Kelsey Social: Search results for leaving again

I’m leaving again. It’s been over a course of seven years now that I’ve found myself leaving from what I know as comfortable and moving somewhere unfamiliar: a college that no one in my hometown had ever heard of or could even pronounce - New Zealand, the absolute furthest country I could go - and Ecuador, alone, not speaking the language.

I don’t really know why I do this myself. What is the continuous draw to the unfamiliar? It makes me sick inside remembering difficult times of loneliness so far from home, getting robbed, becoming poor, being sick, and craving familiarity.

But some little spark in my stomach stems out to make my legs restless. Telling me to get up and go. What will happen? What can I learn and how will I grow from it – the good and the bad.

I want a challenge. Everyday should be an adventure. I don’t want comfort to find ME in familiar food, a warm bed, my home. I want the comfort to come within. I need to be able to find comfort within myself and find familiarity in the unfamiliar.

I could embrace my idea of “normal.” I could get a proper job, an affordable apartment that I’d fill with DIY projects found on Pinterest. I could drive to work and eat my Tupperware quinoa salad at my desk. I could go to my weekly yoga class and come home just in time to spend the night on the couch watching Netflix. Waiting for the weekend.

I could. I easily could be ~~content~~ happy with the lifestyle. But first, I need just a little bit more.

I want to fuel my curiosity. I want to be confused. And challenged. And lost. I want to taste more foods that I love and discover more foods that I hate. I want to dance badly and sleep deeply. Hell, I want to sleep badly, too!

I want to be alone. I want to be lonely and still be okay. I want to find inspiration and as I write, the words just bleed from my fingertips. And better yet, somebody, somewhere will want to read these words and feel something. Anything.

But I’m leaving again. Off to Barcelona. My first trip to Europe! I may not have the best sense of direction this time. There may not be enough money in my bank account or experience under my belt. But I’ll be okay.

I’m ready to discover more about the world… and myself.

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Goodbyes always seem so dramatic in the movies. Eyes are filled with tears, men tend to run along the side of trains and the weather just happens to be dreary just like that foggy night in Casablanca with trench coats and the ever famous farewell line: “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

These scenes are never tearjerkers for me. I wouldn’t necessarily classify myself as “movie crier” at all, but the whole concept of saying goodbye is often overly portrayed as melodramatic.

I’ve been confident about my opinion on this sappy subject for years until, unfortunately, a few weeks ago.

I wiped away tears while taking the elevator down to the lobby of my apartment building. I needed to throw bags of trash into the dumpster, bags filled with a pair of my worn converse, disregarded scribbles of class notes and maps that had been pinned to my walls for months – basically anything I could trash in order to lighten my luggage.

I was focused on moving out of my flat in time to catch a flight to the South Island of New Zealand where I would be traveling for the following weeks.

As I walked into the lobby, I saw the tear-stained faces of the people I spent the last five months getting to know. The people from countries scattered around the world and all across America that were so different from me, but quickly became my best friends.

I didn’t decide to study abroad to make new friends or meet people, I wanted to see the world and become familiar with the country.

I am satisfied with my relationship with New Zealand, I immersed myself into the culture and traveled more within the country in five months than I have around the U.S. my entire life, but during the last days, it wasn’t the relationship with the country that concerned me, it was ending the relationships with the people I shared the time.

So I walked to and from the dumpster without acknowledging my emotional friends and headed back up to my flat to grab my bags, along with my composure.

It’s not easy accepting the fact that the world is a large place and you may never see these people ever again.

Yes, the Internet allows us to Skype, email and easily keep in touch, but the understanding sits in the back of our minds that the bond will never be same.

Once I was able to get my emotions under control, I joined my group of friends in the lobby for the final farewells.

Most goodbyes are awkward. No one ever knows the right words to say, but I’ve realized now that most things are better left unsaid.

That unsatisfied, incomplete feeling will always exist after a sincere goodbye and I recognize that there is nothing one can say or do to fulfill it.

So we all cried and hugged and sometimes didn’t say a word while onlookers stared at us, most not able to comprehend the situation as it is something that the majority of people have never experienced and may never will.

