* Sunkissed in Espana *

Hola Amigos,

YES. I know these are like reading novels! But bare with me. And if you only want to read a snippet, I´d skip to the last several paragraphs...

This past week I was in Madrid and Barcelona, and....wait. Did you see that?....Yup, yup that would be Melissa leaving her comfort zone. Long gone are the English-speaking lads of Dublin and London, that is for sure.

Let me just start by saying, I have no clue who convinced me that most people in Madrid speak English, but whoever it was, you were LYING! I didn´t expect people to be passing me and saying "Good day, Madame" while tipping their hat, but boy....during my 3 days in Madrid, I don´t think I met a single local who spoke English. Let´s just say I had to brush up on my 7th grade Espanol skills reeeaaal fast.

When I first arrived in Madrid, I thought I knew where I was going, but got on a few wrong trains. When I asked for directions, the woman at the station said, "Just look up and you´ll see the signs." I was relieved when I made it to my hostel an hour and a half later. Oh, wait...nope...scratch that. I was at the wrong hostel (apparently there are two hostels with the same name in Madrid- smart, right?). So when I asked for directions to the place I was actually staying, guess what the guy said?: "Just look up, you´ll see a sign". What is it with people here and looking up for everything? Why don´t they just put the signs on the ground and make everyone´s life easier?!

When I finally got to my hostel, I was feeling a little exhausted from the flight, so I just dropped my stuff and walked around to find some dinner. After getting lost for the 4th time that day, I finally settled down in a small carneceria where - you guessed it - no one spoke English. I don´t think I detest anything more than completely giving myself away as a foreigner, but as I stumbled over my Spanglish words, I knew I was being punished for not taking foreign language class seriously enough all those years. However, the waiter was patient with me and even though I was making a fool of myself and probably making no sense at all, he offered me cappuccino on the house as I was about to leave. Just goes to show that you are rewarded with kindness when you try to adapt to the culture you are in instead of expecting it to adapt to you (it never does anyway).

Though Madrid hasn´t been my favorite place thus far, I did thoroughly enjoy the sights. If anyone finds their way out to the center of Spain, be sure to check out the Museo del Prado and Palacio Real- a huge building with over 1,000 rooms! There was a garden right next to it, and I sat with a much needed liter of water to watch the sun set over Madrid...breathtaking. I met a girl from Madagascar in my hostel that night, and we decided to go to a few museums the next day. It was a blast, but let´s just say my Madagascee isn´t up to par- nor was her English...so we had a little bit of difficulty. But, she was so nice and it was nice to have company nonetheless.

As I walked around a few other parts of Madrid later that second day, I couldn´t help but think about how alone I felt. It was the first time on the trip that I didn´t know the language, felt largely disconnected from the culture, and didn´t have a good friend around. But I kid you not...just as I thought that, I looked up (shocker) and the wall of the building next to me literally said, "No estas sola." You can´t tell me something like that is a coincidence. Very strange, but warming...I felt uplifted in an instant. I ended the day with the best chocolate con churros I´ve ever had in my life at a chocolateria nearby. (Yes, they literally have chocolaterias!) As I sat on the porch in my room for what must have been an eternity, I thought to myself, "This is so weird. It´ll be the first place I´ve gone where I didn´t go out at night." Of course, just as I said that, my Aussie roommate walked in and practically the first thing out of my mouth was, "Wanna do a bar crawl with me tomorrow?!?" And he´s awesome, so obviously he said yes. hahaha...So much for not going out.

I was feeling a little restless in the bustling city, so during my final day in Madrid, I took a local bus out an hour or so to the hill town of Toledo. Holy smokes. I got there and it was one of the most gorgeous sights I have ever seen in my life. It is exactly how you picture Spain- the sun shining down on your face as you wander aimlessly down alleys that are four feet wide; listening to the natives speak impressively fast in their native tongues; stumbling upon gorgeous churches that are more than 1,000 years old. My day in Toledo was one of the most fabulous days of this trip so far.

