The End of One Chapter Begins with the Opening of Another

As children, we often find ourselves consumed in the idea of who we want to be one day, or where we see ourselves after we have transitioned into adulthood. We're all striving for something greater than who we are, something memorable that we can be proud of. We're writing our own history, scribbling page after page until we write our epilogue. The ending and the beginning are far less important than the content you've written in the middle. It's the chapters that count, the birth of your first child, the moment when you graduated college, the vacation you took when you couldn't afford it. Those are the moments worth remembering.

For the past 8 months, I have been writing the most important chapter of my life thus far. This was my moment to do something incredible, the point in my life where I was able to be more than just a another face in a small town. Europe became my playground and there is nothing more incredible than taking a moment to look at your life and genuinely liking what you see. Happiness can come in all shapes and forms, but true and fluent happiness is when you love the person you've become. 

That is what this journey has given me, true and fluent happiness. And I've asked you, my fine readers, to send me a few questions about this past year to include in my final blog. It could be pieces of my journey that I haven't included in my entries or things you want to know for your own curiosity. Whatever the case may be, I'm happy to interact with you and I hope you enjoy.

---------

Who were the three most interesting people you met?

Traveling enables you to meet all sorts of people who are very different than what you're used to. They help you understand the culture you're surrounded by and when you take the time to converse with other people, you see that we're all similar despite our differences. 

One person I've met that I genuinely enjoyed being around was a man who works in the residencia named Antonio. Words cannot describe how much I love this man. From his spontaneous high-fives, his forehead kisses, and his very limited English vocabulary, he easily became the one person in Spain that I'm going to miss the most. He even FaceTime'd my mother one evening during dinner. Granted, he only knows a few words in English... but I was an excellent translator.

The next person I met was a few blocks down the street from where I lived in a Syrian shawarma restaurant. To this day, I don't even know the man's name, but I've been to his restaurant so many times that he knows my face. He knows what I order, that I hate tomatoes, and how obsessed with mayonnaise I truly am. I've spent more time with him than anyone else, including Antonio. 

Okay, maybe not Antonio.

Last, but certainly not least, Sister Margaret in Edinburgh's "St. Patrick's Cathedral." This woman's face will forever be on my heart. I stumbled into an old church nearly by accident. I had been looking for a rosary, a tradition that I have each time I travel to a new country, and St. Patrick's seemed just as good of a place as any. First and foremost, let me express that St. Patrick's was in NO WAY a tourist cathedral. Like Bob Ross always said, finding it was just a happy accident. The pews were filled with elderly people sitting quietly and waiting for the afternoon service to start. That's the point where I walked in, standing right in front of all of them, with my leather jacket and backpack. After the initial humiliation, I started to leave until this elderly lady came up to me and asked me if I needed something. (This elderly lady is not Sister Margaret.) --- This woman took me through the cathedral after I told her I wanted a rosary, and we went to another room where I got to meet Sister Margaret. She was this cute, old lady working in the gift shop with long gray hair pulled into a bun. She introduced herself to me, shaking my hand and asking what I was doing in Scotland. (She could hear my accent.) Then after I told her I was just passing through, she called the rest of the sisters into the gift shop to come and meet me. I'll never forget her saying, "This is Jessica. She's from Kentucky. Isn't she lovely?" in this thick, Scottish accent. They were so surprised to see someone that wasn't a local. I wish I could see them again so they would know just how impactful their kindness had been with me, but I do have a rosary as a reminder.

What would you consider the top five sites you visited?

In this answer, I didn't include Spain for a reason. Spain became more than just a place I was visiting. It became my home. So instead, I've included some beautiful places around Europe that I encourage all of you to look further into.

1. Neuschwanstein Castle, Germany 

2. Holyrood Park, Edinburgh, Scotland

3. Dublin, Ireland

4. Trevi Fountain, Rome, Italy

5. Dachau Concentration Camp, Dachau, Germany

What was your number one personal experience?

Traveling and living in a foreign country on your own is as personal as it gets, but the most personal experience that I've endured while in Spain was when I attended a bullfight. I come from a small, family farm in Summersville, where my grandfather has raised cattle my entire life. I grew up in an environment where I could physically pet a 1,500lb. bull without fear. When I went to a bullfight, I watched six get slaughtered right in front of me. It doesn't get much more personal than that. The tears I shed that day was more than I had the rest of the year combined.

When did you first feel truly homesick?

Thanksgiving Day. That was the first time since I had been gone where all of my family was together without me. Spain doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving, so I was in class for most of the day. It was just an all around weird experience to go from honoring the tradition to breaking it. 

How did you deal with the big doses of homesickness?

People deal with homesickness in many different ways. For me, I've been homesick twice in the past year and each episode lasted less than 24 hours. With new technology like Skype, FaceTime, and social media, it's very easy to stay connected with family. I talked to my mother nearly every day, so it was harder for me to become homesick, but dealing with it when it did occur was rather easy. Almost too easy. I mostly just reminded myself where I am in my life, that I chose to be here, and that my home will still be there when I decide to go back. 

For those who do get homesick, I don't suggest studying abroad for a year. There are other options where you would study for a month or less. There is absolutely nothing wrong with spending only a few weeks in a new culture. Do what's best for you emotionally and you'll enjoy your time more.

If you returned (to Spain, Germany, Ireland, etc), would it be for the same reason(s) you went this time?

I think so, yeah... The purpose in all of my travels is to learn. I don't plan to study abroad again, which was my ultimate reason for coming to Spain, but I can see myself working abroad. I'm in a transitioning period where I'm ready to begin my journey of volunteerism. I've been blessed in so many ways and I think it's time that I play my part in bettering the world. The reason I would travel again would definitely be for missionary or volunteer work.

Can you explain your feelings while in Germany?

There are places like France or Italy where people visit with the hopes of falling in love... and then there are places like Germany where you go without any sort of idea of what you're in for. When I got there, I was met with this unexpected sense of home that caught me entirely off guard. On the train to Munich after our plane had landed, I remember telling my friend, Sam, that it looked an awful lot like my hometown. There were all sorts of different farming equipment, green fields full of what I would have guessed as soy beans, and cute, little farm houses that looked so picturesque. It was truly beautiful, but not only did the terrain make me have this sense of familiarity, I also was commonly mistaken for a German. A news lady stuck her microphone in my face in front of their Town Hall and started rambling off something in German, then the next day someone thought I was the waitress in a restaurant. It was strange, but welcoming after spending so much time in a country where I had no choice but to stand out. I felt comfortable in Germany, like I belonged.