Leaving and losing such valuable relationships is not an experience I would recommend to others, but it is a part of traveling that one cannot avoid.

After returning home to my family and friends, I still feel a bit of emptiness and I’m only now realizing that it will never go away, but only be ignored, as the memories are more important. So far it seems easier to remember than to miss.

I was reading a book during the end of my time abroad and posted a quote from it on my wall for inspiration and would now recommend it to any other traveler who inevitably faces the final goodbye.

“So many people enter and leave your life. Hundreds of thousands of people! You have to keep the door open so they can come in, but it also means you have to let them go.”

-Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

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Almost everyday I find a new phrase that makes the Spanish I know - from Ecuador - a different language than the Spanish spoken here in Spain. Sometimes I wonder if it is comparable to English in different countries (I do remember not understanding much during my first classes in New Zealand), but I think the differences from Ecuador and Madrid's Spanish are even more prevalent.

I love learning new words and phrases in English, my native language, but it is obviously much easier to pick up on new things from a language in which I am not quite fluent. (Fluency is a whole 'nother topic for a different day).

While I'm disappointed that one of my favorite words, chuchaqui, is not used here, I've filled my vocabulary with a few other new favorites.

So, here are 10 of my favorite words/phrases I've learned while living in Madrid:

1. Botellón (boh-tay-own) refers to a group of people drinking outside in a public space. Money is collected. Bottles, cans, cups, ice, whatever are bought. And then the gathering begins in the park, plaza, street or beach.

Although drinking publicly is technically illegal here, it is definitely not enforced and botellónes are a common activity. They're cheaper, spacious, and have a better atmosphere. I'm in!

2. Tapear (tah-pay-ar) is a beautiful verb describing the act of going out to eat tapas. You know tapas, right? Little plates of delicious food that normally come free with a drink and perfectly accompany a glass of sangria. You can take whatever comes with your drink or if you're looking to create a meal, choose from a menu to order your own.

While tapas are great, the act of going out to tapear is about more than just the food. It's about the company, the drinks, and the hours of conversation over many tiny plates of croquettes and calamar.

3. Sobremesa (so-breh-meh-sa) is a cultural act, a common occurrence, and it can often happen after you go out to tapear. It is the time when the plates have been cleared, the coffee has been served and the conversation continues. Meals are important in Spanish culture and meant to be enjoyed. Employees even often have at least two or three hour lunch breaks with plenty time for some sobremesa.

4. Pijo (pee-ho) is a slang word that doesn't need too much explanation. It is a noun for a snob, a yuppie, or a spoiled person. I just enjoy when I hear Spanish speakers use the word in conversation. It has a short, sharp sound and while pijo (or pija for a female) doesn't normally have a positive connotation, it can also be used playfully.

(Disclaimer: I really may only like this word because the first time I heard pijo, I confused it with piojos. Now, I know that word well because I had a terrible week of checking my English students' heads in Ecuador for piojos (head lice). So please don't get those confused and say that the ritzy area uptown is full of piojos instead of pijos. Yuck.)

5. Zurdo (Zoor-doh) may only be special to a specific group of us, the left-handed people of the world. A zurdo (or zurda) is the word for a lefty. I think it's interesting because it isn't really related to the Spanish word for left: izquierda. I love having a specific word to call myself rather than just being left-handed. No doubt, I am proud to be zurda.

6. Vale (vah-leh) is a word that I probably hear at least 50 times a day. Sometimes 50 times in a single conversation. Vale means "OK." Or "Yes." "Yeah." "Yup." Right, you get the idea. I like to use the word repeatedly and pretend like I'm a local.

7. Guiri (gi-ri) is the term for a tourist or a foreigner. It's not meant to be an insult, but like most words, it can be used negatively as well. Some people don't like the term guiri, but I see it more as a fact: I was not born in Spain, Spanish is not my native language, and I have not been here long enough to be considered a local.

Maybe once I start eating dinner at 11 o'clock at night and habitually greet people with two cheek kisses, I'll be able to lose the guri name. Until then, I'll proudly accept it.

