Being Lost

I’m lost here. I’m so fucking lost here. The original and initial response to the overwhelming beauty that abounds in this city is beginning to fade and the utter solitude I feel here is beginning to settle. Which sucks, but I might as well keep this blog truthful to the actualities of living abroad. I was told before leaving I would not return the same person and after two weeks, I can see how true this statement is. I will not be the same person. The shift in perception, the change in me has already begun. And like every drastic change in my life, and I would assume anyone’s life, it begins with hitting a place something like rock bottom. Every day life in Madrid is becoming redundant with it’s difficulties. This feeling of being so lost definitely has one, of a few roots, root in not speaking the language. Back to that idea of being deaf and dumb here. It’s very frustrating not having any basis for communication here. It leaves me in a complete state of solitude. And, I’m refusing to compromise myself and resign to hanging out with the other American 20 year olds here. Of course there are a few exceptions. I have two American friends here who I like very much. But, I came here for the counterpoint. To discover another culture. To juxtapose my own life with a culture completely foreign and independent from my own. I am grateful for the friends I do have, but, on some levels it feels like I left home where the people I love the most are, to meet other Americans. Side note to this, it’s funny the shift in how we (Americans) view ourselves. When we got off the plane originally and had our meet and greats with usac, it was important to define where we were from in America. As if it was a huge difference. Now, for me atleast, it’s to a point where whether you are from the west, Midwest, east, or south, we are all simply Americans. And our attitudes and personalities truly are very similar, very American. I don’t feel the need to locate my upbringing anymore. I am American, and that sums up who I am.
But, the being lost. I could not have prepared myself for this in anyway. It’s hard to explain the feeling. I wouldn’t feel this way if I was simply vacationing here for two weeks. If I was just backpacking and seeing the cities and getting a feel for the emotions they produce. But, the actualization of this is my home for half a year. This is where I walk, eat, sleep, socialize, go to school, gives one a feeling of utter confusion. Submitting myself to something so strange can only make one lost. All securities I’ve held on to disappear and I’m left naked and exposed. I’m sure with time it will become easier. It will. I know this. And that’s why this feeling is bearable, because I understand it’s temporary, but damn, it doesn’t make it easier. Even down to the literal sense. I can’t go anywhere here without getting lost. Trying to find my way around is daunting. I’m to the point where I’m going to go buy a compass to navigate easier. Cardinal directions have no inherit sense for me here. There are not natural landmarks to identify because buildings loom everywhere and streets do not run on a grid system. Everything is without direction here. I even tried to revert to my boy scout days when I had the bright idea of finding the north star….oh, I forgot, there are not stars in cities with six million inhabitants. Madrid is a place designed to confuse.
I’m entering a crisis of the soul. And the only way out is to rely on myself, to find the strength that has gotten me through some of the harder parts of my life. I’ve been able to overcome things in the past and become strong and confident, this is just another obstacle. But, it’s frightening not having any sense of security here, no way of predicting what will happen. There is no safely lining, no oracle or muse to hint and guide me. I’m alone on this one. Boy howdy, am I. Also though, that uncertainty I love as well. It’s so unknown who I’ll meet, what I’ll learn, what I’ll do, what I’ll discover. And these hidden treasures that are promised based upon my lust for them, are what allows me to stay so positive here. The adventure has begun, the surface level of beauty has been discovered (and is still being discovered. I often find myself stunned by the beauty of the buildings and art here).
And, again, because it’s so difficult. Coming to another country and not speaking the language sucks. Really really really bad. Super bad. Unfathomably bad. It’s testing in ways I could never imagine. Last night I went to a club and tried to order a beer. Cervaza. Easy right? My accent is so strong, and the Spanish accent is so unique, that my words are completely un understandable. Situations like this are what defeat me. However, my Spanish gets better daily. On such a minimal scale. I have so much to learn. I went to a café this morning and actually successfully ordered what I wanted. Without confusion, without frustration. That was incredibly pleasing.

Still gonnna sign out with utter excitement,

huzza!
jake.