What was your favorite food in Spain?

My favorite Spanish food was paella. I absolutely hate admitting that because it's so typical. Nothing says "American" quite like ordering paella in a restaurant, but I truly do love it. It's a seafood rice platter that will literally have you never wanting to eat anything else ever again. It's that good. If you ever try paella in Spain, be sure to squeeze a lemon slice over it before you stir the rice. You can thank me later.

Do you plan to bring some of the things you learned in Spain back home with you and teach others what you learned?

Absolutely. I've spent a significant amount of time here. It would be impossible for me to not bring back certain tidbits of this culture because it's a part of who I am now. First of all, I am an avid fan of wine. I hardly drank wine before living here, but now that I've seen how cultural it is and how wonderful it tastes with food, I'll definitely be starting my own wine rack. As far as teaching people what I learned, I would be more than happy to share stories or converse with people about studying abroad. At my university, I'll more than likely be doing some volunteer work as a guest speaker for my language department. I'm also always available for my local high school. I've spoken to the Advanced Spanish class a couple times already about studying in Spain. The best thing you could give someone is knowledge, what they do with it is what tests their true character. Hopefully once I return to the states, I can speak to more people about taking the same risk I did.

What was your favorite part of this entire trip? What was the worst?

Since this question came from my mother, the worst part of the trip was being so far away from you. I'm not too old to admit that I did miss my mother. As far as my favorite part, I think it would be the opportunity to see so many places. Most people travel to one, maybe two countries in their lifetime. I've been to nine and I'm only 21. 

Which part of your year's travels made the most impact on you?

I've been a student at the University of Granada for two semesters, I've met some phenomenal professors, classmates, etc. The biggest impact on me would hands down be my learning environment. I've learned so much from these people about the culture, the history, the food, the people, the language. My first semester I had a few classes in English along with my Spanish classes. By the time I started my second semester, even my electives were taught in Spanish. Me, a girl who completely tanked her placement exam, was comprehending fluent Spanish. If that's not an impact, I don't know what else is.

In what ways are Americans unappreciative compared to all of the people you've encountered while gone?

My civilization and culture professor, Antxon, told the class that the main difference between Americans and Spaniards is their work ethic. We, as American's, often spend more time at our workplace than anywhere else. Antxon's exact words were "Los americanos viven para trabajar, los españoles trabajan para vivir." -- Sorry, Antxon doesn't speak English. What he meant was, "American's live to work. The Spanish work to live."  Whether it's missing a child's soccer practice, staying later than your shift and missing dinner, or becoming overly stressed by your job... it's become apparent to me that some American's are unappreciative of how privileged we are to even be able to have dinner's to miss or children to raise. The Spanish work solely to fund their lifestyle. They take long lunch hours, get paid during maternity leave, and they even have a paid vacation for newlyweds. Even the Coke here tastes better.  

We're also unappreciative of little things like long showers, freezing cold drinks, air conditioning. I can't remember the last time I had ice in my drink, and try sleeping in my bedroom with 90 degree weather and no air conditioning. Talk about humbling.

What were your feelings when you stepped on the plane to go to Spain? 

What do you think your feelings will be when you step on the plane to go home?

The minute I walked away from my mother at the airport last September to go through security, I stopped, got out of the security line, and ran back to her. I don't know what it's like to be a mother, but I do know what it's like to love mine... and contrary to popular belief, I didn't want to leave her. There were so many different emotions that day, from excitement to sadness to fear. Once I stepped onto the plane, the sadness was gone. The only thing left was excitement and fear, and combining those two makes for an interesting 18 hour trip.

When it comes to going home, I will have the same emotions thrown in reverse. I will look back at Spain, not wanting to leave it. This country is a part of me. I cannot stress that enough. Leaving it is not going to be easy, but once I get on the plane to go home, I have a funny feeling I'm going to have a smile on my face.

What were the cultural differences between home and Spain?

1. The food - Food in Spain is much healthier than in the United States. They use a lot of olive oil, take time on their cooking, and enjoy eating socially. There is this phenomenon where when a group of friends goes to a bar and orders a drink (whether it be beer or wine or soda) they get the choice of ordering "tapas" to go with it. Tapas are various types of traditional Spanish appetizers. In Granada, those "tapas" are free. So, when you go to a bar and order a class of wine, the bartender will bring you free food. Some bars even give you a menu. 

2. The nightlife - College students in the US go out around 9 and are usually completely finished by 3, depending on the person. Spaniards are lucky to be ready by 3 and they're not coming home until the sun comes up. When I lived with my host family, my host mom would always ask me what time I came home the night before. If I told her anything less than 6 or 7 am, she would tell me I came home too early. 

Those are the main two that really stand out to anyone visiting Spain for leisure or for study. Other than those there are the difference in exams and homework, the language, (obviously) the way people openly express themselves, the endless showering of compliments, (welcomed or otherwise) or the tiny cars that our trucks could easily drive on top of.

Do they serve "pollo bandido" over there in Spain? 

Hahahaha. No, but my life would be a lot easier if they did.

Does Spain have a restaurant called "The Green" where they serve American food?

No, but we have McDonald's, Burger King, KFC, and exactly two Taco Bell's.

How did you grow spiritually, emotionally, and mentally during this trip?

The girl who traveled to Spain last September is not the same girl that will leave in a few days. Growth is an inevitable part of anyone's youth, whether they be abroad or otherwise. While living in Spain, I was able to see the beauty in religion and not just in my own. I live in Andalusia, which is a autonomous community in the south of Spain that used to be ruled by a Muslim Kingdom. (They called it Al-Andalus.) Being so close to North Africa, there are a lot of Moroccan and other Muslims that live in Granada as well as the Alhambra with is what the city is known for. I took an Islamic Culture class this semester and for the first time, I was able to learn about the Muslim faith from an unbiased source. If more American's would take the time to learn about Islam, we wouldn't be so terrified of it. 

As far as spiritual growth in my own beliefs, I have this tradition where I always buy a rosary in every country I visit. This started back in 2011 the first time I came to Spain. Spiritual grown for me came from seeing just how passionate people are in their beliefs. There are so many kind people in this world, people who care about others more than they care about themselves. Take Sister Margaret, for example. I could have easily been a murderer or a psychopath, but she didn't hesitate to hug me and introduce me to all of the other sisters. Having people come into your life that give you hope for humanity is enough to strengthen anyone's faith, because I know in my heart that God put me in these scenario's for my own spiritual growth.

