles with the young Spaniards for about five minutes before they returned to their nail biting match. There really is nothing better than watching people doing what they love; it always looks so simple, so natural, effortless really. I can only hope that one day I will get to make my living out of doing something that I love doing.


Oh I almost forgot the Spaniard won the tournament of course. Hmm maybe it was fixed.... but it made all those Spanish fans happy. Bruguera beat Courier after a good fight in the third set.

Above John McEnroe celebrates his third place victory.

Stand

This is one of my favorite photos from my travels, it was taken on a trip to Morocco last year.

In the Land of the Apes

Taking it easy

Mountain tops, Monkeys and Malaga: a.k.a. my spring break

When most people think of spring break they think of a wild week of beaches and bikinis in Cancun. And though that type of vacation is certainly a week of crazy fun for the majority of college students mine was a bit different. I went down to the costa del sol where the sun is always shining,the view is always spectacular and your eyes are flooded with contrasting ocean and mountain landscapes. While there I went on a few day trips like one to Ronda where century old bridges and walls make the town one of a kind. In order to get there we had to drive over more than a few mountains where the frighteningly narrow and windy roads tightly hugged the sides of the steep rocks. Over the past two years I have seen more beautiful views than I can count but what I saw that day from the car window of those mountains literally took my breath away. Maybe it was nerves but I got this feeling in my chest like I was actually on the top of the world. Once in Ronda we ate lunch on a terrace of an old castle like building that looked over the lush green fields that seemed to flow over the end of the earth.
On another day we went to the rock of Gibraltar; if you don’t know, Gibraltar sits on the southern most tip of Spain but is actually part of the United Kingdom and the silhouette of its massive rock can be seen from a great distance. It was strange to simply walk across the border (after presenting our passports) to see signs in English, double decker buses and even those cute little red telephone booths that are typical of England. We took a tour in a minivan with a local tour guide and walked through caves and WWII tunnels that exist within rock; and when we stepped out we could look across the water to see the northern coast of Africa. Monkeys (there just called apes) roamed freely and seemed to outnumber humans living in the area; despite a little bit of fear I let one of the apes sit on my shoulder just long enough for a photo or two. Though my spring break was rather calm it was just perfect! Cultural and eye opening, relaxing and sun filled, my week on the costa del sol is one that I will always remember.

Little Women

Above is a photo my brother took during his visit to Madrid; here are my two roommates Katie and Stacy, myself, and another friend who is currently studying in Barcelona. We were in Plaza Mayor on our way to see flamenco.

Toledo

Here the cobble stone roads are so narrow that when a car comes you have to hide in a doorway to avoid getting hit. And tall medieval walls guard the ancient looking village that sits atop a hill. Toledo is the epitome of our vision of Spain and it was the first place I thought of when deciding where to bring my American friends who are visiting Madrid. Umbrella covered tables spott the plazas and paella is served almost everywhere. Groups of Spanish children run about and everyone crowds together to look up at the intricate cathedral. Traditional hand made jewelry, typical of Toledo, with black accents and gold plating are sold in the many shops that are situated along the winding pathways. My friends definitely got a nice taste of old Spain and its culture. The bus ticket from Madrid only cost us four euros each, making Toledo an extremely affordable and worth while day trip.

Beating Drum

Granada

Tranquil souls lounge in the grass, with their hippily-clad bodies oozing peace and love. The ambiance is warm and calm and aromas of leather and incense swirl through the air. It took almost two years for me to finally get there, but after much anticipation and countless great reviews I finally made the trek to the unique town known for its Moorish flair. While there, we toured the grand Alhambra and saw flamenco inside of a cave-like bar. This was my very last Suffolk sponsored trip, but Granada was certainly a special and memorable last hurrah.

Pieces of blue

My roomate Stacy in Granada.

Momma Mac

A reflection of one of our most caring staff members Ms. Amy McAllister, as she accompanies some students on a horseback riding trip.