8. Hasta Luego (ah-sta lu-ey-go) is a phrase everyone learns in their 7th grade Intro to Spanish class. It translates directly to "until later" or "see you later" so we assume to use it in the same context. I was very confused the first time a random shop clerk said "Hasta Luego" as I was leaving because I definitely had no plans to see him later or ever again. But in Spain, it can be said for any type of goodbye.

When using this phrase, say it quickly and turn it all into one long word. Drop the beginning and emphasize the "O." When you get it down, no one will think your a guiri. "Staluegooooo!"

9. La Marcha (lah march-ah) is simply put, the march. It is the word for all nightlife in Spain. The nightlife that when you ask how we'll get home when the metro closes at 1:30 a.m. and the Spaniards respond, "No problem, it opens back up at six o'clock." La Marcha is nothing to be taken lightly, but it's something to be enjoyed fully.

10. Madrileño (mah-dree-len-yo) is somewhat the opposite of guiri. If you're from Madrid, you live in Madrid, or you associate yourself with any and all things Madrid, you are Madrileño (or Madrileña for girls) and you shall be proud of it.

So, what did I forget? What are your favorite Spanish words and phrases?

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As a teenager, one of my favorite things to do was read aloud with friends from the embarrassing stories section of magazines like Seventeen or CosmoGirl: "OMG, my crush saw me do a belly flop at the pool! I was mortified."

With traveling to different countries, through strange cultures and speaking foreign languages, embarrassing moments happen. A lot.

I know this well because I have many stories much worse than those in the teenage magazines. But I don't always want to share these moments on here because, well, they're embarrassing!

I thought it would ease my nerves a little bit by asking a few other bloggers to share their mortifying moments along with mine.

Read on for my story and others that will make you blush from across the globe.

Grow Shop Pantie Drop

In Spain, growing marijuana for your own recreational or medicinal use is legal. For this reason, you'll see many "Grow Shops" while walking around the major cities. These shops don't actually sell the plant, but they do provide the seeds and other materials used to grow and smoke it.

During my year in Madrid, I lived in an apartment above a grow shop. There were usually some hip, young people hanging around, but other than that we didn't notice the shop much. However, our laundry lines hung in a hollow part of the building directly above their patio filled with mulch, pots, ladders and other gardening supplies.

One day, I was short on time before work and didn't remove all of my dry laundry from the line. I left about ten or twelve pairs of clean underwear hanging from the clothespins. While I was gone, an afternoon storm came through and blew all of my panties off the line and scattered them, soaking wet, into the patio below.

While I would have loved to just forget about them and go buy a few new pairs, I was on a budget and didn't want to blow my hard earned Euros on a bunch of new underwear. So I marched downstairs, and tried to tell the attractive, tattooed guy in his 20s about my predicament. I thought my Spanish was good, but explaining panties in a patio was difficult. He eventually understood, but instead of letting me retrieve them, he walked into the patio, grabbed a few pairs and returned with a wet, lacy handful.

I had to tell him there were more. "No. Hay mas," I said while feeling the heat coming off of my blushing cheeks. He goes back out and I find a small window looking out into the patio where I end up yelling directions to this Easter Egg Hunt for thongs. "There's another hanging from the ladder!" "One is in the bushes!" "Check on top of that shelf!" By this time I've forgotten all of the Spanish I know and I'm fumbling for words.

At the end of the whole thing, I'm laughing while counting sopping wet pairs of underwear on his glass counter above a display of bongs. He offers a plastic bag so I can carry them upstairs. I accept. He once again takes my panties, puts them in a bag and hands it to me along with a business card. On my way out, I promise to visit his shop another time... I never did.

- Kelsey. Follow this blog on Facebook!

Fried rice, hold the rice

It was 2009 and my first time in Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia. I had heard so much about how good nasi goreng is, so I couldn't wait to try it out.

One night, my Couchsurfing friends and I went to the market to eat dinner. I saw a food stall advertising nasi goreng, so I quickly went there and ordered. "I want nasi goreng, please," I said, "but without the rice." The vendor just stared at me, so after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, I just said never mind.

