"Talents are best nurtured in solitude, but character is best formed in the stormy billows of the world."

Hey people,

So while I’ve been sitting here trying to do work (and in some part succeeding, in some part not) I’ve been thinking quite a bit about what it that constitutes “character” in a person, whether it be strength of character or weakness, and just about the mentality that some people have. This may well be a bit of a rambling post, and I want to start off by saying- I am in no way a perfect person. I make mistakes all the time, I say the wrong thing, I do the wrong thing, and sometimes I don’t like to admit it. But in the end, I like to think that I admit, and I take responsibility for my words and for my actions.

So, to begin. This thinking about character and mentality has somewhat come from my experiences here. Not all, but sometimes I have to think really hard since being here. When I came here, I knew that it would be in some way like I was starting university all over again. Of course, I was coming to a whole new university, in a completely different country, and there would be new people. I was terrified. After two years at my English university, I finally felt settled. I had friends there, but I also had a social group at home. I had a very active social life, and I loved (and still do love) my friends. I felt comfortable. I was starting over completely.

Terrifying. Having been here for three months today, I do feel settled. I have an active social life. But, do I have close friends? I would have to say- not many at all. There are some people here that I would consider friends, and I talk to them a lot and tell them things. But closeness takes time.

There are also those people here who I cannot for the life of me figure out. I admit that I rely a lot on my first impression of people, which can often be to my disadvantage- I guess you could say that I judge very quickly, and sometimes, I find that I am COMPLETELY wrong with what I thought about someone. I may think that they are an idiot when I first meet them, and then find that actually, they are nice, funny, someone I want to be around. (For the record, people when they first meet me often think that I think that I am always right, or that I am “up myself”, which couldn’t be further from the truth). So I know that first impressions don’t always count.

But, saying that, there is something to be said for how someone behaves when you first meet them, or for what you think initially. There have been a couple of people here who at first, I didn’t like. Then, gradually, I start to like them and tell myself, you were completely wrong about them. But then, as it turns out, I was right the first time. That is not to say that I am hugely surprised, and I don’t feel I have lost any great friends in this way. It just reinforces the feeling that I should trust my gut.

There are some people who I have met who I just cannot understand why they behave the way they do. The gossip, for example. This as a Erasmus year, for some reason means that people feel that they can go crazy, and act out way beyond their boundaries that they would have in their home countries, and for whatever it is ok. But what I seem to notice is that people are WAY more interested in what you do here than when they are at home. So the fact that people do more “scandalous” things, and that people are more likely to know and talk about it, equals a disaster for some people. Hell, you don’t even have to do anything and you get gossiped about. I’ve been told that I did something the other night that I DID NOT do. It’s quite amazing to be told you did something you didn’t know you did when you were fully conscious. Deary me!

I’ve been told that this isn’t actually gossip, but it’s people who are immature and don’t think about what they say. Hmm’k. If you are immature, that means you have a REASON for why you act the way you do- but i have never heard “immature” as a character flaw being used in a court of law, nor does it get you off in any normal everyday situations.

I was asked last night, “Surely you did some things like that when you were young and immature?” And honestly, I don’t think I have gone round saying things that really aren’t true. I have never, no matter what anyone believes, spread rumours about people. I am 20 years old, one of the youngest here in fact, and I feel much more like an adult than the way a lot of people act here.

Apparently it’s because people on the continent don’t tend to live outside of mummy and daddy’s house until they leave university, and this is the first time they have been away from home. Ok, so I can kind of understand that. But do you not learn any kind of maturity whilst you are living with your parents? Do they not teach you anything?

I just get frustrated. I feel like I have been through a lot in my life, and although in no way has my life been harder than anyone else’s, my life has been a challenge for me, which I have so far overcome. Last year, something major happened to me, and it affected everyone around me in my life. When it first happened, I really didn’t know how I was going to feel normal again. My mum’s favourite saying is, “this too shall pass”, but at that point in time I didn’t see how it was going to. I think that was one of the biggest things I have had to overcome. But now, more than a year on, I can look back on it and think, “I have properly moved on.” I don’t know if I can say I am over it, because some things are so major that there will be a tiny scar left forever, but as long as the scar is healed- you can still see it, but only the faint memory.

I don’t think my point here is that clear. What I think I feel about something like this is that, sometimes I feel that people haven’t really been through a lot. Lucky them! Seriously, to lead a charmed life must be amazing. But I think sometimes people need some kind of hardship to make them think, “Ok, I’m going to be a better person now.”

I by no means whish ill on ANYONE. No one should have to go through major stuff. But I think life is, for many people, a series of challenges that you must overcome, and when you come out the end of every challenge, you come out a little bruised and scared, but you eventually become a much better person.

I may look back at this post in 5 years and think, “Mate, I was an ARSE back then!” And that’s ok. Because as life goes forward, so do I.