I got hungry and was tempted to eat at the bustling, touristy center, but I decided against it and continued on for a place more out of the way. Just as I reached the back side of the hill an hour or so later, I was going to turn back when something in me said to go up just one more hill. I did, and it was then that I found a hidden cafe. Perfect! After looking at a menu with pictures of pizza and paella, I closed the menu and - in decent Spanish!- I kindly asked if they had tortilla espanol, which wasn´t on the menu. The waiter looked at me with a slight smile as though he was impressed with me for ordering something off the menu too, and he brought me back the most delicious tortilla espanol I have ever feasted on.....muy delicioso. By the end of my meal, I knew the waiter was the one I was supposed to ask my life advice question to, so I proceeded in my awful Spanish again. He kept pointing to things on the map because I think he assumed I wanted advice on where to go in Toledo. But, I finally said, "No, no! quiero consejo por la vida buena...en general." He pointed to his heart and I knew he understood. He wrote something down quickly in Spanish, and I obviously broke out the pocket dictionary the minute I left the restaurant so I could translate it. He wrote, "Be a good person, and love as much as you can." I was wrong in the last e-mail when I said the advice couldn´t get better. It can.

As I was walking back to catch the bus to Madrid, I stumbled upon a corner with no tourists in sight...and I was presented with the most beautiful view of Toledo that there could possibly be. I sat there for a minute to take it all in, and I felt like, in that moment, the view was all mine. It was astounding, and incredibly moving. But I too had to get moving, and when I returned to Madrid, I lived it up like only the Spanish know how to do! As a friend I met from Madrid says, " Vive la buena vida! Ole!" Unfortunately, I realized that I lived it up a little too much when I woke up at 6:30 am with the worst headache of my life after 1.5 hours of sleep. Luckily, I slept the entire way to Barcelona, and woke up feeling much better.

I fell in love with Dublin for the people. But, I fell in love with Barcelona for the aesthetics and the culture. I don´t exactly know what I was expecting when I got here, but I was pleasantly surprised. For one thing, I didn´t get lost! For another, my hostel is awesome. It´s in an old apartment building run by 20-somethings, and when they feel like going out for the night, they just give everyone their own set of keys so they don´t have to ring people in at 3 am. After a delightfully slow afternoon, I met up with Grant and Max, two buddies from Hamilton. It was so nice to see familiar faces in unfamiliar territory. After going out for tapas, we went to some Irish pub (counterintuitive, I know, but yet another sign that I should move to Dublin!) to watch the semi-final game between Espana y Russia. After Spain won 3-0, the place went absolutely nuts, and I loved it. And I thought the Super Bowl was crazy! I really wish people were that passionate about sports back home. I can´t even imagine what it´ll be like here if they win the finals tomorrow night.

While at the pub, we met two really nice girls from Atlanta, and we all decided to go for a stroll down the beach and get food in La Barceloneta. The best part of the night had to have been when Grant was trying to explain to me as we walked down Las Ramblas (think: Times Square in the early 90s, but longer and less lit up) how crazy that area was: " I swear, people here just hand you everything.....pamphlets, brochures, papers....sex." hahahaha WHAT??? Very funny stuff, and it winded up being a great night, spent with new and old friends alike. It definitely got me out of my little funk from not being able to communicate that well in Madrid. Thanks to Grant especially for falling for my 5 year old jokes. (Why do your hands smell like grapes?) haha.

The next couple of days were spent meandering around Barca, and the highlights were seeing:

1. La Sagrada Familia, and other astounding works by the famous architect Gaudi....not that much catches my eye in terms of art, but I am absolutely in awe of Gaudi´s incredible work. The man was a genius. A very, very deep individual.

2. Hanging out at the beach and the sun actually being strong enough to get me tan in ONE hour!

3. More new friends, more Sangria

4. Cooking probably the first meal that I actually ate and said, " I can´t believe I actually made something that edible" (It was whole wheat pasta with bolognese sauce, melted cheese and sauteed fresh peppers...mmmm)

and 5. The Picasso Museum.

