What are you going to do for two months?

After saying good-bye to Toledo and Spain, I am ready for part two of my time abroad: Ireland! After leaving Toledo yesterday afternoon, I took the bus to Madrid, the metro to the airport (with my giant suitcase-- I explained to a couple who remarked on its size that I had been here for three months. And to be fair, I still have about two months to go), and then caught a flight to Dublin, where my cousin was waiting to pick me up and drive  the two hours to Waterford.

This plan to stay in Ireland for the next month or so (I fly back to the U.S. on June 22) developed after the hiccup with my schedule back in January. In summary, I was supposed to stay in Spain until the beginning of June, and then spend two weeks (not months!) in Ireland. When my plans to stay in Spain fell through, I decided to go to Ireland anyway and leave my return date for the end of June.

The question that people have been asking (and that I had been asking myself as the end of the semester approached) is what exactly I was going to do in Ireland for that length of time.

The customs man in Dublin actually had the same question, along with fifty more:

"Where are you from?"

"Why aren't you in school?"

"Where are you going in Ireland?"

"How long are you staying here?"

"What family do you have here?"

"Are you going to work?"

And finally:

"What are you going to do for two months?"

I had come up with a list of things for my own sake before I came here. I wanted to read (I have a list about a page in length). I wanted to run. And I wanted to write. I knew I would probably spend a lot of time playing with my cousins, possibly babysitting, and I had looked into volunteering a bit.

But standing in front of the customs man--a stony-faced, skeptical-sounding person--after a half-day of traveling, I couldn't quite capture the hodge-podge assembly of "things I was going to do."

And so I picked the simplest answer: "I'm going to write."

He looked at me, as skeptical as ever:

"What are you going to write?"

Afterwards, I wondered what would have happened if I had pulled out some of my brainstorms and outlines, or if I had started to explain lists of characters and settings. Instead, I just said something vague about a thesis, a project, something for school next year.

He then asked how much money I had, what I would do if I got sick (I could almost hear his thoughts: idealistic college student going to Ireland to write? For two months? She's going to run out of money and stay here forever. Does she even know these family members she's talking about? This sounds like the worst plan ever) before finally stamping my passport and letting me through.

I felt a little silly afterwards, because I really don't know exactly what I'm going to do here for two months, and I have now told a complete stranger that I am planning to "write."

But so far things seem to be going fairly well.

My cousin met me at the airport, and though the plane was an hour late we made it into Waterford by 2:30am. I spent today catching up with family members, playing hide-and-seek with cousins, going to the library, going for a run, and now (true to my word!) writing. It's not a thesis, but I think it counts for something.

As for my plans for this blog, since I am still abroad, still traveling and thinking, I've decided to keep writing here. Or maybe to start writing again. Ideally, I will recount some of the stories I skipped over in Spain (okay, so the majority of my stay in Spain). But since I've been promising to do this (and failing) I'm really okay with writing anything. Maybe some trips in Ireland. Maybe just some thoughts about what I'm reading. I guess it depends what exactly I do end up doing "for two months."

Los últimos días

Time in Toledo has flown by, and I have just this morning and afternoon before I have to go. A few days ago, as we were finishing up finals and starting to talk more and more about going home, I thought that this last weekend would drag by as I waited anxiously to leave. Especially after saying good-bye to most of the group on Friday night at the Fund’s graduation ceremony (yes, we had a ceremony. Complete with a speech, diplomas, a slideshow, and food), I imagined spending Saturday missing everyone and bored with Toledo. But now it’s Sunday and part of me still doesn’t want to leave.

I really couldn’t think of a more perfect end though. After finals on Wednesday, we had a “Fund Formal” which basically consisted of dressing up (if you felt like it), going to the old wall that surrounds the historic part of the city, and the proceeding to the bars. Most people stuck around and went to the clubs after that, but I left early with Ellie (who was leaving the next morning) to spend some more time on the wall talking and looking out at the old bridge over the river.