Horseback

As much as I have grown to love city life, a day trip to rural Spain is always well needed. Last week a group of SUMC students took a bus to the outskirts of the city where we were enveloped in mountains and could hear the foreign sounds of running streams and the chirping of birds. Many students got the chance to ride horses while others hiked through the paths and took in the fresh air. The day was perfect; I remember calling my mother just to tell her how beautiful the spot was and how I wished she could see the views that I witnessed that day. Sometimes we all need a little break from the wonderful, but busy, urban lifestyle.

Good Jeans

1808

Fish Bowl

Elegantly Old

Recently, while sitting behind a café window, I peered out at the passing people as though I were looking through a fish bowl; All sorts of people swam by me; old and young, foreigners and native Spaniards alike, some with dread locks and some clad in classic suits. And while those young people with their eclectic styles and hairdos, beautiful features and most fashionable designer clothes are ever captivating, on this day it was the older generation that really got me thinking. One by one and two by two these older people, rich in years, passed by my window and I observed them to be "elegantly aged."

The ladies travel in packs arms entwined and, though they are often barely five feet tall, their heads are held high and proud with each hair in place and their makeup perfectly applied. Knee length skirts and dainty scarfs decorate their aged yet regal figures that are perched atop timeless and ladylike high heeled shoes. The men, though only out for a mid day stroll, do not hold back when it comes to dress either; top hats, and suits, ties and vests all adorn these frames as they amble down the narrow cobble stoned roads of Sol (city center).

I later began to wonder why the appearances of these older people caught my attention in the first place, why shouldn’t they look just as they do? And I thought about how that same generation looks in my own country; I realized that because such an emphasis is put on maintaining youth and avoiding age in the United States, it has become nearly impossible to age gracefully and with pride. At home our seniors, all too often, seem to take one of two paths as they get older; either they accept the role of being "old" and give up on taking pride in their appearances or they try to look twenty years younger than they are. "Older" and "attractive" are simply two adjectives that, in America, we rarely put together; however, in observing the elders in Spain those are the two very adjectives that frequently jump into my mind.

I think this senior group of Spaniards has got something figured out. They walk proudly and briskly (might I add) looking their age while maintainging class and elegance. They have not been defeated by their age but rather, they have embraced it; these tasteful men and women are making sixty, seventy and even eighty-something look pretty damn good!

Peace

Shimmer

Some Suffolk students run in from a sudden rain shower in the heart of old Seville.

Southern Flavor

Do you remember the feeling that you got each cool September on the night before the first day of school? That anxiety that could only be compared to what came over you during your most magical of Christmas eves. Those nights always left me unable to fall asleep because, despite my best efforts, I was unable to get away from my own thoughts and would end up spending hours staring at the details of my bedroom ceiling. Unfortunately, however, the number of days that we get to feel those uncomfortable butterflies in our stomachs decrease as we become older and less easily amused. However, since I have been in Spain, I find myself having those excited and sleepless nights more than ever. At Suffolk Madrid each semester brings a new group of kids and each group seems to form its own unique magic once we are thrown together in a new and exotic setting; in anticipation of each new semester I wonder; who will I meet? Where will I travel to? And what adventures will I take part in over the coming months?

Each new semester commences with a week long orientation week during which the new group of kids are to form the next era of Suffolk Madrid. While for the fall orientation we went to Asturias in the North, our most recent semester kick off took place in Sevilla. Sevilla is the prized city of Spain’s southern Andalusian region and is full of life, warmth and romance. On our week long orientation in the south of Spain we got to know each other and bonded over flamenco dancing, safari rides and walks on the southern coast of Cadiz. My four orientation weeks here at Suffolk Madrid have been some of the very best times of my life; and though it is sad to think that my week in Sevilla was my very last it sure was an unforgettable one!

Me, Myself and I

In high school we deal with lots of underlying emotions; there is that fear of not being accepted by the right group, the worry of not making the best team, and hopes of getting asked to the prom. But one fear that I found to be hugely prevalent during my high school years was that of being alone. God forbid you were ever seen walking from the gym to the cafeteria with out at least one sidekick! It was simply an unspoken rule. I remember many kids would rather have been caught dead than walk from their designated lunch table to the ice cream machine by themselves; and bathroom trips? It must be a contagious sensation, because during my four years I don’t recall having seen many girls take that frightful journey alone. I guess this happens for the same reason that you start fiddling whenever a friend gets up at a restaurant; you know, when you start playing with your cell phone, or the salt and pepper shakers or you decide that you no longer want that caesar salad you had decided on and begin to look over the menu for a second and a third time. But really, what is so scary about being alone?