...Now, ok. I have to be honest. I am really not a museum person. Some people can look at a painting for hours and see 20,000 different things in it. I on the other hand look at a painting for an average of 30 seconds and go, "Oooooooo, pretty colors." So fine, in that way I am not the most artistically cultured individual. But, I really, really loved this museum.

First of all, I had no idea Picasso did so many different kinds of artwork- sketches, pottery, sculptures. And even among the paintings, there were the blue and pink periods, cubism, classicism, surrealism. It´s interesting that he was known for a select number of works. Though these are astounding and famous paintings in their own right, after seeing everything else Picasso did, I realized that there was so much more to who he was as an artist- and thus, an individual. It was interesting to see the museum laid out by each year in his life....to see how his style changed, progressed, and was influenced year by year.

One of his collections is called "Las Meninas". When looking at this particular section of the museum, I was drawn to one particular painting- probably the only black and white one that I had seen that day. I wondered to myself, " What exactly was Picasso thinking when he created this? Was this scene that he drew real, or did he make it up out of thin air? Isn´t it possible that he just drew without any purpose at all, just using whatever colors and shapes struck him that day?" But then, I overheard a guide saying (In English, miraculously), "Picasso looked at a lot of other famous works at the time, especially in Paris and Madrid. One day he thought to himself, ´Wouldn´t it be interesting if I took these famous paintings and moved the people, lighting, and objects around?´And that´s exactly what he did."

Apparently, that black and white painting I had been looking at was a rearranged version of a famous piece done by Velazquez, which I had seen just days earlier at the Museo del Prado in Madrid! Picasso took that painting, and essentially created something completely different and unrecognizable from the original. Amazing.

The Picasso Museum depicted the work and life of one remarkable individual. However, what the museum symbolized for me was life as a whole, as we all come to experience it. Like Picasso, people come to know us for certain key decisions we make in life...where to go to college, when and why to take time off once we get there, how we speak, the jobs we take, the friends we make. But very rarely are we just the people others recognize us as. Other people´s perceptions of who we are...that's only one layer of us. If we take time to understand the other pieces of who people are, only then can we fully appreciate them.

Further, the even harder thing is not letting ourselves be defined by the perspectives of others about who we are. That´s what Picasso did with the Las Meninas series. He drew his own perspective of the greatest works of art from the past three centuries. We, too, can all be looking at the same thing but experiencing it in an entirely different way from the person standing next to us.

Picasso once said, " If you already know exactly what you are going to do, then what´s the point in doing it?" How true that is. The excitement in life- and particularly on this trip so far, for me personally- has come from putting the directions and the maps away, traveling down the roads that are appealing at that particular moment, and stopping every so often to take it all in...wherever you may be standing.

Thinking back, I realize...of course Picasso was painting with a purpose. You don´t become a world famous artist by painting without it. But that is the interesting thing. The challenge is living a purpose-driven life, but being ok with not knowing exactly how to get to where you want to be all the time...

After all, we have to be lost in order to find our way.

...And for the moments when we are genuinely lost? I guess the best thing I´ve learned to do at those points is simply to look up.



Love life!,

Melissa




Observations:

1. They make out a lot in Spain. No joke, it´s borderline disgusting. I was at a park and I swear everyone there was swapping spit except for me.

2. I can get away with being a local here, since I look pseudo- Spanish. But the minute I open my mouth to speak...forget about it.

3. Don´t expect people in Madrid to speak English or understand it. They don´t, at least not in my experience.

4. When in Barcelona, don´t make the mistake of calling them Spanish...they are CATALAN. Oh, and I couldn´t for the life of me understand why no one was getting all the Spanish I worked so hard to learn in Madrid. Ohhhh, riiiiiight. They speak a different language there...that explains things.