Emotionally and mentally, this trip gave me the incentive to search deeper into our planet and find my own way of making the world a much better place than it was when I found it. Though I still have my sense of humor, I've matured into a young woman that knows exactly what she wants out of life. I may not have all the puzzle pieces together, but I've got the picture on the front of the box. I know what my ultimate goal looks like and I'm going to try my best to reach it.  

---------

What I want to do as I close this chapter of my life is challenge my readers to do something spectacular. I want each of you, young and old, to plan a trip. This trip can be to China, Australia, South Africa, or to the next county over. Wherever you choose to go is left up to you, the main point is that I want you to go. There is life all around us just waiting to be seen. Maybe it's a field of flowers you drive by every day without glancing at, maybe you've had a family vacation on your mind for the last three years that you've never got around to taking. This challenge isn't difficult. You can go 5,000 miles or you can go one mile, but you have to go. You're not going to have back luck for 72 years if you don't, but you will be selling yourself short on an opportunity to enjoy the planet that God so perfectly created. Even if it's spending the day at the park having a picnic with your family, enjoy the earth and take a minute to marvel at how beautifully sculpted it is.

The end of one chapter begins with the opening of another. As for me, I'm clicking my heels together, going back to my favorite town, and hoping that the people in it haven't forgotten me. Someone once asked me what I'm going to do next. If you're looking for a more profound answer, then you've caught me at the wrong time. At this point in my life, the only place I want to be is on my grandparent's front porch with a glass of sweet tea and handful of cookies that my Granny keeps stashed in a tupperware bowl on her kitchen table. The rest will have to wait.

The end.

Cloud Atlas

If you told me my life was a dream, I would probably believe you. In what world does someone from a town with one gas station get to travel Europe with a backpack and her camera? Someone once told me that someone like me would never make it out of my hometown. I wasn't cut out for the city life, I wasn't programmed to make it in a world that would swallow me up and spit me back out. Their words echoed in my head for several years before I finally stopped believing them. The truth is, no one knows yourself better than you do. People can't tell you what you're capable of. You hold the map. You have the keys. And you own the car. If you choose to stay, stay... but never for a second believe that you aren't able to go.

My "car" was a plane an my "map" was a globe. I'm like my grandfather. I do what I want. I get my mind set on something and I won't stop until I have it. Everyone wants to see the world, we all have a bucket list, and we're all searching for that life-changing vacation. For some of us, it's not possible to just give up everything and buy a plane ticket. Sometimes the adventure is a few miles away from us. Others live vicariously through television, magazines, books, and other people. Whatever the case may be, we all have the same dream.

Alpsee Lake, Germany

I believe that there are two types of people in this world, both of which have the same suppressed desire for traveling. One of them craves it so much that they'll stop at nothing until they have it. The other can live off the idea and be perfectly content without every having to take their feet of the ground. I fall into the first category. I'm the type of person that lives for the adventure and staying in one place for too long makes me restless. I want to see it all. Indonesia, Cuba, Japan, Finland, Botswana, Peru, Colombia, Saudi Arabia, Israel, Egypt, Iceland. A new country pops into my mind every day and I think of all the reasons I should visit it. Granted, some of them I'll never be able to see, but there is a gene in my DNA that tells me it could happen. Nothing makes me feel more alive than staring out of a plane window, flying over the Alps, the ocean, the Mediterranean Sea... Seeing the rising sun on one side of the plane and the moon and night sky set from the other. This is what I was meant for and I'm never going to be able to give it up.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Germany. Alemania. Deutschland. No matter what you refer to it as, Germany is easily one of the most beautiful countries I've ever seen. It was one of those hidden gems that I would have never noticed had my friends not suggested a weekend trip to Munich. We spent three days in Bavaria, long enough to hike in the Alps, visit Neuschwanstein, tour Dachau, and eat as much German food as possible. 

Living in Spain has been complicated for me in a sense that I cannot blend in with the culture. Spaniards are very dark complected with dark hair and brown eyes... which is virtually my polar opposite. I can't walk down the street without someone staring or calling me "rubia." (Which is Spanish for "blonde.") Most people are giving compliments because the Spanish culture is very open to expressing themselves, but after a few months... that gesture tends to get old. It's frustrating to be generalized by your hair color and some people see blondes as being "easy" or some prize to be won. 

When I arrived to Germany, it was the first time in months that I blended in. I was walking through a plaza next to the New Town Hall when a newscaster tried to interview me in German with her microphone. Every time I walked into a restaurant, the waitress would greet me in German, but address the people I was with in English. One woman even went as far as thinking I was the waitress.  When I went to purchase a rosary from St. Peter's Cathedral, the woman whose name tag said she spoke both English and German addressed me in German without hesitation. I didn't come off immediately as an American or as a foreigner, and for the first time sense I've been in Europe, I actually felt like I physically belonged. 

Dachau:

One my very first day in Germany, we decided to visit a concentration camp. For me personally, Dachau was a very humbling experience. Standing on the very ground that over 500,000 people were murdered on made me realize just how truly blessed I am to be so fortunate in life. All of my problems seemed trivial compared to what these people were put through. Dachau was easily one of the most memorable places I've ever visited and is a destination I would highly recommend to people who are interested in experiencing something so incredibly powerful.

My initial response to Dachau was silence. I found myself unable to speak as I walked through the site. Nothing had ever broke my heart as much as that place did. As I walked through the museum, I ventured off to myself because I knew I would inevitably cry. By the time I reached the photos of dead prisoners, my eyes were soaked. It's unbelievable how cruel our world is capable of being, but after reading the wall in the center of the site, I knew there was hope in forgiveness.

Forgiveness is what enables the world to move on. You cannot blame the current generation for what their ancestors did no more than you can blame our ancestors for the genocide of Native Americans. We can't keep paying for mistakes we didn't make. What we can do is keep the past from becoming our future and to stand up for those who can't stand for themselves. 

"May the example of those who were exterminated here between 1933-1945 because they resisted Nazism help to unite the living for the defense of peace and freedom and in respect to their fellow men."