Most of it comes down to insecurities and the whole cliche "fear of not being liked," thing; often times, it was not even the fear of not being liked but simply the notion that your peers might begin to think that was the case. But why did being alone automatically make a person a pariah? Is it impossible to be alone out of choice? Struggles with these very questions are what made it so hard to go against the grain in high school, and they are also some of the most important questions that are answered in our post high school days. Upon leaving that fun, sheltered, shallow and confused world that is high school we begin to wonder, at what point doing things alone became so taboo? But thankfully in the process of becoming grown up we learn how to have fun with our friends as well as how to enjoy life while being all alone.

When I arrived in Spain I saw this whole, flying solo, thing in a new light. I found myself alone more than I had ever been before. For once, I was left to my own devices; there were fewer shallow influences and less drama, and I was free to discover my true passions and to realize and do what I really liked. It may sound strange, but one of my favorite discoveries during my Spanish experience has been that I have learned to enjoy my own company; after all, there is only one person who’s opinion will always be there and only one person who has control over my life so I might as well be comfortable with her. It is really a wonderful thing torealize that being alone is not the same as being lonely.

Luck of the Irish

This past week end I was reunited with my Mom and sister Lindsey in Ireland and we took a trip cross country from Dublin City to the Galway bay. During our journey we stopped at the Cliffs of Moher, where carpets of clovers line the pathways to the rugged Irish coast. Despite our searching we never did see any leprechauns or pots of gold, but my Mom did find this vivid four leaf clover during our visit to the cliffs.

When Paths Cross

In some families everyone seems to follow in the same footsteps; somehow they share the same passions, like the same kind of people and end up studying at the same universities. For those families, that works perfectly well, but for others each person chooses to carve a new and unexplored path. I am the baby of four and I have grown up learning from, admiring and observing my three older and very distinct siblings. And when I analyze my own personality it is apparent that I have copied and pasted bits and pieces of each them into the document that is me. This is partly subconscious but also because, like most younger siblings, I have adopted those characteristics and mimicked the actions that my older and more experienced brothers and sisters have already tested on the world. There are certainly some mistakes that we all have to make on our own; but once in a while we get the opportunity to learn from mistakes of others without having to personally suffer the consequences. That is the beauty of being the youngest in a clan.

I often wonder how four people raised in the same home by the same two people can turn out so differently, display such varied passions and talents and take such different paths in life. Most likely the fact that my siblings and I were born over a span of sixteen years has something to do with our broad range of interests; there have been times when I wished that we were more similar because maybe it would make everything easier. Other times I wished that we were closer in age and that we had more opportunities to go through life's experiences simultaneously. But recently, I have not only come to terms with our generational gaps but I have learned to appreciate them. There is something special about each of us being in a different physical and emotional place in our lives; my brother has given me a sneak peak at the world of being a married parent, and my experience in Spain has allowed him to reminisce about his own travels through Europe. My sisters have shown me the joys and struggles of being working women in their twenties; and if I were not here in Europe my sister, who previously had little interest in travel, might never have ventured over the Atlantic this past week end to meet me and experience the "forty shades of green" that flow over Ireland’s lush landscape.

I am realizing that though each of us are carving our own paths and exploring different fields, and even though our decisions may seem so independent from each others lives, they are not independent at all. Katie’s paths have influenced Lindsey’s, and John’s choices have altered and inspired mine. Our diverse backgrounds, and array of interests do not, and will not keep us apart but they make us more interesting and well rounded people for having each other's lives to dabble in and learn from.

Open House

Last night I mingled with some prospective students and some of our own Suffolk undergrads and faculty at the SUMC fall open house. The evening was complete with typical Spanish tapas and our visitors got to hear some words from a diverse group of students who are currently living the Suffolk Madrid experience. Hearing everyone speak and seeing the excited looks on the faces of the incoming students and parents brought me back to when I was in that same position, and it reminded me of all of the reasons why I decided to come here over one year ago.