5. People told me to be afraid of being in Barcelona alone. Honestly, I felt way safer here than in Madrid. Just goes to show you that you´ve gotta have your wits about you, but still go into new cultures unafraid.

6. Gaudi was the man.

7. Picasso was, too!

8. The women on the beach in Barca often go topless, and it´s totally normal. A little awkward, but it's nice that they are so confident.

9. I think I was Spanish in another life. They take siestas and don´t go out until 2 am! Finally, my slepping habits were considered normal.



Trip Stats:

Days: 12

Roommates: 25

Gelato Cones Consumed (Had to change the PB & J, since apparently they don´t even sell that over here in Europe! ): 4

Local Life Lesson:
"Always try your best" ... Words of wisdom from a Catalan chef that I met in Barcelona

Jukebox: " All my insecurities try to run my destiny, I can make or break it if I choose" - Perfect Girl, Sarah McLachlan

Random Thought: Isn´t it funny that when you are by yourself when you are surrounded by others in a crowded city you feel so alone, but when you are by yourself in an empty town, you feel at peace?

Quotables:

" No entiendo" - The two words I´ve probably uttered the most in the past 5 days.¨

" You know you want to shimmer, you know you want to tingle!" hahahaha.....you know who you are. I´m buying you lipgloss for Christmas.


Overheard:

I´m not even gonna bother sharing a quote I overheard. Let me just tell you about what I oversaw: A 70-year old man with about 57 tattoos walking butt-naked down Las Ramblas, the most crowded, touristy street in Barcelona. There are no words.

London Calling

Helloooooo,

My second stop after Dublin was London, and I have been here for the last 3 days visiting my good buddy, Eric Kuhn. The London adventures, however, started in Dublin. When I was at the airport waiting for my flight, I was sitting on the floor because all of the chairs were taken. So, of all the floor space, guess who comes and decides to sit right next to me? Some bloke with a Red Sox sweatshirt on! Bloody hell!!! (haha...I´ve been waiting a very long time to have a legitimate reason to use British terminology, so this e-mail update will be full of it =)). I´m thinking to myself, "Even on another continent, I can´t get away from the massholes" (Sorry Bethoney, you know it´s true - you damn people are everywhere).

So, I just have to ask if he´s from Mass because I hadn´t heard an American accent in a while and I was feeling a little in withdrawl. But I kind of figured he wasn´t when he responded in an Irish brogue....which makes it even worse that he´s a Red Sox fan, by the way. We got to talking, and apparently he lived in Cape Cod for a summer to travel a bit and have a new experience for the summer when he was a teen. Just a thought: Why don´t more American kids have the courage to wake up one day and say, "Hey! I feel like living in Ireland, so I´m going to plan a trip and figure out how to go". That really should happen more often, I feel. So anyways, I am liking this guy already. We talked for 30 minutes about what it´s like to go to University in Ireland as well as the states; baseball banter, etc. And we winded up sitting next to each other on the plane, so we spent the whole flight talking about all of our travel experiences and interests, and it was real great to hear from a guy who was actually from Dublin for such an extensive period of time.

As we were getting off the plane in London, he waited with me for my bags and made sure I got on my train ok (this is what I mean about the niceness of the Irish people.) Even though I asked that girl for life advice a few days earlier, I just had to ask him as well. He said, "Never stop traveling, it will help you grow!" And the advice just doesn´t get better than that. It´s going be hard to top the responses I´ve been getting so far. As we were walking to the train, he was telling me how all of his friends in Cape Cod call him a "potato" because of his Irish descent. And I, being the five-year-old that I am, say: "Oh my gosh...
You´re a Mass Potato!" He gave me a genuine laugh, and I automatically knew I had to keep in touch with this guy for being so kind as to laugh at my non-funny jokes. As I got on the train and he waited on the platform, the doors closed behind me and what´s the last thing he does? He kisses his Red Sox hoodie. Tsk Tsk. And he was behaving so well...