If you ever visit Germany, or even Poland, be sure to visit a concentration camp. Don't be afraid to look at their faces, read their story, and learn about what they went through. Their memory deserves to be heard the way their voices never were. 

New - sh - won - stine: 

Every little girl dreams of living in a fairy tale. Disney programmed us to believe that dreams come true and that our prince will sweep us off our feet. Though the prince part is complete bullshit, the dream part is very much capable of happening. I believe fairy tales come in many different forms because not every person will have the same idea of what magic is, but I found my fairy tale at Neuschwanstein.

The Bavarian Alps as well as Alpsee Lake

Neuschwanstein is in the south of Germany near the Austrian border and was built for King Ludwig II.. This castle is located in the Bavarian Alps, high above the Alpsee Lake, and has the most majestic landscape you'll ever feast your eyes on.. Every thing I had ever dreamed of as a little girl came to life at Neuschwanstein. The inside was as beautiful as the outside and had a room dedicated to the story of Tristan and Isolde, one of my favorite tales. (cue movie with James Franco) I kept jokingly asking when my move-in date was. I may not be a princess on paper, but I'm fairly positive I'm probably a princess. You'll have to ask my mother.

After touring Neuschwanstein (by the way, spelling and pronouncing that is too much of a hassle) we decided to hike in the Alps. I can add that accomplishment to my resume. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever plan to see the Alps, let alone stand in them. After hiking, I did what every other Kentuckian would have done. I took my shoes off and stuck my feet in the freezing cold water of the Alpsee Lake. My mother would be so proud. I may be classy, but sometimes I just can't help myself. What can I say? I was raised in Kentucky.

Füssen, Germany

Herzl am Rathus is the yellow building in the back. 

Füssen is a place that will hold little significance to many of you because you probably didn't know it existed. The small and quaint town is hidden among the mountains and nested along the Austrian border. Our train to Neuschwanstein stopped there and gave us some time to explore and have dinner. We went to a restaurant called Herzl am Rathus. When I was younger, sauerkraut and potatoes was a regular meal in my household so I was very excited to be able to finally try the real deal and I was in no way disappointed. At this restaurant, another German customer thought I was an employee. 

(as previously mentioned)

The English Garden:

A friend of my suggested that if I came to Munich I should visit the English Garden. After relaxing at Alpsee Lake and feeling how tranquil it was to sit along the water, I wondered if the English Garden would be as soothing.

The Garden was massive and spread out over several kilometers, all of which is very lively and very green. There are several different species of birds throughout the park, swimming in the lakes and streams. Munich has done a very good job at providing something for everyone inside of it. There were places to lay in the grass for a picnic, bike trails, horse trails, places to walk your dog, areas to relax and have a beer, ice cream vendors, waterfalls, flowers, trees, paddle boats. Anything you'd want in a park, the English Garden could facilitate. We spent a nice afternoon walking around the trails, eating bratwursts, drinking a beer, taking photos, and people watching. This place was without a doubt the most interesting landmark within the actual city of Munich. Everywhere else I had visited up until that point had been either on the outskirts of town or 2 hours south.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Where do you want to go? If there is a place that immediately pops into your mind when you hear that question, then don't hesitate to take yourself there. The only thing you should ever regret in your life is the things that you didn't do.

For all of you that check in on me through my grandparents, thank you. My grandmother and grandfather (other than my mother) are my biggest fans. Their eyes light up whenever they get to talk about their grandkids. It makes their day and because they are happy, I am happy.  Thank you for reading. 

Until next time, xoxo

Colors of the Wind

Life is the air you breathe, the water you drink, the way your toes feel when they curl in the sand, or how your heart leaps when you see someone you care about. It's about pressing your face into the glass of an airplane window and watching swimming pools and baseball fields become smaller the higher you rise. It's about loving human life unconditionally no matter what they've done or said to you and about making wishes, saying prayers, or smiling at strangers. Life has so many definitions, so many hidden meanings. With every tick of the clock, you begin to understand just what living life is all about. You just have to listen. You have to search within yourself and find that feeling in the pit of your stomach that tells you which direction to turn.

In my life, I've met so many incredible faces. Some have come and gone. Some have been great, some not so great. Some have made me laugh, made me cry, made me strive to be a better person, and some have helped me realize just how blessed I truly am to begin with. I've gained friends. I've lost friends. I miss friends and some I've let go of. The people in your life, whether good or bad, hold more power than you think. They're your support system, your motivator. They remind you of your capabilities and offer a hand after someone else has kicked you down.

I don't believe God ever meant for the world to get as ugly as it has gotten, but I do believe he has sent people into my life, into your life, to balance out the unnecessary evil. Take the time today to hug the ones you love, to thank them for sticking around long after everyone else has left. Or if you are like me and can't physically see your family or your friends, write them. Something as simple as a sentence can breathe life into someone's soul. Don't ever hesitate to use the power of language to put a smile on a blank face.

Granada, Spain

When I was a kid, I used to dream of what it would be like to be inside an airplane. I was that little girl that stared at the sky and looked for "the stars that moved and flashed." I would find myself imagining the people on them, where they were going, how they felt being so high above the earth. My mind reeled with questions that I now have all the answers to. This experience has turned me into a whole new person. I see life differently and I appreciate things that I used to overlook. That's what's so beautiful about traveling. It humbles you. It will break you down to your lowest point and send you home standing taller than you were when you arrived.

In three days, I'm going to Germany. If you had asked me several years ago to make a list of all the places that I wanted to visit, Germany probably wouldn't have made the cut. There is no particular reason why. My mind had always been so wrapped around Italy, Ireland, etc... that I never gave Germany a shot. I'm going to Munich, Dachau, and further south to see the Neuschwanstein Castle. You know the Disney Castle? Well, this is the real life version. Even though my Disney loving heart can't wait to visit the castle, I believe I'm most excited to visit Dachau. It's not that I'm morbid or a glutton for sadness... but I've spent several years learning about Nazi Germany and how it impacted the world. It will be a humbling experience to walk through the first concentration camp built in the country and learn more about the people who lost their lives inside of it. My next blog will definitely be about this upcoming trip, so get ready to cry. This one is for you, Mr. Withers.

After Germany, I'm taking one last trip before I prepare to finish off my semester. I've booked a flight to London, Dublin, and Edinburgh. Back to back. It's 7 days of history and culture that I have been waiting for. I'm finally going to Ireland. I'm finally getting to see the Cliffs of Moher. By the time I return to the United States, I'll have completely eliminated my top 3 countries that I've always wanted to visit (Italy, Spain, Ireland) and added a few unlikely places that I never thought I'd go to.