It was only later when I realized how bad it sounded; in effect, I ordered fried rice (which is what nasi goreng is) without the rice!

- Aleah of Solitary Wanderer. Follow her on Instagram!

Special delivery

I was flying from Knoxville, Tennessee to London, England for my first solo international trip. I navigated through airport security and stopped at the Starbucks for a Chai Tea to enjoy before my flight. I sat down near my gate. I set my wallet and tea on the side table. I took out my headphones and enjoyed my tea. My flight was called and I got boarded my plane.

As I made my plane swap in Atlanta, I turned on my phone. I had 5 missed calls from a number I didn’t recognize. I listened to my messages. “Jennifer. This is Robert at McGhee Tyson Airport. You left your wallet at the gate. I am sending it on the next flight from Knoxville to Atlanta. That flight lands at 12:25 pm at gate B23. Please meet it at the gate.” My heart drops and I start to panic. I search my bags and sure enough, no wallet. My passport, credit cards, and cash are all in that wallet. I couldn’t believe it. Thank you, Robert for looking my name up in your computer system and calling me about my wallet. Learned my lesson NEVER set anything down that is supposed to be in a bag, or so I thought. Don't ask about that incident in Colombia with my new DSLR camera.

- Jennifer of Made all the Difference. Follow her adventures on Facebook!

No visa, no big problem!

Before traveling to Nicaragua, I read a lot of articles about visa requirements, but most of them were from American and European travel blogs. I also checked out quite a few Filipino travellers who have been to Nicaragua, but I now know that they had a valid US / Europe / Australia Visa which I didn't have.

When I arrived at the Nicaraguan border Immigration, the officer asked for my USA visa which I told him I don't have and so he asked me where is my Nicaraguan visa from the Consulate and I told him I didn't need it based on what I had read online. The official didn’t want to deal with me and told me "NO, you can't enter the country and step aside." The bus driver heard it and told me that the bus was leaving anytime soon because the other passengers were waiting. I was frustrated, no internet and no one to call too… And then I started crying!

Luckily, a lady official saw me and came over to help, after many questions and phone calls she discovered that I could actually get a visa on arrival, which took more questions, stamps and about 1 hour more of waiting. While I know that if I hadn’t started crying that the woman may not have noticed me and come over to help, but I still felt embarrassed, both by the crying and by being the only one to be singled out and refused entry.

- Kach of Two Monkey's Travel. Follow their adventures on Facebook!

A calculated response

I was 17 when I did a road trip through California with my parents and six-year younger brother. We spent our final three days in a hotel in San Diego to relax a bit before flying home, but one of these days my parents had planned to visit the San Diego Zoo and they left my brother and me the choice to go with them or to stay at the hotel and order room service for breakfast. Not a tough choice. Room service it was!

We were sharing a room at that time and so when a hotel guy came to bring us breakfast and handed over the bill, it was my job to sign it and... decide on his tip. Now, I'm from Belgium and we don't have obligatory tips here. Whenever we're really pleased with a service, we'll tip, or when we get some change back we'll just leave some behind on the table. I knew it had to be like 10-15%, but because of the stress (and the fact that the hotel guy was pretty cute), mathematics seemed like a concept I hadn't heard of yet.

So I... took out my cell phone to use the calculator on it to figure out was his tip was supposed to be! I quickly filled in the amount and signed the bill, blushing from my cheeks until behind my ears.

- Sofie of Wonderful Wanderings. Follow her adventures on Facebook!

Watch your step

Jen and I recently found ourselves at the Rufeng Night Market in Kaohsiung, Taiwan. Taiwan has some amazing night markets that are a mix of food, clothes and carnival games.

I was looking at a clothing booth, stepped closer, my large, women's 9.5 foot hit the pole supporting the clothing display and down it all came crashing.

I felt terrible as an array of t-shirts plummeted to the ground. "Watch your step" has never carried so much meaning.

- Kiki of Wanderlust Explorers. Follow them on Facebook!

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