When I arrived in London, I found my way to my buddy Eric Kuhn´s dorm (he´s been studying at the London School of Economics for the year), and he greeted me with... a YANKEES CAP on! hahaha Long. Live the Bronx Bombers!

Despite being ridiculously tired, I carried on and we decided to go grab some dinner. We had gyros and the best tomato salad of my life in a cute little area called Covent Garden as we watched street performers; we also met up with another Hamilton friend who happened to be visiting London as well. After dinner, we walked into a coffee shop called Cafe Nero, which was apparently started by a few Colgate alums (enough said on my thoughts about it). And, we started randomly talking to two French women. Interestingly, one was spending the summer in London working at the French Embassy there. After a while, she asked us if we wanted to come to her friend´s birthday party at a nearby pub. Uhhhhh....YES. So we go to this pub, which looks oddly familiar to me, and all of a sudden I realize, holy beer gods...I´ve been here before. It was this place called ¨The Porterhouse", which looks like a brewery inside and all of the walls are glass cases lined with vintage beer bottles. I recognized it because I went to the same pub in Dublin! Apparently, there are only 5 of them in the world, and I winded up going to two in the same week. What are the chances of that? Kinda cool. I buzzed on some delightfully strong Belgian strawberry beer, and mingled with this posse of people from France. There we were, smiling, laughing, exchanging e-mails, and taking pictures- probably the closest thing your gonna get to positive American-French relations anytime soon. One of the girls even offered to host me should choose to stop by in Versailles during my travels..very sweet.

After a deja-vu Porterhouse experience, Eric and I decided to take a night tour of London and saw the great sights- Big Ben, the London Eye, Buckingham Palace, etc. We stopped at a cute Mexican restaurant for more drinks- this time, delicious raspberry daiquiris. I should probably explain my relationship with Eric- we are the two most media-crazed twenty-something individuals you will find, so when you put us in the same room, the talking never stops. Always good times with Kuhn, until our throats started hurting from talking too much. Lesson: learn sign language for future never ending conversations.

We made a little bit of a bad judgement call when we decided to go to bed at 3 am, because we had to wake up at 6 am the next day to watch my former college roommate and great friend Bridget row in the Henley Women´s Regatta- which is pretty much the Wimbledon of crew. I was so excited to see her, and to finally watch her row...but the only problem was that the town of Henley was- unbeknownst to us- two hours away. So, we wake up at 6:45 and need to be OUT of the house by 7 am sharp. Needless to say, I took the fastest shower in my entire life (If some of you saw it, you´d probably think it was nothing short of a miracle that I got ready that fast.)

Now, for a second, clear your mind and picture this scenario...

It´s 7 am on a Saturday morning in Central London. Eric and I are sprinting in the pouring rain to the Tube- him putting on his belt and me tugging down at my dress; sprinting down the ENDLESSLY LONG escalators and stairs to catch train #1 of 2. We had 10 minutes to get on the second one, and the trip was going to take us 9. I kid you not. So we get off train #1, sprint to buy tickets for train #2 and get the fabulous news that.....we are at the wrong stop. Perrrrrfect. Even though the stress level was high, I don´t think I stopped laughing- like, REALLY laughing- for about an hour and a half. We finally realize we are going to miss my roommate´s race and sit there in silence waiting for the next train (because I finally stopped laughing) when all of a sudden Eric, out of absolutely nowhere, goes, "Jesus Christ Superstar!" hahahhahaha...Aaaaand the laughing ensues. Luckily, I caught Bridget just in time and we got to spend the afternoon together, which was terrific.

When we headed back to London, the both of us absolutely exhausted, we went to a very cool place called Portobello Market where I was accosted by an old lady for having a "terrible sounding American accent". Then we went to dinner at a place called Wagamamas. The name itself made it worth going to, but the food good as well. I finally took a much needed nap, and just when I was getting in my sleep groove.....Eric wakes me up at 11 pm blasting "I´m Blue" by Eiffel 65, and informs me that I have 5 minutes to get ready because we are going to Bungalow 8.