Photos will be coming, so brace yourselves. I've slacked on my photography because I forgot how to be a tourist. The next couple of weeks will be a cultural overload and I'm excited to take all of you with me.

Until next time, here's some photos of Granada.

Backstreet's Back, Alright.

There are people in this world that want to see you fail. Their happiness lies in your misery and sometimes giving in to their venom seems like the easier option. Words are a powerful tool and part of the reason I study what I study. What you say to someone, whether it be a compliment or an insult, has the strength to carve itself onto the heart of the person you're speaking to. When they hear your words, their vision of self-worth can either rise or fall based on how you choose to communicate with them.

Words can empower you, make you feel like there is nothing in this world that you cannot do. They can make you laugh, make you cry, give you goosebumps, and change your life. Words are powerful in that they can either help build the foundation in which you stand on… or they can rip the groundwork right out from under you.

As a world full of similarly complex people, we have to chose our words wisely and mind our tongues. It's best not to speak on a subject you know little to nothing about, or make comments towards someone whose life has no direct effect on your own. Let your words strengthen the weak, motivate the lost, and give a smile to those that are frowning.

We've all been hurt by words and we cannot prevent what others may say… but we can choose what we say to others.

With that being said, I'm going to continue writing this blog. After a few weeks of contemplation, I've realized that there will always be a select few that don't have anything nice to say. Some say it is jealousy. They want what they don't have. They see someone doing well, someone they didn't particular like in the past, and they continue to transmit negative energy on a chapter that's long been closed. Their jealousy becomes a fuel for hatred… Even though I'm flattered that I still manage to come up in conversation even after years of being gone, it is still petty and unnecessary. Let it go.

I sure as hell did.

….

Now that that is out of the way, let's get back to the heart of my blog. These entries are my way of bringing the people I love with me to Spain, sharing my stories, and hopefully giving my hometown a reason to go beyond our county line.

This is Chapter 2. This is the second half. The go big and go home.

Everything about this experience has been unbelievable. God gets all the glory for this one. He has truly blessed me with the life that I had thought I would only be able to dream of. My dream is my real life. It is difficult for me to put into words the happiness I feel when I wake up in the morning. I can honestly say that I'm glowing. I'm alive… and not just in the sense that my heart is beating. I'm alive in a way that I can feel the little things around me… the way the wind blows, the sound of language flowing from person to person as I walk down the street, the smell of paella or the tingling taste of red wine… I notice every little detail, even the things that most of you would overlook or find trivial.

Everything about this experience is magic.

From Louisville, KY to Madrid, Spain in 14 seconds

Forever Alone on Two Different Continents

The minute my plane touched down on Spanish soil, it immediately became apparent (once again) that Spain is home to some of the most beautiful men in the world. Some could probably use Joan Rivers' fashion advice, but the majority of them are the real deal Holyfield. Most of the time I'll find myself openly staring at them. It's honestly not my fault though. God wouldn't have made something so beautiful if people weren't suppose to look at it a little longer than the standard 3 second rule.

I arrived to my last terminal two hours early and managed to buy a chicken/bacon sandwich. You may take the girl out of America, but you'll never take the America out of the girl. After airplane food, 16 hours of traveling, and slipping through security like a professional, I figured I owed it to myself to stuff my face with something that tasted like freedom.

As I'm shoving large, sloppy bites of said sandwich into my mouth without any awareness to my surroundings, a group of fine, young gentleman made their way beside me. My eyes abruptly swelled to the size of tennis balls before I realized my black pullover was covered with bread crumbs and my cheeks rivaled Alvin, Simon, and Theodore. It truly wasn't a good look for me. Not to mention I was sweaty, jet lagged, and in need of a bed. These attractive young fellows were dressed in matching jumpsuits. They were a no-name soccer team of people I didn't even begin to know, but still… they were soccer players.

But that didn't have an effect on me. A couple of guys in fancy shirts, holding their duffle bags? Who cares? Not me, right? Right.

I got up from my seat and left, marching right up to a trash can with my empty sandwich bag and my head held high…

anddddddd then I turned around.

Before I go into details, let me start by saying that I truly do not aim to find myself in these particular types of situations. Things like this just happen to me. It's my luck, I guess. I've heard that somewhere down the line my ancestors were Irish. Who knows. The thing is… my life is a series of moments where I find myself questioning how I got into certain predicaments to begin with.

I ran into Real Madrid's Second Divison Futbol Team. And by ran into them… I mean I blindly turned around and came within inches of colliding with one of them. They were on their way to the Canary Islands and in typical, Spanish tradition, they were late. As I watched a whole team of potential husbands board a plane to a destination that was in fact NOT Granada, I realized that my life could be a Romantic Comedy. I was literally surrounded by young men, my age or a little older, that could one day be on television's around the world.

Ya know, I would have enjoyed being a futbol wag.

La Residencia

Right when you think you've went as far as you can go, take another step.

The beautiful thing about this second semester is that I've learned from my mistakes and can strengthen my experience by avoiding what I didn't enjoy before. Last semester, as you know, I lived with a host family. First and foremost, I loved my host mom. She was a seemingly kind-hearted woman that helped make adjusting to this culture much easier. The great thing with host families is that your parents will teach you tricks that will prepare you for what you'll face in the streets or when meeting locals. I appreciated everything that my host mom did for me, but let face it… I'm 21. I want my independence.

I'm now living in a residencia with about 40-50 Spaniards, both boys and girls. Some of you are probably confused by what a "residencia" is, but look at the word. Looks kind of like "residence," doesn't it? How about a Residence Hall? Any American college student knows all about that life. The thing about European residencias that separates it from America is that it is a million times better. Even though the bathroom lights don't work half the time, my bedroom is smaller than it used to be, and I nearly killed myself trying to drag my suitcase up the stairs… I'm once again having the time of my life. We get our food cooked and literally catered to us by our "jefe" Antonio. Then there is Carmen our cleaning lady that does my laundry and cleans my room. I've made friends from all over the US and Spain, people that I have already helped my semester get off to the right start. I honestly made the right decision in moving from my host family to a residencia.