Above, are two of our friendly staff members who greeted open house visitors at our Madrid campus.

A few current SUMC students share their experiences.

Swissness

The leaves glistened like shiny pennies dangling from trees, and there was a sweet aroma of crepes and chocolate that drifted through the crisp air. As we ambled up and down the winding and rather quiet, streets of Geneva my roommate Stacy and I could describe the Swiss city in only one word, "precious." A feeling came over us like we had been dropped into some fairy tale wonderland where everyone smiled and said Bonjour at any chance they got. A lake filled with beautiful white swans and reflections of the surrounding architecture was plopped right in the middle of the city, allowing us to feel at one with nature while simultaneously being immersed in Geneva’s bustling center. We stayed in a small bed and breakfast owned and run by an old couple who couldn't have been more lovable. They showered us with smiles and boisterous laughs and we woke up each morning to the permeating smells of Swiss hot chocolate and warm flaky croissants. On our first day we took a boat tour around the lake where we relaxed bundled in our winter layers, and where the sun warmed our faces despite the briskness of Switzerland’s November air.

We stopped in countless shops and tea houses that lured us in off of the street with their charm and warm ambiance. Each day Stacy and I found ourselves full when we realized that we had stopped three times within the past two hours, each time forcing ourselves to eat yet another pastry, just so that we could spend a moment in the adorable eateries that lined every street. On our last morning we took a short bus ride to the outskirts of the city where we then walked on foot over the French border. We followed the signs through a tiny French village leading us to a gondola that would bring us to the top of Le Monte Saleve. Clear weather would have been preferable but the clouds that filled the sky that morning made for a mystical trek through the paths that were etched into the top of the mountain.

Geneva is home to over two hundred international organizations, it is the proud owner of the world’s highest water fountain and it is the site of the United Nations headquarters. It is a town overflowing with cultures and languages and most notable to me was its charming character. I found the people of Geneva to be overwhelmingly kind, welcoming, and respectable. This trip to Switzerland, for me, was one of those visits when you head back to the airport and think, "I will be coming back to this place." It was a trip that was inspiring and fulfilling and one that reminded me of what my love for travel is all about.

El Aire Fresco

Beauty Lines

A few friends and I found this woman, all four feet of her, basking in the sun at an outdoor cafe. I got the impression that she would sit there in that same sunny spot every day, since the waiters seemed to treat her as part of the furniture. I also don't believe sun block is, nor was it ever, a part of her repertoire before beginning her daily baking session.

She sat there fiddling with her few small belongings that she kept in a weather worn plastic shopping bag; over and over again, with her pale bony fingers she would take her things out, drop them under her seat and place them back into the tired plastic satchel that she treated like a designer purse. Her actions and appearance were those of a a frail old lady that had, quite frankly, lost her marbles; she was lathered in lost and found apparel and she had a collection of rings and shawls that garnished her tiny frame. But little did we know that once she was spoken to this ancient looking woman could go on for hours cracking juvenile jokes. She told personal tales, some that were believable and others that seemed more like fantasies that she had convinced herself really happened; nonetheless she went on, and we listened.

One of the best parts about coming across a new place is coming across new people. Whether they are wacky or captivating, intelligent or witty, they each leave impressions on us, their own special beauty marks.

Throwback

This is a photo I took in the busy town square of Krakow, Poland last spring; just one of my many freshman year adventures.

Cafe

One of Suffolk Madrid's students, a native of Puerto Rico, studies in a Starbucks on the hip Calle Fuencarral.

When I Grow Up!

As college students we are always setting goals and making predictions about who we will be when we, one day, grow up. Many see the "real world" as a place that will only be relevant in our lives once we are adults. But the truth is, once we do enter the "real world," and we are no longer under the guise of being students, spending each and every day studying and exploring in order to make ourselves more interesting and desirable will no longer be adequate. We will have jobs, responsibilities and maybe families; for many of us, those imaginary friends we had throughout college named Student Loans, will finally become real companions.