:D

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming swimming swimming (or running)...

Hey people,

So as some/most/all of you know, I’m a runner. Some people may call it jogging, but I don’t like that verb. Runner sounds far more impressive. And, to be honest, I don’t really jog, I go a bit faster than a “jog”. There is my justification.

Anyway. I’ve been “running” on and off for about 4 years now, more off in the past year or so, but I was a very regular runner for a long time, and now I am starting to rekindle my love of it.

I remember when I first started properly. I was 15, school had just finished, and I was trying to find things to do to pass the summer holidays before college. I’d gone for a couple of runs through the local park, but I could literally only manage a couple of minutes before I felt sick, and I would get these really intense headaches when I got home because I wasn’t used to the adrenaline of exercise. I wasn’t fat, certainly not overweight, but after dancing from when I was 4 until I was 14, I pretty much just stopped doing anything whatsoever apart from walking. For the most part, I was very lazy. I decided to try and get fit.

So, during that summer, I went running, and gradually (and I mean, very gradually) built up my stamina. It didn’t help that at that point I was buying cheapo trainers, and in due course I hurt my knee, which happened on a regular basis until I spoke to someone who told me about a shop where they sell PROPER sport shoes. They put you on a treadmill, you try out the trainers, the fit, and it means you’re far less likely to damage yourself through being unsupported.

I think I’m waffling.

So, eventually over the course of a couple of years, I built my stamina up to the point where I was doing about 7 miles each run, which took me about 70 minutes (so I was running about 6 miles an hour, for a short girl, not that bad, right!?) At that time I had very poor body image, and I got very skinny what with running so much and not eating as much as I should have done.

Then I went to university, and although I was still running, I gradually loosened my self-control, ate (and drank) a lot more, and put on some weight. Due to work, going out, and being lazy, I stopped running so far, and that gradually reduced to not running as much either. I was still running, but I didn’t feel the same motivation every time where I WANTED to run.

I’m now in my third year of university, and although i have been on runs on and off since that first year of university, I’ve decided that i am going to get properly back into it. And there’s a couple of reasons why.

Firstly, I really do adore running, even if I don’t go as often as I should do (and I say “should”, just because there may be a preconception where runners go running every day, when in reality, it’s actually better if you don’t). I love the adrenaline rush you get during, but especially after, a run, and I love how the time just passes. You’ll be at one part of your run, and it almost feels like you take a breath, and you’ve run 3 miles. It’s an amazing feeling. Sometimes it really does feel like you’re just floating. Yeah, running can be hard work, but it’s SO worth it.

I’m an outdoor runner. And this is really the second best reason why I love running. When you go running outside, no matter what the weather is, it just feels good. Especially when you find some really nice places to run through. Nice may not be the same for everyone. I’m perfectly happy to run along arterial roads, through housing estates, through town centres. To be honest, some of the best places I have run have been down roads with REALLY fancy houses, especially at Christmas time when they have all their nice lights and decorations up. I don’t really understand people that only run on treadmills- I personally can’t do it because I feel restricted, and I end up getting stitches very early on in the run, when ordinarily I don’t get stitches. Whatever works for you I guess!

I love running at sunset- to leave the house and it be evening, and, having run through the sunset, to return when it’s dark, it just feels so good. And I can’t even begin to describe why.

Living in Toledo now, I have FINALLY discovered the track where everyone tells me is really good to run- alongside the River Tajo. Luckily it’s not that far from my flat, and I go about 3 times a week at the moment. I’m running about 20 minutes continuously, and although that is not as impressive as my longest runs, for where I was, I’m really happy with the pace I’m at. I’ve been doing it for about 3 weeks now, and I’m already so pleased with my progress. It’s a beautiful track, and it’s really quite long (I haven’t quite gotten to the end yet, I’m not sure where it comes out, and how I would get back to my flat!), it has hills and the ground is flat. It’s perfect.

I’m lucky in that, as I’ve been a dancer and have been running for a few years now, it only takes me a little time for my muscles to come back to ease the running process. I can really just run for a couple of times a week, for a couple of weeks, and for whatever reason, my legs just snap back into shape. The rest of me takes a little more time, but that’s ok.

I’m not running now to lose weight, but to feel fit and strong again feels so amazing. Toledo seems like a city of runners, any time of day, wherever I am, even in the streets with cobbles, there will be someone running. And that really makes me happy. Whenever I see someone running, wherever I am, I actually feel jealous, as well as happy. I wish I was running at that moment in time. I want to know what their route is. I’m not sure if that’s a normal reaction.

But hey, I’m a runner!

:D

The only universal sign seems to be to flip someone off...

Hey people,

So I’ve been thinking a bit about hand gestures. Growing up only in England, I would never have imagined that any hand gestures I did were solely a cultural thing. But going abroad, and learning about different cultures and languages, I learn more and more that hand gestures, amongst other things, are almost as important as language when it comes to understanding.

