a reflection incomplete

So, here I am. Nearly the end of my time in Europe. I figured a final blog of sort should probably be written. But, about what? I’ve gone on a few other vacations which I never blogged about. It’s odd how the romanticism of Europe fades. I’ve become jaded I suppose. When I first arrived here everything was so spectacular and unbelievable. But as time went on the sure vagabond and romantic stupification faded and writing about them became harder…Places I’ve gone to and never written about: Barcelona, Andalusia, The Basque Country, and Paris. All were amazingly awesome, all will forever hold places in my heart, but, for whatever reason, writing ten page blogs about them could have never happened. I went to them and they were beautiful and interesting and very different from Madrid. The Basque country is one of the most beautiful places on earth. Small rolling green hills which were covered in green trees and fresh wild grass dominated the landscape. The ocean coast and beaches were of a spectacular beauty I have not seen on the beaches of the west coast USA. Plus, they were nude beaches…unfortunately the topless women were all old. Barcelona is a city of grand urban culture. Hip modern artists and musicians make Barcelona their home and the feel of it is, if one can compare a foreign city to something back home, like Seattle or Portland. And the architecture of Gaudi is unlike any architecture the world has ever seen and will never be seen again. Andalusia is the home of all images of traditional Spain. Flamenco music, sangrias, and bullfights were all born here. All the city streets are lined with orange trees which the government harvests and uses to make wine and candles and all sorts of other orange related products. And Paris, oh sweet Paris. Paris will forever hold a special place in my heart. What an unbelievably romantic city. I went with a friend I met way too late into my stay here. Here name is Christah and she is fellow lover of content moments and knows how to bask blissfully in the silence of awe. Paris is known as the most romantic city in the world, and as the world has changed I’m sure this is less true than it used to be, but still, Paris contains so many quiet corners of beauty that are much harder to find in a city like Madrid. Oh, and…The Eiffel Tower. I really thought this would be a place I went to just to say I’ve been there. But, the Eiffel Tower is amazing, and a huge pork boarders it’s southern front and spending an evening with a bottle of champagne (imagine that, champagne is affordable in France), staring in gawking awe of the golden hue of the industrial wonder that is the Tower is one of the finest evenings I’ve had to date in Europe.
I realize that was a very fast overview of some of the most famous areas in Western Europe. Take me out for a drink, buy me dinner, or met me for coffee when I return and I’ll tell you much more about all of them.

I was told before I left I would not return the same person. That this experience abroad would forever change the person I was. And, I suppose I’m not the best person to make this call, but, I believe this is undoubltedly true. I do not feel like the same person. I do not feel like the naïve wanderer I was when I got here. Something innocent within me has died. I don’t know if this is good thing, though I imagine it happens to every human at some point in their life. But, I feel surer of myself for it. More certain of the person I am, who I want to be, what I want to do with my life. I feel the understanding of what matters in life is far more apparent to me.
Allow me to explain that last one. I was certain upon leaving The States for Spain that I would discover all I hated about America. That seeing how Europe was ran and how the “most intelligent” society in the world lived would forever taint my views of my country. But, this could not be further from the truth. The exact opposite has happened. I have found I am so amazingly proud to be American. To be an ex-mormon from a potato farm in Idaho. This is my heritage. This is who I am. This is where I come from, and I wouldn’t change any of it for all the jamon in spain.
Here, I’ve met so many other Americans who have abandoned their homes in the united states certain of the grandeur of European life and here looking for a better life. They call themselves “ex-patriots.” Really they do. I’ve heard them refer to themselves as thus time and time again. And, I hate them. I can say this, because I haven’t met a single one I thought was a good human being. They are facadical. Attempting so incredibly hard to prove their worth, their intelligence, their superiority over others by living an exciting life abroad. Many have been living abroad for many years, some ten years plus. But, the sad truth I’ve discovered after hours of conversations with a handful of them, is that they are simply always on the run from themselves. In San Sebastian (an important city of the Basque country) I got into a debate with a girl from San Diego, I have already forgotten her name. She (and she is not even remotely the first person I’ve heard to make this argument) said that Americans are ignorant and refuse to leave their comfort zone and that America is a country on the downfall and the government is the most evil on the planet. She said that it’s refreshing to live in the most intelligent society on the planet. This aggravated me very much. I asked her to define intelligence for me, and she simply defined it as education. And, while I will make absolutely no debate for the fact that Europeans are hands down more educated than Americans, I too indeed wish that the United States had an education system like Europe, this is far from the definition of intelligence for me. I didn’t know how to articulate intelligence with an accurate sentence but I was able to defend my case like this…I have not had a single conversation here that I haven’t had in The States. We are all humans, we all have the same brains and interpret information in the exact same manner. The most intelligent conversations I’ve had in The States with my good friends are on the exact par with the amazingly intelligent conversations I’ve had here…some of those are with friends who have never gone to a university a single day in their lives. Europeans are no more intelligent than Americans. This is complete and utter bullshit, a neat thing for ex-patriots to believe in order to feel they are doing something of grand importance with their life. I spoke with my father about this and he gave me that one sentence definition of intelligence that I wish I had that night: “Intelligence is the wise use of knowledge.” I find this to be profoundly true.
Now, I’m not saying living abroad is a bad thing and all people should stay in their homes. Clearly, I’m not. Living abroad has been the best experience of my life. The most fullfiling and thought provoking thing I have ever done. And, in many many many ways I am very sad to go home. I wish I could stay in Europe for another year, or two. But, I am so proud of my country…not my government, nor our poor excuse for education and health care and career driven lives. But, our culture, the people who compose it, the beauty of our nature, our sense of humor I love so much. I am proud to be American, and I am very excited to return to my country.