But until then we can say, I will do this, I will live there, and will care about those things, when I grow up. But what exactly does growing up consist of? When does it happen? Does a fairy come on one special night and certify us as adults? Like many others my age, I look at my parents and I wonder, when did they learn all that stuff? Do we wake up one morning and suddenly know everything that goes into buying a house, filing taxes, raising a family, and saving for retirement?

I am realizing that this time in my life, a few weeks shy of my twentieth birthday, is one that sparks a flurry of emotions, questions and realizations. Five years ago I was being driven to lacrosse practice and to the movies and looking forward to my very first formal dance; fast forward five years and society's expectations would replace lacrosse practice with a career and dances for weddings at which the bride is my own age. Realizing that I can vividly remember the red dress that I wore to my freshman semi-formal, and specific muddy moments during lacrosse practice at fifteen years old, it has occurred to me that the next five years will go by just as quickly as those past five did. And that, is scary!

I don’t have the answers and maybe I never will; I don’t know when I will consider myself grown up, or if that ever really happens. I don’t know exactly who I will be in twenty years or how adults seem to know all that grown up stuff. What I do know is that time really does fly! Being twenty is the time to enjoy the simplicity in life, it is a strange period when a person is praised for enhancing themselves, and imaginary friends remain imaginary, but this time is unique and even limited . Those people living in the simplest of times, are most likely, not entirely independent; but ironically the independence a twenty year old student can revel in is unparalleled, for that reason it shouldn’t be rushed nor should it be taken for granted.

"There are some kind of men who are so busy worrying about the next life, they've never learned to live in this one."
-To Kill a Mockingbird

Dancing Shoes

As a little girl I remember going to dance class each week. I went through the common phases of obsession with each of the many genres that are typically taught to us young American girls; first it was ballet, then jazz, and after the novelty of the dainty pink slippers and the lace up, jazz shoes wore off, it was, of course, time to take up tap dancing. Later, not only because I looked the part with curly red locks and a face full of freckles, I dabbled in the art of Irish step for a year or two, where I accumulated a few more pairs of slippers to add to my collection. But the time eventually came to hang up my various, and rather costly, pairs of dancing shoes. I left behind those days of practicing routines and anticipating the costume theme for my next dance recital. And even though my own dancing never progressed to a particularly advanced level, I have remained a fan of the many different styles of dance; always jumping at any opportunity to see shows like Stomp, the ballet, the Riverdance, or various Broadway shows.

Here in Spain, my admiration for personal expression through dance continues; I love how it can evoke emotion and even tell stories; and I think that is important since we often underestimate how powerful non verbal communication can be. In Spain the most widely recognized dance is flamenco. ( Not to be mistaken with what so many tourists like to call "flamingo," this dance has absolutely no connection with tall pink birds.) I have had the opportunity to see flamenco on multiple occasions in different parts of the country, and if I were to describe the art in one word it would be, INTENSE! The dancers exude passion, seduction, and sense of struggle. It is certainly not the most light hearted dance, and unlike the girls in my tap recitals, the dancers do not hold a cheesy grin on their faces. Instead, they hold intensity in their eyes and reach out to the audience with each glance. They tell stories using their strong bodies and erotic hands; their stomping feet are bold and their demeanor is stern. The costumes are often traditional with polka dots and vibrant reds but they are unique to each dancer, helping to define every vivid movement put forth on stage.

For anyone used to smiley performances with happy endings and feel good lyrics, flamenco may be an acquired taste, for this dance displays none of the above. However it will not fail to draw you in with its unique flavor that is tragic yet beautiful. Flamenco dancers display raw emotion which can make onlookers feel anything from uneasy to inspired; but either way a good session of flamenco is sure to be a moving, entertaining, and enlightening experience, and it is the perfect event for a low key night out in Espana that will make you want to strap on your old dancing shoes!

Mr. Sosa

Fall Hiking Trip

A group of students took a break from the city lights to hike through the Guadarrama mountain range in Cercedilla.