Super Bowl Monday

While all of you back home sat on your respective couches with mounds upon mounds of finger foods spread out on your coffee tables on Sunday, I stood in an Irish pub packed with fellow Americans at 12:30 am on Monday. We all had the same goal for the night, find a way to keep our own tradition while embracing another. After belting out the national anthem, the room fell into a pretty passionate "USA, USA, USA" chant. It was beautiful and it felt like home. Freedom rang, guys. It rang hard.

What didn't ring was Peyton Manning. And by ring, I mean get one. And by get one, I mean… win.

After biting my knuckles, hiding in the bathroom to avoid Bruno Mars, throwing visual daggers at the gentleman in the Seahawks jersey, and trying to figure out what time Peyton Manning was supposed to show up to the game… I gave up on the Broncos.

I think I'm only meant to favor one Denver team. I'm looking at you, Nuggets Nation.

Yo No Hablo En Ingles

I've officially stumbled my way into the Advanced levels of Spanish. My speaking capabilities still rivals Mr. Miyagi, but I am able to understand the majority of what my professors say. It's an incredible feeling to see yourself come so far in a subject that you have spent so much time and effort in learning. It surprised me at how incredibly easy it was to understand my professor, take notes, and write in Spanish while paying attention to their lectures. We're not allowed to speak English in class, which I'm happy for. The more I speak Spanish, the better I'll become.

I'm honestly proud of myself for coming such a long way and continuing with my dedication to becoming bilingual. Seeing my work start to pay off is a wonderful feeling and I can only imagine how much better at speaking and listening I'll be once May rolls around.

….

"Do you know the best way to make a dream come true? Do you? It's to wake up."

I'll be home for Christmas

"I'm dreaming tonight of a place I love, even more than I usually do.. And although I know it's a long road back, I promise you, I'll be home for Christmas. You can count on me. Please have snow and mistletoe and presents by the tree."

42743:

There are 23 days until I go home for my winter break. Since the number 23 is my lucky number, I felt as though it is necessary to share my excitement for returning to the place I love most. I can say that now, you know, that Summersville is the place I love most. I've seen so many beautiful places, but for once in my life, I am able to say that my tiny town is where I would rather be.

No matter how far away you run, you'll always remember where you belong, and at the end of the day, it's important to know that it's okay to return to the place you started from. I've struggled with that concept my whole life. Growing up, I used to tell my mother how badly I wanted to get as far away from my hometown as possible and she always knew that one day I truly would. My life took me 4,345 miles before I realized that being in a town where everyone knows your name isn't so bad.

You are never aware of something's worth, until you don't have it anymore. I may not be cut out for the country life the way my family is, but this weekend during Thanksgiving, there is no place I would rather be than sitting in my grandmother's kitchen surrounded by food that she worked hard to prepare. Thanksgiving never meant much to me before now, but not being able to celebrate it made me remember everything that I loved most about it. The thing I love most about my grandmother is how soft her skin is. From all the Sunday's that I held her hand at church to the many times that I've kissed her cheek, her skin is what I think about when I try to paint a picture in my head of what Thanksgiving would be like from an outside perspective. That's what I'm doing. I'm on the outside looking in and as strange as you may find it to be, my grandmother's hands are what I remember most. They have prepared every Thanksgiving meal that I can think of, they've stirred mashed potatoes, set the table, and poured sweet tea into glass after glass for every dinner than I unknowingly took advantage of. I didn't realize just how much I would wish that I could hold my grandmother's hand as we prayed to bless the meal, or how much I wish I could take a slice of my mother's annual chocolate pie that I always hated. And as my eyes tear up thinking about how I can't race my brother to the dinner table, I understand what Thanksgiving was always meant to be about.

If you never get anything else out of these blogs, please listen to me when I tell you to enjoy what you have in your life. You may want more and it is okay to want more, but never for a second take for granted what you already have.

I haven't hugged my mother in 67 days. In over two months, I haven't seen my dogs, slept in my bed, seen my home, or laughed at my grandfather for watching reruns of Bonanza at a volume much louder than my grandmother would prefer. The day I left, I watched my grandfather cry more tears in 5 minutes that I had ever seen him cry in my entire life. He truly thought that in that moment, after I walked out the door, he may never have the chance to see me again. With his poor health, I came within inches of canceling everything and staying home. I even talked with my mother in a hospital parking garage a few weeks prior to my departure and asked her if I was about to make a mistake.

Leaving was not as easy as it may seem, but the reward has been worth the price. I'm 21 years old and have already lived a life beyond my wildest imagination. It's not every day that a girl from Summersville, Kentucky, a town with literally one gas station and no stoplights, has the ability to say that she followed her dream for 4,345 miles and never forgot how to find her way back. Someone told me a few weeks ago that my life should be a movie (probably one you'd find at the bottom of the 5 dollar movie bin at Walmart, but a movie nonetheless) and a part of me can agree to that. Movies are fictitious and usually have no grasp of realism... which is basically how I feel. None of this seems real to me, even after being here as long as I have been. I still feel like I'm going to wake up and the life I'm living will still be nothing more than an idea in my head.

My "little" brother and I circa Christmas 2010

I'm going home, my friends.
Before I confuse people, know that I'm not going to stay. I'm not leaving Spain early. I'm not dropping out. I'm not pregnant. I haven't been kicked out of my program, expelled from the university, or forced to leave my host family. My grades are perfect, my director's love me, and Granada is an overwhelmingly convenient place to live. The reason I'm going home is because I realized what is more important in my life... something much more valuable than my own dreams. . . . My family.

My grandfather has a countdown going. "Ca will be home in 25 days." "Ca only has 24 more days." "When Ca comes home I'll have to take her to get something good to eat." How could I ever choose to spend Christmas in Europe when I have people at home that miss me much more than Rome, Prague, or Berlin ever could? I can't put up a Christmas tree in Paris and London isn't going to feed me my grandmother's homemade lasagna. I could have spent Christmas in Dublin or Helsinki, but when it was all said and done, I chose Summersville. If you have to ask me why I chose a town that has no stoplights as the place where I wanted to spend Christmas, then you must have failed to read the beginning of this blog.

I have 23 days, 11 hours, 44 minutes, and 20 seconds from this moment before I get to walk through the airport in Louisville and see the people I love most standing there waiting for me. That, ladies and gentleman, will be worth more than anything Europe could ever give me.

When in Roma

Rome really wasn't built in a day.