There are other random thoughts of mine that have changed since coming here. Before leaving I was annoyed that most Americans make no effort to learn a foreign language. And in a lot of ways I still am annoyed by this. I wish we as Americans would put a larger effort into studying a foreign tongue. But, what I’ve discovered is based upon the sheer massive size of the United States learning a foreign language is so much harder for us. Europe is tiny. A European can get into their car and drive six hours and be in a completely different country with completely different language and whole different world of culture. Do this in the states and if you even leave your state, you are in another state with, more or less, the exact same culture and undoubtedly the same language. In Europe, at least in the cities, all day every day you hear a slew of different languages. In Spain I hear French, German, Arabic, Japanese (or some oriental tongue, I really don’t have a reference to distinguish them) and with a little less frequency, Italian. Europe is a nation without borders. Citizens of the EU are free to travel to other countries for short periods of time (I believe a few weeks) without any need for visas. Another reason for Europeans knowing a foreign language is because of their school systems. For me to travel abroad it cost…well…it cost a lot of money. But, for Europeans it costs the same amount of money as their home universities…which cost all of 700 euro for an entire year of school. Europeans just have such a larger opportunity to learn a new language in comparison to the citizens of The United States. Now does this excuse the apathy of wanting to learn a new language…not exactly, not at all…but, it’s much harder to learn a new language when you never have an opportunity to practice it.

These final weeks in Madrid I have been wandering the city seeing the places I’ve been a hundred times before recalling the memories of utter joy that were once felt there. But, now it’s a feeling of sadness. Those people I was with, the friends I’ve made, (the girl I feel for), are gone. They have returned to their home states, most of which are from the east coast and who I will undoubtedly never see again. It is hard. It is very hard. The midnight rose is a hotel in Madrid of utter beauty which at night they light with purple and orange lights and I stood there late one evening with a good friend feeling the healing power of light and the warmth and comfort of a trusted individual. Today I ate dinner in the same plaza and I felt nothing but pain. It’s sad, I know. I accept the fact that I knew this all would end. This alternative reality that I have been living in for the past five months was entered knowing it was temporary. But it does not make it any easier. How I miss the people I’ve met here. This is undoubtedly the hardest part of leaving. I will miss the Spanish lifestyle. The slow lunches eaten in plazas under the cool Spanish spring air, the beer sipped for lunch, the ability to smoke anywhere I like. But, Yelim, Eric, Christah, David, and a few others are what really hurts. I loved all of these people very much, and they have all helped to shape my mind in a new and unexpected direction.

To you my friends, allow us to raise our glasses one symbolic final time. Salud.

Anyway, that’s all I can think to write for now. Maybe more will come. I’m off to Switzerland the day after tomorrow to stay with my grand uncle before returning home to the states. I’m sure more thoughts will come to me once removed from Madrid.

Huzza!
Jake.