The Exotic Side

In my recent transition back to life in Spain I began wondering; just how much do we differ from culture to culture? How much are the ways of a Spaniard distinct from those of an average Joe raised in Boston? Perhaps, in believing that we act so differently from our international counterparts we are able to create fantasies of fabulous far off places. After all, if our destinations looked, smelled, and tasted just like home, would we pay hundreds of dollars to squeeze ourselves into an uncomfortable airplane seat that is inevitably next to the loud breather or the crying baby? Of course not! Anticipation of being enveloped in an exotic culture is the main reason why we go abroad in the first place. However, after having observed the routines of these oh so "exotic beings" that inhabit this distant land, I have come to find that their ways are not so foreign at all.

Many Americans come here with the impression that all Spaniards dance flamenco, chase bulls through the streets on weekends, and eat paella daily. Visitors want to see exactly what they had pictured become reality, but are only to be disappointed when the array of Starbucks storefronts and Golden Arches that dot the streets of Madrid remind them of home. This is not to say that flamenco is not danced or that the running of the bulls fails to take place annually. They are thriving practices, but those customs alone do not define Spanish culture. These exotic mental images are simply the prized parts of the culture that us, non-Spaniards, choose to relish in. I have witnessed the historically rich customs and inhaled the romantic spirit that permeates in the air, but more so, Spaniards have demonstrated to me just how many cultural universals there are.

In the past year and some months I have observed so much more about Spaniards than what they can do in a ring or on a stage. I admire Spain's unique art forms, and on the contrary there are certainly behaviors of Spaniard's that I find bizarre; the hair styles? Lets just say, I have never seen so many mullets in real life! But day to day and person to person the routines and life goals of a typical Spaniard and those of an individual from Boston are very much the same; adults go to work, parents care for their children, couples go on dates and children play after school. I have come to realize that the parts of the culture that I value most are not based on entertainment and are not foreign at all. I came here with the intent of learning about Spain's unique past, values and customs but what I didn't know was how much I would learn about my own.

Above are two couples taking cover in the rain together. On the left is a Spanish couple in the town of Avila and on the right are my parents John and Cindy born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts.

Mexico in Madrid

Two Suffolk Madrid students enjoy a night out at a shabby chic Mexican restaurant behind Plaza Mayor.

Madrid Hot Spots!

When living in a foreign country for an extended period of time it can be all too easy to lose that "feeling," the one that makes you walk around in awe of everything and everyone that is new and different, riveting and exotic. When I feel like I am having a day comprised of tedious tasks or I just feel down about anything at all, I always visit Madrid’s Plaza Mayor. Every single time I step into the great square and I pass through the impressive stone archways I feel like I have arrived at a place completely unknown to me; I cannot help but feel drenched in Spanish flavor and I am injected with a dose of that curious "feeling," all over again. At any given hour on any day of the year, the large square is filled with people dining and relaxing .

The attraction that has been an influential part of "Old Madrid" for so long sits on a field of perfectly placed cobble stones and is outlined by intricate buildings that inspire new discoveries with each glance. Artists sell their creations, street performers share their talents and tourists peacefully bask in the sun. Throughout it’s history Madrid’s Plaza Mayor has been rebuilt three times but it has always remained a center for festivals, gatherings and public celebrations. The plaza now attracts people of all ages and backgrounds; both tourists from around the world and Madrileños can be found enjoying this grand plaza, and it is the setting for romantic dates and family dinners alike. Plaza Mayor is a must see! And certainly one of my favorite spots in Madrid.

Bird in the Clouds

Bird in the Clouds.
Plaza Mayor.
Madrid.

My new bedroom

This is my room in my new apartment near metro San Bernardo. It is a large four bedroom flat that I share with three friends. I love it!

Senora Maria Victoria

She is intelligent, bold and kind hearted; her striped skirts never match the wacky patterns that she sports on her blouses, or the polka dotted shoes that she scurries around in; her volume is a bit on the loud side and she never seems to sit down. But Senora Maria Victoria is the woman whom I hold partly responsible for my recent love affair with Spanish culture.

