If you'll now permit me (oh what the hell, it's my blog), I'm going to address an issue that seems to be very important for a vast group of people on the internet. Those people who seem to be convinced that after college (or after high school...) they will be moving to Spain. And those people who also have it planned to stay in Spain after they finish their study abroad term in the country; they just won't get on the flight back to the US.
I'm here to burst that bubble, poop that party, rain on that parade. Because guess what. You want to move to Spain/overstay your visa? Good luck with that. Really. I'm just going to make something clear here: you have no idea what you're planning.
*Note* This post is geared mainly towards North Americans, since Europeans don't have to worry about anything I'm saying here. And because everyone I've seen saying things like this is from North America, and not Europe.
dimarts, 13 de setembre del 2011
diumenge, 11 de setembre del 2011
The Day New York Stood Still
Ten years ago, I was sixteen years old, a sophomore in high school (grade 10), attending an international boarding school in the small city of Kandern, in Southwest Germany.
At 3:43 pm I was in history class, and I looked at the clock; we were being let out early. Fifteen minutes later I was reaching the front steps of the residence dorms where I lived, and an eighth grade girl ran out to see if anyone was coming, saw me, and announced that the World Trade Center in New York City had been hit by a bomb. I remember thinking about my own experiences living in the somewhat volatile Basque Country and thinking that "safe" America probably hadn't been hit too badly, but I went upstairs anyway, to the TV room where the dorm staff was watching CNN, the only English station we got on TV.
That was when I saw the Pentagon smoking, and I knew something was very, very wrong. Five minutes later the feed switched to New York, where the footage of the second plane hitting the Towers was replayed over and over again, the South Tower already hit. Twenty minutes later, the North Tower collapsed, and I just stood there.
Two weeks earlier, at a Carrefour in Málaga where my parents were living, I saw a mosaic poster featuring the Twin Towers, the pictures making up the mosaic being snapshots of New York City. I hung it up in my room, above my bed, on move-in day and when I went into my room to drop my backpack off, I saw the poster I'd bought and broke down in tears. I didn't stop crying the rest of the day.
Three weeks earlier, I flew out of JFK airport en route to Paris, and was convinced I'd be back soon to visit the Towers and the city again. Instead, I got a trip to a Ground Zero where the rubble was already cleared out, but a mess still remained.
I may not have lost anyone in the attacks, I may not have been directly affected. But we're all affected, in some way or another. That 2001-02 school year was one of the most trying, most difficult times in my life and I'm still dealing with it. I'm still dealing with the feelings of loneliness and insecurity that have plagued me since I was sixteen.
Here's to everyone who gave up something on that day ten years ago. Here's to the first responders, to the firefighters, to the police officers, to the families who lost someone or who were lost themselves. Here's to the city of New York. The greatest city in the world. Here's to the city that never sleeps, never rests, never gives up. Here's to the city that I have adored since the day I was born. Here's to the city that reminds us all, every single day, that there is hope, that there is joy, that there is peace. Here's to every single little thing that reminds us to never give up, to never surrender.
At 3:43 pm I was in history class, and I looked at the clock; we were being let out early. Fifteen minutes later I was reaching the front steps of the residence dorms where I lived, and an eighth grade girl ran out to see if anyone was coming, saw me, and announced that the World Trade Center in New York City had been hit by a bomb. I remember thinking about my own experiences living in the somewhat volatile Basque Country and thinking that "safe" America probably hadn't been hit too badly, but I went upstairs anyway, to the TV room where the dorm staff was watching CNN, the only English station we got on TV.
That was when I saw the Pentagon smoking, and I knew something was very, very wrong. Five minutes later the feed switched to New York, where the footage of the second plane hitting the Towers was replayed over and over again, the South Tower already hit. Twenty minutes later, the North Tower collapsed, and I just stood there.
Two weeks earlier, at a Carrefour in Málaga where my parents were living, I saw a mosaic poster featuring the Twin Towers, the pictures making up the mosaic being snapshots of New York City. I hung it up in my room, above my bed, on move-in day and when I went into my room to drop my backpack off, I saw the poster I'd bought and broke down in tears. I didn't stop crying the rest of the day.
Three weeks earlier, I flew out of JFK airport en route to Paris, and was convinced I'd be back soon to visit the Towers and the city again. Instead, I got a trip to a Ground Zero where the rubble was already cleared out, but a mess still remained.
I may not have lost anyone in the attacks, I may not have been directly affected. But we're all affected, in some way or another. That 2001-02 school year was one of the most trying, most difficult times in my life and I'm still dealing with it. I'm still dealing with the feelings of loneliness and insecurity that have plagued me since I was sixteen.
Here's to everyone who gave up something on that day ten years ago. Here's to the first responders, to the firefighters, to the police officers, to the families who lost someone or who were lost themselves. Here's to the city of New York. The greatest city in the world. Here's to the city that never sleeps, never rests, never gives up. Here's to the city that I have adored since the day I was born. Here's to the city that reminds us all, every single day, that there is hope, that there is joy, that there is peace. Here's to every single little thing that reminds us to never give up, to never surrender.
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