A minor one, which occurred to me when I was walking to the shop today, was that when you cross a road in England, and a car stops to let you cross, you put your hand up, palm forward, to show your thanks. (Well, I do it at zebra-crossings too, although I’m constantly told I needn’t) It’s rude if you don’t do it in England. But today, I went to cross, the car was there so I stopped, and it let me cross. Instinctively, I put my hand up, and the driver stares at me as if I’d gone to throw a brick through his windscreen. Now, I don’t know if you’re “supposed” to do it here, and no one does, or if it’s just something that no one does here. But I do it EVERY SINGLE TIME purely because I do it every day in England. Things like that I can’t stop myself from doing.

A more serious one, and I say serious just because it gets me every time, is the “two fingers in a V” sign. Ya know, like this:

(yes, I did it the wrong way, I was supposed to be Chinese and epically failed at the V sign Asians make).

But anyway. It shocks me whenever I see someone doing that to me. Not just the Spanish, but other nationalities too. The first time it happened to me was when I was working in Barcelona; I was at a family meal with a family friend, who was sitting opposite me. She was talking about two boys, and to demonstrate that there were “two” she did that sign to me. I was visibly shocked, and I think I scared her for a minute, but then she carried on as if nothing had happened. Why did I feel so offended? It took me about 5 minutes to realise exactly why it wouldn’t even occur to them to think that this sign would offend me.

I’m a bit shaky on the details, but basically there was a war/battle between the English and French; when the French captured the English, they would cut off the two first fingers on one hand, so that they were unable to pull the triggers on their rifles. And, as such, whenever the English then saw the French, they would stick their two fingers up at them, to show them that they still had their fingers, and could therefore still shoot them.

I’m not sure how ingrained this is in a lot of English people, but it is something that I was taught is very offensive, and it’s just something that you don’t do. But I’ve had it done to me MANY times since I’ve been here, and although every time it shocks me a little, every time I get a little bit more used to it.

English sensibilities these days...I feel so conservative!

UPDATE: My mother informs me that I am completely wrong, and it was a lot earlier than when they had rifles, it was actually to do with archers and using their bows. So there you go, it's even deeper ingrained than I first thought!

Just....amazing.

Hey people,

I thought that this time round I would do a more personal blog. By personal, I don’t mean I shall be divulging any of my deep dark secrets, so if that’s what you’re after, I’m afraid you will be disappointed.

But anyway. I got back into Toledo about 4 hours at the time of writing this, and I’m exhausted, but I think I’ve got so much adrenaline running through my veins at this moment in time that I won’t sleep that much, if at all tonight. The reason for this? I went back to England on Thursday, after 10 weeks of being out of the country, of not seeing my family and friends, and generally just being an English person. Whenever people ask me how it was, I answer with one word, and the same word every time- AMAZING!

As far as my memory goes back (and as I do drink on the odd occasion, my memory isn’t quite what it used to be) it was one of the best weekends I’ve ever had. It was certainly one of the most intense, and definitely one of the most emotional. I spent a lot of Sunday crying, happy crying, sad crying- bitter-sweet crying. I also cried this morning at the airport as my mum waved me away, and I also cried a little in the departure lounge.

This may sound like it’s because I’m unhappy in Spain. Far from it. I’m not quite sure why I was so emotional, but it just seemed to me that I realised just how lucky I was, and how much I have...I realised how much I love my family, my friends, the little jokes you have with friends, and just how much people love and care about you, and how much you love and care about them. But then, I am also a strong enough person that I can move abroad, I can be out here, in another culture and using another language, and survive...

I spent almost half my time with my family in Essex, and then the other half with my friends in Kent where I normally study. Both halves were equally as amazing. In Essex, I had a meal cooked for me, I watched tv with my mum like the good old days, and I picked my brother up from school and picked him up like I used to. In Canterbury, I went out with my friends, I spent an hour in a club toilet having a heart-to-heart, and I laughed and talked about what had happened the night before. Just like old times. (Well, apart from the toilet thing, that is a unique thing which has never, and probably never will, happen again.) But also, and I don’t want to talk about specific people on here, but this was quite a major reason why I was so emotional- I made peace with someone in my life who was a major part of it, and with whom my relationship rapidly fell apart. That felt like a massive relief. And although I am still quite confused about that whole part of my life at the moment, with time, I know I will make sense of it...

I’m starting to realise that whatever happens in life, be it good or bad, eventually everything just becomes memories: part of the past, things that you can tell as anecdotes, or use as a warning of what to do in the future. I have a habit of building things up in my head, things that I think are gonna be very hard or that I just don’t want to do, and I picture them as “obstacles” that I have to get over that day or that week. Once I’m over that obstacle, I feel fine. But it’s the build-up of having to face that obstacle which gets me every time.