....Let me explain. Bungalow 8 is this disgustingly exclusive club in New York and London that you need a membership to get into. It´s the kind of place that is written about in Vogue and Vanity Fair, with no promotions, no name on the door, and a very expensive velvet rope. Let´s just say if it weren´t for Eric´s fabulous friend, there is no was in hell we would have gotten in there...ever. Now, for those of you who know me and my obsession with heels and dressing up, you can just imagine me FREAKING out because I´m living in pretty much flip flops, t-shirts, and jeans on this trip. Not only do I have nothing to actually wear to this place, but I have a mere 5 minutes to look like a decent human being with the few clothes I do have.

I pull something together, we hop in a cab because we are late meeting his friend (the cab driver said as we got in: "But it´s just around the corner...", and Eric replies, "Great! That means we´ll get there even faster now." hahaha). This place is as exclusive, fun, and ridiculous as people say it is- I had an absolute blast, and it was a huge treat for me. One minute, I am nibbling on PB & J to save my precious Euros. The next, I am sipping on a bottomless supply of $25 Summer Breeze´s (no exaggeration with the price) and Bungalow shots. At around 3 a.m., I look around as I am dancing on a sofa surrounded by London socialites, wondering to myself "How in the bloody hell is this actually happening right now?" Absolutely un-freaking-real. =0)

Oh- and the cab ride home, which thank goodness we didn´t have to pay for, was 40 pounds. To put it in perspective, that would be a little more than $85 American dollars. You are right Amy, I do hate the Pound more than the Euro.

The next day, I woke up at 1 pm (ohhhh, soooooo worth it), did some sightseeing, had an amazing dinner with good company, and didn´t forget for a minute how blessed I was to have the opportunity to travel. Eric and I saw this man on the street who asked for change, and we just walked by, but he muttered, "Ok, thank you anyway. Cheers!" ....I just had to stop and give him change. I handed him a two pound coin; he looked at it for a long while, and I looked at him for a long while. His expression is ingrained in my mind, and I was literally brought to tears. Why is it that some people get to travel all over Europe for the summer, while others must beg for change all day?

Some say the difference is hard work, desire, perseverance. I say that´s a load of crap. Not that all of those things aren´t important, but I know there are many people in this world who work their butts off 12 hours a day trying to provide a good life for themselves and their families, and they bring home a few hundred dollars a week- if that. Then there are people who never really work a day in their lives and have inherited millions. Yes, life can be unfair when you think about it in these terms. But regardless, people have to live this unfair reality every single day. In the end, it´s not just about working hard and being passionate or driven. A lot of it is about circumstance- the family you were born into, the way in which you were raised, the color of your skin, the slant of your eyes, and the place you were born. We can´t always control circumstance, but we can control how we react to the things that happen to us. That man on the street chose to say "cheers" instead of "bug off". He chose to see that 2-Pound coin as 2 Pounds more than he could have asked for, rather than 2 Pounds less than what he needed.

I guess if I could pinpoint the most relevant part of this trip for me, it would be getting lost, being late, and having the whole morning on the way to Henley turn into a somewhat humorous disaster. It´s interesting how being behind by just a few minutes can set off the course of your entire day. It makes you feel like you are always playing catch up...like there´s always more to do than can be done. Even though I tried my best to laugh my way through it, I´m not going to lie- I was mentally and physically exhausted by the end of that day. When we were at the race, Bridget was talking about how just one tiny movement of a stroke could mean the difference between winning and losing an entire race. One arm spasm, one bad gust of wind, one leg movement- it could throw the entire boat off. What I realized, thinking back on the whole day, is this:

Every Moment Counts.

It´s hard to think of things in those terms because then we start to overanalyze all of the little choices we make. And who can live like that? Luckily, I´m already obsessive compulsive, so I´m used to it! But seriously, each movement is a decision-- to talk to the stranger in a Red Sox hoodie; to laugh your way through a bad situation; to introduce yourself to random French people in a cafe; to smile with your head up instead of walk with a frown...

