(#1) Desde Casa a Casa: Los Angeles, California to Valencia, Spain

“One never reaches home, but wherever friendly paths intersect, the whole world looks like home for a time”

            ~Hermann Hesse

The City of Arts and Sciences

To the student traveler, no place on Earth can compare to the peace and tranquility experienced during our short twenty-eight day break in the states. Freshman year in Europe as opposed to a normal Freshman year on campus can really confuse the hell out of anyone. It can bring out the best of us (and certainly the worst). We live in close quarters with people we’ve never met before and learn to get along. We learn to survive on our own, but in a country so unlike the one we grew up in. And, perhaps the most intimidating of all, we have to learn how to navigate the world and bring back memories to tell back home.

But I think Hermann Hesse has a point.

The country we spent four months in–– the one so unlike our own–– has truly become home. The people we live with, who were as foreign as the people who actually live in Europe, have become family members. Survival skills have become second nature, as if we had been doing it our whole lives. (Albeit, not everyone has learned.) And the world that we grew up studying in textbooks or looking up online has become as accessible as walking out into our own backyards or looking out our balcony windows. This whole traveling thing has really been a blessing, and I couldn’t be more excited to be back home for another semester.

La Mestalla- Valencia's Soccer field

If there’s one thing that I wish I could have done differently last semester, it’s that I should have been more involved in Spanish culture. And what can be more Spanish than going Valencia Fútbol games? (Note: “fútbol” will be used in its European context and is used interchangeably with “soccer”.)

In Spain, however, the myriad of Baseball parks has been replaced by an overwhelming number of Soccer fields. In passing the riverbed in Valencia–– which has been converted into a three-mile long recreational park filled with various sporting fields, but primarily for fútbol–– an hour doesn’t go by where one cannot find a group of Spaniards kicking a soccer ball. Many American kids grow up with a baseball mitt and ball to play catch with their parents; Spaniards, however, grow up with fútbol frenzy.

So, as the saying goes, if you can’t beat ‘em–– join ‘em.

In the span of one week, I attended two different fútbol matches, due in part to the fact that the tickets were so cheap. (In total, for both games, I spent thirty euros on tickets. Not complaining.) Both games were great, but nothing compared to the experience of sitting so close for the second game against Las Palmas. For twenty euros, I sat maybe 10 yards away from the field. Although we tied, to be able to sit that close felt like a once in a lifetime experience. I had never even sat that close for a Dodger game!

Me, Elizabeth, and Beth. Two of my great friends here.

Since attending these matches, I feel as though I’ve been more immersed in Spanish culture. On top of attending games, I participate in school-sponsored recreational soccer every Tuesday afternoon. Aside from sports, I try to attend as many intercambios–– language exchanges between Spaniards and native-English speakers to practice the opposite language–– as possible. Spanish music has become crucial, but Spanish Spanish music: more like Latin American music.

Living here has really brought out a great appreciation for my roots and my culture, and I really look forward to seeing what I’ll learn next. But I guess I’ll have to see where new roads take me next.

Til our roads meet again,
Christian Camacho
The Traveling 'Nole

Scholar of the Semester

Dear Reader,

At the start of the semester, a new opportunity presented itself to me and many other writers in the FSU Study Abroad program. During our first meeting as a whole in Valencia, administration posited the idea for their first annual Scholar of the Semester competition. The general premise is to write a blog (or any form of personal expression/reflection) that creatively reflects on our time here in Spain.

How could I say no?

Thankfully, this will serve as motivation for me to write constantly, posting blog excerpts as much as possible (well, the maximum is ten posts, so as much as 10 posts will allow me). The prize at the end, while a good incentive, means nothing. It really is about the reflection, and creating a memoir of what will undoubtably be in the top best experiences of my lifetime.

The purpose of this post is to let my readers know that the following ten posts, while still pertaining my Spanish experience, will be aimed at this particular event.

I look forward to writing about my experiences and sharing them with world even more. Wish me luck, and good luck to all the other participating bloggers, as well.

'Til our roads meet,
Christian Camacho
The Traveling 'Nole

P.S. This post is not to be regarded as one of the ten posts.

A Quick Reflection Before 2nd Semester...

First of all, I'm honestly sorry for my complete lack of attention to this blog. With the craziness of first semester's adventures, I've hardly had time to write, or myself for that matter. (Okay, I came home and did nothing, but 28 lazy days at home was exactly what I needed!). But anyway, better late than never.

Second of all, I will try to squeeze in a post regarding last semester's adventures, but I will try to focus on what's going on now. I will try to the best of my abilities to make write more often, but that is, as all things are, subject to change.

Third of all, this post takes place on a plane headed from JFK to Paris. I had been dying to write for so long on that plane, so I took out my laptop and started writing my next Traveling 'Nole post.
This is that post...

Saturday, January 9th, 2015

During the last few days of my visit in my hometown of Los Angeles, I was once again stupefied and slightly angered at how fast the time had gone (though it should come as no surprise that a mere 28 days would come and go a lot faster than 4 months abroad). While time had accelerated at unprecedented pace, I think what has bothered me the most is that saying “see yah later” a second time seemed significantly harder than the first time. I couldn’t place my finger on the reason as to why this was the case. Most people said that it was the 8 months ahead that separated the next time we would see each other. Of course, this makes perfect sense. But even so, I felt that something more was the cause for such an agonizing second goodbye.

The answer didn’t come to me until we were parked in a parking garage at LAX airport. It jumped at me in a way that contrasted my still, uneager motion sitting in the car. The reason as to why this goodbye––this seemingly familiar goodbye–– was even harder to do a second time is because we are returning to normalcy. This time, there is no adrenaline of going to a brand new place. The understandable (albeit, selfish) eagerness to start a new life was reserved for that very first time; yes, the “see you later’s” were still sad, but we had a new life waiting for us on the end of our long journey’s for home. Now, we return to a life that we’ve already started. There’s not much new to distract us, save for a few new faces coming in from Tally.

The sad truth is that we are now “visitors” in our own homes. Of course, we will (or at least, we should) always be welcomed in our homes. But our hometowns are now tokens of the past. The rooms we grew up in will always be our rooms, but at the same time, those have moved on like us: it isn’t just our room anymore. While I was home, my parents would always correct me when I casually (though absent mindfully) referred to Valencia as “home:”

“You are home,” they would tell me.

And they’re absolutely right. I am home. Only now, I visit that home on holidays after the semester is over. I was not wrong either. I have accepted Valencia, Spain as a home away from home; it is still home nonetheless. Perhaps it is this shift in normalcy that makes this goodbye so hard: the realization and affirmation that comfort has shifted. Maybe it is the length of time that will be gone. It could be that growing up and living life as an adult is becoming all too real. No matter what it is, please, do not misunderstand me. I am beyond excited to return to Valencia. To my FSU family, who have helped make the transition so much easier. To the town that bears the origin of my family name (oh yeah, the name Camacho originates in Valencia… so there’s that). To the land of stones left unturned, the cobblestone streets of Europe. To a life, while still so extraordinary, has become as ordinary as saying, “I am going home.”

‘Til Our Roads Meet,

Christian Camacho

The Traveling Nole