The most recent example is this: I was SURE that using the metro in Madrid to get to the airport was going to be THE WORST THING EVER. I was sure that I’d get to the first train station, and not be able to find any information, not know where to go, what to do, and I’d get the wrong trains and miss my plane. I don’t know if it’s because I think I am a moron (which I can be sometimes) or I think that the public bodies make these things as awkward as possible so no one can use them (because that would be so good for them, right?), but I was certain this was going to end badly. What happened? I got to the airport on time, with no problems whatsoever. I found the original train station, I bought my ticket, I found all the right platforms, and I got to the airport in quicker time than the website told me I would.

What is the point to my rambling? Well, I guess it’s that I’m beginning to learn that actually, these things are not that hard- you have to trust in yourself that you WILL be able to cope, that building things up is not worth it (ever), and even if it did go wrong? You can laugh about it later. It’s an EXPERIENCE.

That’s all that life is at the end of the day. It’s a book that every single day, you fill up of your habits, your actions, your thoughts, your feelings, your interactions with others- your EXPERIENCE. I don’t quite know what happens with your book when you kick the bucket, that’s a whole different blog post. But I do know, that this weekend has shown me an awful lot.

Even if it's only that I can find my way through Madrid’s Metro system and survive ;)

"I'll have another pink five hundred dollar bill please..."

Hey people,

There’s something about the euro that I’m never going to get used to. This is the second time I’ve lived in Spain for a significant amount of time (although, admittedly living in Toledo for a year does trump living in Barcelona for two months), and I’m yet to understand exactly what the coins are all about.

I’m English. I LOVE my currency. And that’s not even me being pretentious, I just really love using the pound. Quid, squid, pound, fiver, tenner, whatever you want to call it, I love it. I like how our coins are different shaped so you actually know what they hell they are. I know what a fifty-pence piece feels like, I know what is a pound coin, and the ever elusive two pound coin (still not very common I believe? Not in my experience anyway). The five pence, the penny, the two pence, they are all DIFFERENT. I like the queen on the back, I like the way her crown is different depending on what year coin you have. There have been a lot of discussions of the UK getting the Euro. Erm. ARE YOU CRAZY!? Sterling for me is part of the feeling of being British, English, whatever. I like it. As much as we’re a part of the Euro, I’m in the school of thought that we’re not properly Europeans, we are different, we’re not even on the same continent for god’s sake. We’re as much Europeans as the Turkish are.

I don’t know how common my opinion is on the European Union. I know when I speak to Erasmus students here (many of whom are from countries within the EU) they are quite shocked. But I don’t really see that we’re that European. When people ask me what I am, I am first of all, English. Then, I’m British, and very reluctantly I call myself European. I know we benefit from some parts of the EU, and I’m not going to go on a BNP rampage of, “We should get out of the EU and start kicking out anyone who wasn’t born in England and whose family is nothing other than English!” But I don’t feel that culturally, we gain that much from calling ourselves Europeans. Look at the way our Prime Ministers of late have bent over backwards for the Presidents of the US, I think that shows quite how much we feel part of the EU. We’re not even one of the bigger players. On paper, the UK rates quite high, but what power do we actually have? If France and Germany gang up against us on any kind of issue, that’s it for our opinion.

But anyway. The currency. There have been talks of introducing the Euro in England. Then there has been the consequent outrage. And I agree.

I, for one, would be screwed if they brought in the Euro. I shall tell you why.

I cannot get used to any of the coinage. Whenever I pay for anything, I still have to stare at the coins for about 5 minutes before I realise what it is, what it means, and how much I’m actually paying. There’s only so many times you can hand over a twenty euro note and hope that it covers it.

All the coins are the same shape- round. The two-euro is ever so slightly bigger than the one euro. Then the one cent, ok, it’s small. But the two cent and the five cent are basically the same size. The ten and the twenty cents are akin to the one and two cents prospectively. How am I supposed to live like this!?

That’s not even mentioning the paper money. They’re so bright and colourful I feel like I’m paying with monopoly money. Half the time when I pay for things I don’t even feel like I’m handing over money, it’s like I’m not actually paying anything. This could be dangerous. I’m not careless with money, but my gosh, I feel like I’m in a game! A game I’m very sure I’m going to lose....

:D

UPDATE: Apparently, my attitude towards the "England not being European" thing is a stereotypical English rant...oh well....I guess I'll have to be a stereotype for once!

Hasta pronto...

Ok, so I know I haven't had the blog for very long, and I feel cheeky already taking a break. But I get the feeling it's going to be a while until I get the inspiration to write another post, and I'm also not having the most amazing time emotionally.
So, I shall leave it for a while until I am feeling better :)I also have lots of work to do before I go back to England :)
Hasta luego!
Rach