The beauty of living in Europe is that you're a stepping stone away from many different remarkable cultures and sites just waiting for you to come and see them. I knew by moving to Spain, I would eventually make my way outside of its borders and experience more than what I bargained for, and the first stop on my list was Rome. We spend the majority of our school years learning about the Romans and how much of a role they played in terms of molding modern society. To be able to witness their ruins and see all that is left of them was absolutely incredible. That alone is enough reason to travel to Rome, but combined with good food, tasty wine, and fresco paintings... There is no greater decision than to spend a few days there.

From Spain to Rome in 15 seconds.

Make A Wish

When I came to Italy, I had a list of places that I wanted to see and only two days to see them in. There was the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, Trajan's Forum, the Vatican, St. Peter's Square, the Pantheon, the Colosseum, the Plaza of the Republic, and Santa Maria Maggiore. That's a pretty lengthy list for someone that doesn't know their way around the city and can't speak Italian, but luckily for me, I have the navigational prowess of Magellan. I completed that list with time to spare.

The Trevi Fountain was one of the first sites that I visited. The legend says to throw three coins over your left shoulder (one at a time) and make a wish for each coin. Being the superstitious gal that I am, I spent days leading up to Rome  trying to decide what my wishes would be. The Trevi is just as beautiful as you could imagine. Despite the large number of people crowding around it, it was relatively easy to make your way down to the water. I read somewhere that about 3,000 euros are thrown into the fountain each day. That's 3,000 wishes from hopeful people from all over the world. 

Though I have more to say about the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon was one of my favorite places in Rome. The famous painter, Raphael, is buried there. If you are familiar with Renaissance art, then maybe you are familiar with the Ninja Turtles. The Pantheon does not get enough credit. It's overshadowed by the Trevi Fountain and the Colosseum. The building is remarkably preserved for a temple that was built in 126 AD. The Italians have kept it well maintained. I was truly impressed. They also had a book that people could sign and I definitely represented Summersville, Kentucky. I know where I'm from.

Leave the gun, take the cannoli!

Ten points to whoever knows what movie that is from. 

Italy is home of some of the best cuisines in the world, and I don't know of anyone that doesn't occasionally like to treat themselves to some perfectly prepared pasta. Luckily for me, walking across Rome for miles and miles balanced out my calorie counter. Not that I was really counting anyway. Why worry about calories when you have pizza, lasagna, ravioli, spaghetti, ice cream, gnocchi, and cannoli's waiting for you to bite into it? 

I'm sure most of you are wanting to ask me the same question. Some of you even have..

Was the food as good in Italy as it is in the United States?

First of all, I think that whole concept of "is it better" is a myth. The only thing that makes food in Italy taste better than the food in the United States is the fact that you are eating it in Italy. Your tastebuds are blinded by the cultural experience and base the quality of the food on the location that you're eating it in. I hate to ruin so many rose-colored glasses, but the US has done well when it comes to mimicking the Italians. If you sat in a cafe in your hometown, turned on 'That's Amore,' and closed your eyes for a minute with the smell of spaghetti under your nose... You'd practically be in Italy. 

The only thing that I ate in Italy that the United States will never master is gnocchi. I'm obsessed with gnocchi. If you have never ate or heard of this dish, please do yourself a favor and go have a plate. Gnocchi, pronounced no-key, is one of my all time favorites. I tried to make it once in the states and failed miserably. My mother can vividly remember the mess I made out of her kitchen and I'll never forget the sour face that she made as she tried to eat it without making me feel bad. Though my gnocchi was salty enough to kill someone, the authentic Italian version made me want to kiss my waiter.

Have you ever seen The Godfather? If you have, you should have understood the quote in my header and will appreciate the fact that I finally was able to enjoy a Sicilian cannoli. After searching for a place that sold them, I managed to find a pastry shop near the Trevi Fountain. If you've never ate a cannoli, it is a tube shaped pastry filled with ricotta cheese. The taste is absolutely incredible and added to my much needed Italian experience.  I sat along the outer wall overlooking the Trevi Fountain and enjoyed my cannoli while Noah and I contemplated which site we were going to see next.

Are you not Entertained?

The Roman legacy is spread across the city, lying in ruins that looks more like puzzle pieces. You have to put each piece together in order to get a visual of what Rome was truly built to look like before it collapsed. A lot of people will not be as fascinated by the ruins as I was, but people who appreciate history would be enjoy seeing fragments of the past. Trajan's Forum was also a nice site to visit. Trajan was a Roman emperor that was born in modern day Andalusia, which is the state in Spain that I live in. 

Never go to Rome without going to the Vatican. Seeing the Sistine Chapel was one of the many highlights of my trip. Every art class that I have ever taken has mentioned Michelangelo's ceiling at least once, maybe even twice. It is one of the most recognizable paintings in the world and seeing a photo online doesn't hold a candle to seeing the real thing for yourself. I stood and stared at The Creation of Man for what felt like hours, enjoying every second that I could because I know I'll probably never see it again. 

I stood in the center of St. Peter's Square, I signed my name in the Pantheon, and I drank a fair amount of holy water on my two day excursion. There was nothing more rewarding than knowing that I fulfilled my dream of going to Italy. Being only 21 years old, I've been blessed with an incredible life. I've done so many things that most people only dream of doing and there isn't a day that goes by that I'm not thankful for this incredible adventure. This experience is overwhelming and I'm humbled by the amount of support that I get daily from people back home. You have no idea how much your kind words mean to me.

The best advice I will ever give you is to travel. Throw caution in the wind and go see the beautiful world that God created. There is no greater feeling than losing yourself in another culture and becoming consumed by new experiences. Most people take life for granted. They say they'll get around to traveling without ever taking the initiative to go. Now is just as good of a time as any. Take your family, go with some friends, or even go alone if you have to. The purpose is to feast your eyes on something you've never seen before. Spin a globe and pick a place, or search deep into the back of your mind for that one country you've always dreamed of visiting. You are not guaranteed that tomorrow will ever come, so use every waking second to move one step closer to fulfilling your dreams. The world is yours.

I wish you were here. Xoxo

127 Hours

Sierra Nevada

You'll never truly know how beautiful the world is until you take the time to see it for yourself. There is so much culture, so much history that we can't even begin to understand until we travel and take all of these scenes into our own perspective. Where is the last place that you went to? Did it overwhelm you in the way that is should have? Traveling isn't just about going to the beach and sitting in the sand. That is fun for a while, but the real beauty of traveling is going to a place and leaving a part of yourself behind all while taking a part of it away with you.