Thursday was pretty laid back. Ellie and Molly left for their 2-week trip to Eastern Europe. The rest of us hung around the Fund, walked by the river, and then went out to Enebro’s one last time. Friday was a little bit busier: we got our grades, ate our last lunch at the Fund, met with professors, and had our little graduation ceremony.

And then Saturday! The day that I envisioned as long and lonely was so beautiful and full. I spent the morning packing and doing some last minute shopping, and then my host mother and I went to see the Spanish “Forrest Gump.” There is a man who has been running for the last month to raise awareness for cancer research. His name is José Maria, but they call him Forrest because he has been running for so long. The run ended yesterday in Toledo. My host mother’s friend, who works for the cancer association in Toledo, organized his reception into the city. Unfortunately, it was raining all morning, so only a small group of people showed up to cheer in the cold, but it was still a lot of fun. We huddled under a small tent, wearing t-shirts that read ¡Corre, Forrest, corre! (Run, Forrest, run!) When he finally arrived, joined by a group of runners from Toledo, they played the Forrest Gump soundtrack and cheered him over the finish line.

After lunch, I went to the café/bar by the Fund to read and have one last café con leche (I was not a big fan of coffee before coming here, but the coffee in Spain is just so much better). The bartender recognized me, and asked why I was still here (since most of the students had already left). I talked with her and a couple sitting at the bar for a while, and they complimented me on my Spanish. I stayed there for about half an hour, reading Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald (I have been reading this almost all semester because I never want to read after doing my reading for class, but I have stopped slacking now and am finally finishing it). Afterwards, I met up with Vanessa, Rebecca, and Madeline to see some of the tourist sights of Toledo that we’d missed. Vanessa had her practicas (internship) at the tourism office and they gave her some passes for free. We saw a monastery, the synagogue, and a few churches (one which had El Greco’s famous painting, El entierro del señor de Orgaz. We’d talked about it in my theology class a little, but Vanessa and Madeline were both in an art class and were able to explain it a little more. Not my favorite El Greco painting, but it was good to see it.)

The weather had gotten much better at this point, and so after saying goodbye, I headed back to the apartment to change and go for a run. It was cool and just a little breezy (the perfect temperature for running) and the sun was low in the sky and reflecting off the river. I took my usual route by the palacio, glancing through to see the small group of olive trees for the last time. There is a herd of sheep that sometimes graze under the highway (it’s less strange than it sounds, I promise), and they were there that night. At first I was glad (one last look at the sheep! Another last in Spain!) but then I realized that I had to run past said sheep, and I didn’t like the way that they were looking at me. After awkwardly jogging in place, trying to decide if I should turn around and take a longer loop around them, the sheep herder showed up in his car. The sheep ambled to the side to make a path for him and, consequently, a path for me. As I passed them, one of the sheep baa-ed at me, and I jumped a little to the side and kept running. The sheep herder laughed at me inside his car, and I had to admit that it was a little ridiculous to be afraid of a sheep.

I spent some time with my host mother that evening, watching the news and chatting over dinner. It’s surprising how much Toledo has come to feel like home. I have a running route, people recognize me in the streets, in the supermercado, in certain cafes. I pass students and teachers from the colegio where I volunteered. I know the different areas of the casgo. The strangest part of all, though, is that I will be leaving here in a few short hours. I will be leaving and I might never come back. It is one thing to leave a “home” knowing that you will return someday. It is one thing to leave a temporary place and know that you won’t see it again. But I have settled in here somewhat, and at the very least it will be years before I come here again, and then I will be just another tourist.

It has been wonderful here, despite my small complaints, and I am very sad to leave. I am excited to be heading to Ireland for these next two months, and to go back to Minnesota after that, but still I hate to go. I suppose it must end the way that all study abroad programs end: with a hope of coming back someday and with an appreciation for the months spent here. So ¡adios, Toledo! Or rather, ¡hasta luego! I hope to see you again soon.