The last time I wrote I was still enjoying springtime in Paris. Since then I've moved across the Atlantic Ocean back to Connecticut, then from home to a private school in Maryland, and back home again. In just a few weeks I'll be packing up yet again to move back to school for just one more year until I, well, go somewhere else. I must say, I've come to think of it as normal to move around a lot.
I confess—I’m no longer “The Foreigner”. It has been over two months since I landed on my native soil, yet I'm not done recounting my adventures. Although my first few weeks at home-- on the couch, working out, visiting friends, and going out for good food--weren't so busy that I couldn't have stolen a moment to reconnect with all of you, I couldn't motivate myself to put fingers to keyboard and unveil my travels. When I was finally ready, I found that my blog (along with several other commonplace websites) were blocked at the strict, religious private school where I spent the past six weeks. Although I didn't appreciate the internet restrictions, I found that the program for foreigners coming to the U.S. to learn English was the perfect end to my year of language study. Having spent the entire year under some kind of language pledge, it was refreshing that the pledge was finally in my native tongue. I was no longer the foreigner--but I was working with a 100 of them. It was pretty interesting being on the other side.
And what of my big spring break? While other college kids may have been partying down in Cancun (is that still a thing?), or just hangin’ at the beach with friends and some beer, burned to a crisp, I decided to spend it a little differently. I was still in blazing heat, but I was closer to the desert than the ocean for at least part of my trip.
Having done a bit of nosing around, I realized early on in the semester that most of the people I would want to travel with were going to places I either didn’t feel a pressing need to see, or places I had already seen. I also figured that right around spring break I would want to see my family (which I was quite right about judging by my Supersized McDonalds Meltdown). We had already done a family trip to Paris, so I decided to meet my parents in a different country so everyone could get to see something new. Since I’ve wanted to go to Spain for a while, my parents decided to meet me in Barcelona, where we would spend a few days before heading to Madrid. For week two of my two-week break I had a little something different planned. After some discussion, my sister, Stephanie, chose Morocco for us, which I was quite excited about having been interested in the country ever since I found out it's the birthplace of one of my favorite French teachers. Week one would be Spanish tapas and sangria with Mom and Dad, then Steph would fly to Madrid to pick me up (and wave goodbye to our parents who would fly home) to head over to Fes and Marrakech for chicken tangine and mint tea. It turns out that even the best laid out plans could be disrupted by, say, the eruption of a massive volcano that creates an enormous ash cloud over most of Western Europe. But more on that later...
I confess—I’m no longer “The Foreigner”. It has been over two months since I landed on my native soil, yet I'm not done recounting my adventures. Although my first few weeks at home-- on the couch, working out, visiting friends, and going out for good food--weren't so busy that I couldn't have stolen a moment to reconnect with all of you, I couldn't motivate myself to put fingers to keyboard and unveil my travels. When I was finally ready, I found that my blog (along with several other commonplace websites) were blocked at the strict, religious private school where I spent the past six weeks. Although I didn't appreciate the internet restrictions, I found that the program for foreigners coming to the U.S. to learn English was the perfect end to my year of language study. Having spent the entire year under some kind of language pledge, it was refreshing that the pledge was finally in my native tongue. I was no longer the foreigner--but I was working with a 100 of them. It was pretty interesting being on the other side.
And what of my big spring break? While other college kids may have been partying down in Cancun (is that still a thing?), or just hangin’ at the beach with friends and some beer, burned to a crisp, I decided to spend it a little differently. I was still in blazing heat, but I was closer to the desert than the ocean for at least part of my trip.
Having done a bit of nosing around, I realized early on in the semester that most of the people I would want to travel with were going to places I either didn’t feel a pressing need to see, or places I had already seen. I also figured that right around spring break I would want to see my family (which I was quite right about judging by my Supersized McDonalds Meltdown). We had already done a family trip to Paris, so I decided to meet my parents in a different country so everyone could get to see something new. Since I’ve wanted to go to Spain for a while, my parents decided to meet me in Barcelona, where we would spend a few days before heading to Madrid. For week two of my two-week break I had a little something different planned. After some discussion, my sister, Stephanie, chose Morocco for us, which I was quite excited about having been interested in the country ever since I found out it's the birthplace of one of my favorite French teachers. Week one would be Spanish tapas and sangria with Mom and Dad, then Steph would fly to Madrid to pick me up (and wave goodbye to our parents who would fly home) to head over to Fes and Marrakech for chicken tangine and mint tea. It turns out that even the best laid out plans could be disrupted by, say, the eruption of a massive volcano that creates an enormous ash cloud over most of Western Europe. But more on that later...