I remember meeting the woman that I would be living with for the next year on pick up day at the Suffolk Madrid Campus and I am not sure exactly what I had in mind when I pictured my senora; but Victoria’s big smile, round face, and easy going demeanor put all my nerves at ease the moment I laid eyes on her. I remember her energetically greeting us with the customary two kisses and then being bombarded by every word in the Spanish language except for the ones that I knew of. For about two full weeks I responded to everything she said with an unsure smile and the words "si" or "vale." At first I had absolutely no clue what she was saying to me but each day I naturally picked up on more vocabulary and became more confidant in responding to my senora with more in depth answers. Victoria quickly became a friend, mentor and cultural guide to my roommates and I. We often laughed with her until we cried and spent countless nights at Maria Victoria’s small dinner table trading stories, trying new foods and practicing our Spanish. She took us to "el Rastro" (Madrid’s flea market ) for the first time, brought me to the country side to horseback ride and treated us as family while we lived under her roof on Avenida de America. Victoria taught me her secret culinary tricks and we introduced her to peanut butter and chocolate chip cookie dough.

I am no longer living with Senora Maria Victoria but I still see her sporadically and I greatly value my time spent with her. This year a new group of American girls will get to grow and learn from Victoria’s crazy and wonderful ways. I now live with three of my best friends in a spacious school sponsored apartment that is in walking distance to all of Madrid’s best attractions. My experience abroad will certainly be a different one this year without having Victoria's gracious presence to come home to each night. Living on my own for the first time is an exciting transition that will certainly have its perks and bring along new challenges; nonetheless it is a chapter in my life that I am sure I will grow from just the same.

Row Boat

Row Boat.
Asturias, Spain.

Low Tide

Asturias, Spain.

Freshman Girls

A group of freshman girls enjoying the views from the cliffs of Llanes.

Fall Orientation in Asturias!

Known for it’s cidra , chorizo, breathtaking views and world renowned cave paintings, Asturias is a wonderful place to absorb some genuine Spanish culture. For the Fall 2007 SUMC orientation the student body got to spend a week in this autonomous community that sits on the edge of Spain’s northern coast and which overlooks the Cantabrian sea.
Like the rest of northern Spain and much like my home in New England, the climate in Asturias is anything but predictable and unfortunately during our stay we saw our fair share of precipitation. However, the rainfall didn't put a damper on the post card pretty views we saw from the cliffs in Llanes, nor did it diminish our excitement about observing the prehistoric cave paintings in Asturias’ famous "cuevas".

During the week some of us went kayaking while others soaked up the rays on secluded beaches, some of us relaxed in our camp style cabins while others explored; but every student clearly fell into, and fell in love with Spain’s laid back and inviting culture.

Me Voy

My fingers grip the top of our old mahogany railing and I can see that the heavy duty zippers on my over sized blue duffel bags are being stretched to their limits. My luggage is packed and it sits so patiently in front of our red door at 476 Canton Street. Contained in the bulky bags are my collections of eclectic things and unnecessary clothing that I insist on bringing along. But unlike my neatly packed luggage that will sit still until further notice, my brain is scattered and anxiety keeps my fatigued body alert. My nerves, however, are perfectly understandable because in a few short hours my blue duffels and I will be returning to Spain's bustling capital to begin my second year of college. Departing from Logan airport will be a bit easier this time around since I know what to expect; I have a grasp on the Spanish language and I know that I am returning to a romantic culture and a close knit college community. This year I have fewer worries about adjusting to Spain's lifestyle or about making friends, but one task that never gets easier is saying goodbye to my family. I always get a sick feeling in my stomach the moment that I disappear behind the security gates and the sad smiles and frantically waving hands of the Gillooly clan fade from my sight. Those first sixty seconds past the gates are the worst; I feel alone and frighteningly independent. But soon after, that loneliness turns into a rush of excitement, thoughts of the world that awaits and the exotic adventures to come out way any sadness that remains in the back of my mind and in the bottom of my heart. For now those emotions will be put on the back burner because today I am the luckiest girl in the world. I am going back to the vibrant, historic, and modern European metropolis of Madrid to spend another one of the most memorable years of my life.