All of these small movements are choices. While they seem minute and somewhat unimportant in the present, we just never know when one day, a small choice might change the trajectory of a life. We can´t look back, and we can´t really predict what is ahead, either. All we know is the moment we are in- if we give it the attention and care it deserves, this funny thing often happens...circumstance takes care of the rest.


I am in Madrid now, so updates to come in a few. Hope this e-mail finds you all fulfilled and happy!

Love life,
Melissa


Observations:

1. The seats on the Tube and the National Rail are about an inch or two closer together than NYC subways and Amtraks. Juuuuust enough to make a New Yorker slightly uncomfortable and claustrophobic.

2. I think the escalators are a tiny bit faster than the ones in NYC. Or, that could have just been sleep deprivation.

3. Why is the Thames river so damn long?

4. I really like British accents =)

5....I really don´t like that I can´t talk like that, too. Sounds so much classier (Roman, you know how I feel about this).

6. All bus drivers in London should be required to know where Buckingham Palace is. Come on now...I´m not even from there and I know where it is.

7. Something needs to be done about how expensive transportation is there. It costs $45 just to get to the airport by train. I might as well fly to the airport, too.

Trip-to-Date:
Days: 7
Roommates: 7 (one of which was a pre-roommate....love you Bridget!)
PB & J Sandwiches: 5 (I´m happy to say this number is the same as in the last e-mail)
Local Life Lesson: "Work Hard" (Thanks to my new buddy Ali for that- see you in Queens, so soon!)
Jukebox: "London Rain", Heather Nova
Random Thought: Why do they call biscuits "digestives"? ...Anyone?
Quotables: In true Melissa fashion...

(while looking at the Big Ben clock in London as it strikes midnight...)
Eric: That´s weird, all the lights just went off. I´ve never seen it do that.
Me: Hmmm, strange. Well, what time is it?
Eric: Melissa....you're looking at a clock.

(after a non-PC comment was made by a certain individual)
Me: Hey, you know I hear it´s really important to have a filter.
Eric: For water?
Me: For your mouth.

Overheard: "If you rearrange the word MARRIAGE, what do you get?? A GRIM ERA, that´s what you get." hahahaha....love it.

Eurotrip Stop #1: Publin =)

Greetings from Publin!!!!

If you are receiving this e-mail, it's because I think you are special and want to share my travels with you. But, if for some reason you are feeling lame and don't wanna hear about my ridiculous stories, let me know and I will stop soliciting you! (P.S. These will probably be long and coming to you twice a week or so, so if you don't have time to read it, I'll be posting them at melissajoykong.blogspot.com so you can read them later on when you have time.

The Fortune of Time

In the past month, I have lived through a week of finals, "senior week" (aka the-most-unhealthy-week-of-your-life), graduated college (!!!), had a sweet graduation party in NYC, attended two other graduation parties, and moved twice. I've said 100 goodbyes, and a 100 more hellos. I've left a new home, and returned to an old one. And frankly, I'm exhausted.

I know people generally feel either: really happy to be done with college and start life in the "real world", or really sad to put their "let's party on a Tuesday" days behind them. I've felt a little bit of both. I know I'm ready to move on and start the next chapter, but at the same time, it is bittersweet letting go of that lifestyle- being surrounded by your close friends all the time, living on your own general schedule, free concerts, parties, etc. There really is nothing quite like college, and I know I will miss it. But I've thoroughly enjoyed my four years, and you can't move forward if your looking back. So, that brings me to my next adventure...

Those of you who know me know that I have a problem sitting still. So since I have a large part of the summer off before I begin work, I am going to go explore Europe for a few months. I'll be posting the e-mails from the trip to share what I'm doing with the people I love, and to hear how you all are doing in return. And if you have any suggestions on places I should see while in Europe (or want to come along end of July - early August!), let me know, because I have relatively no idea what I'm doing.

=)

Love Life, 
Meli