Hiking in the Sierra Nevada was a fun experience that took me out of my element, but was something that I knew I didn't want to leave Andalusia without doing. After going on my first hike, I can see why people love it so much. Nothing will ever make you feel so close to nature than being completely submerged in it. I had a nice afternoon in Alpujarra and took a lot of great photos. The thing I loved most about hiking was that everywhere I turned there was a beautiful photo opportunity. The mountains were so picturesque, I felt like Rockwell should have painted them. Maybe he did?

I've never been an outdoorsy type of person. I like the confinements of a large city where you can't turn a corner without seeing a taxi. The urban atmosphere has always been my sort of safe haven, but it was a nice change of pace  to stay in the mountains for awhile and to see nature in its purest form.

The Sierra Nevada looks like paint on a canvas. Every time I glanced at the playback of photos on my camera, I kept thinking to myself that none of this could be real. Never in my life had I seen something so overwhelmingly beautiful and unlike anything I had ever seen. The Smokey Mountains look like babies compared to these massive mounds of history. The view from the top was incredible and worth walking for five hours to see.

We trekked through streams, dirt, concrete, wooded areas, open plains... It was incredible how quickly the terrain would change from place to place and how everyone else seemed to be just as lost as I was. Every time we would pass through tiny pueblos, or towns, someone would ask where we were... and not once did anyone know the answer. We were just backpackers, roaming along the Sierra Nevada Mountains in search of something to marvel at.

Have any of you been hiking before? What was your experience like?

The Mediterranean Sea

After our rendezvous in the mountains, I went to the coveted Mediterranean Sea. You know that feeling you get when you're going to the beach, and then the first glimpse that you get of the ocean just takes your breath away? That's how I felt when I saw the Mediterranean. I saw it as this enormous body of water that separated me from Africa, a sea that I had spent my whole life learning about but never actually seeing in person. So much history happened in those waters and so much history is still happening in those waters.

We stayed in a placed called Nerja, a quiet, little beach town that had some very good paella (that I would later be unable to keep in my stomach, I'll explain in a few paragraphs) My friends and I climbed down a few rocks to get to a private area to ourselves. The water was cool but tolerable, and the sun made the waves sparkle like diamonds. I'm sure most of you are reading this with envy, of which you should be. The Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico are nice, but they don't hold a candle to the Mediterranean. 

If beautiful people and beautiful beaches are your weakness, by all means come stick your toes in the water. I promise it will be a moment that you'll thank me for later. Half the fun of traveling is finding something so beautiful that you have to share it with the people you care about. That's how I feel when it comes to Spain. I want all of you to find it within you to book your flight to Madrid, to Barcelona, to Malaga... I want all of you to experience this for yourselves rather than living vicariously through me. 

Now, remember when I said the paella was so good, but not kept in my stomach? What's a little travel without a little sickness? I knew at some point I would find something that would break my solid immune system. After puking my guts out while sitting next to our attractive bus driver, I ended my weekend and returned to Granada in one piece.

Overview

I have lived in Spain for over a month now and I've loved every second of it. There have been a few moments where I've wished I could see my family or hug my brother, but for the most part I am perfectly happy where I am. This experience is good for me. I'm learning about myself and how to become the person I have always wanted to be. It is a slow process, but I'm so happy to have all of you along for the ride.

As most of you already know, my birthday was a week or so ago. I am officially legal to drink alcoholic beverages in the United States. None of it seems real at this point because I'm still waiting for my family to tell me in person. I would have given anything to have had had my mother kiss me on the cheek and hug me, even though I am twenty one years old and living independently in Europe. Sometimes you just need your mother. 

She did find a way to reach me from abroad when she sent me a care package of birthday cards and letters signed by a few people that I love and miss back home. She got as many people as she could to sign a short message to wish me a happy birthday, and that was enough to make me melt to mush. Twenty one is a huge deal in American culture, something that the Spaniards don't quite understand. I did however get a few cheek kisses and partial hugs for my birthday from strangers and new friends while we were out celebrating my aging.

Receiving the letters and cards from my family and friends was the best thing I could have received from home. (and from Poland.. Thanks, Nat!) Knowing that I have people across the pond that love me enough to wish me well is one of the greatest feelings I could have. Thanks again to all that were involved in my birthday, both at home and here in Spain. 

As far as my classes are concerned, I'm enjoying them as much as I can. I've noticed that going to class in Europe is still just as hard as going to class in the United States. It is a universal culture norm to want to skip class... No one wants to wake up at 7 am and walk 30 minutes to school, but my week tends to go by faster here than it did in the states. I am only in class Monday to Thursday, so I'm not used to having such a large weekend. It's a nice difference, one that I'm not going to want to give up once I return to UofL.

A few of you have asked how I like living with a host family. It's a lot easier than I had expected. Isa is a lovely lady, even though I wish she would stop feeding us so much soup. I'm practically drowning in chicken broth. Other than my dire need in macaroni and cheese, I can come and go as I please. I have my own house key. She doesn't care if I stay out late and even comments on how if I come home at 3 am... That's too "early." She washes my laundry and always asks me how my day has been. It's nice compared to what it could have been. I like Isa and Juan Maria. They take good care of me.

I'm also happy to announce that I am a temporary resident of Spain with my own "foreigner number" where I can have a job, buy a house, have a bank account, rent a scooter, pay taxes, etc. It's very interesting to be an immigrant. I don't really feel like one anymore though. I've been here long enough to adjust to being Spanish. I'm speaking more and learning more as the days continue. I'm not as advanced as I would like to be and I still have a long way to go, but it is a slow process that I am embracing. 

In the next few weeks, I'm going to be traveling again. Seville, Córdoba, and Ronda are on the list of Spanish cities... and then I'm going to Rome for a weekend in the middle of November. My friends and I are going to the Vatican, see the Colosseum, and flip a coin in the Trevi fountain. I'm excited and ready to go to the one place I've spent my whole life dreaming of. My mother will finally be happy since I had spent most of my childhood talking about going to Rome. Every time we would pitch in ideas for a family vacation, mine was firmly "Italy." It's time I finally cross that off my bucket list.

Then in December, there is talks of Dublin, Ireland. Keep your fingers crossed for me. 

Hasta luego.