(#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In Spain, however, the myriad of Baseball parks has been replaced by an overwhelming number of Soccer fields.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

Hemos llegado (We've Arrived): The Ride In

FLIGHT ITINERARY:

LAX (Los Angeles, CA)- MIA (Miami, FL)- MAD (Madrid, Spain)- VLC (Valencia, Spain)

LAX: CAn You Believe It?

My wonderful, loving, and supportive family. Without them,
I certainly would never be here. Thank you guys so much.
 For everything.

When I got to LAX, I wasn't sure what to feel. On one hand, I was beyond excited to finally begin my four year journey with Florida State; on the other hand, I was devastated to be leaving behind so many loved ones: my friends, my city, my country, and (especially) my family. The day started with many tears of joy and sadness, but we all knew that we'd see each other very, very soon.

With my traveling companions, Brittney and Parker, we boarded the plane and were off, starting our journey to College. 

MIA: Thank God for Delayed FLights

Our plane arrived to the Miami International Airport at 5:00 pm ET, which was, to our surprise, a half hour earlier than we were supposed to be there. Expecting to get to our 6:35 pm flight to Madrid with plenty of time, we sat back in our seats and awaited the planes arrival to our gate... Boy, were we in for a big surprise. 

So, despite our early arrival, Florida's fabulously stormy weather had managed to keep all other planes at bay, preventing our plane from getting to the gate. An hour had passed (6:00 pm, for those keeping score at home) before we could even get out. They say the bulls that chase daring Spaniards in Pamplona can run up to 20 mph; but I think participants of the bull run would have been running too had they seen three hungry, tired teenagers with oversized backpacks and two guitars galloping across the Miami Airport, not unlike the bulls, to make it in time for their flight. 

But don't worry (which is easier to say now than it was in the moment), because the damned weather that had delayed several flights did not spare our flight to Madrid. Our departure time was moved to 7:20 pm. A sigh of relief was released. We met up with FSU Sophomore, Nick, and another FYA (First Year Abroad) student Christian N. at the gate.

We had a long 8 hours ahead of us, but we were happy to just be on the plane. 

The one question that kept circulating among us, though, was this:

"Could you imagine if we had missed that flight?"

MAD: MAdre de Dios! Hemos Llegado a España! (Mother of God! We Have Arrived to Spain!)

I know it's a little hard to see. But you can kind of
make out the geometric shapes. It looked great
from the plane.

Flying over Spain was flying over a huge Cubism painting. The fields and land plots looked like random geometric shapes and figures that would astound Picasso. Needless to say, I was breathless at my first glimpse of Spain.

But I hadn't slept a wink on the plane, despite several feeble attempts to do so. Let's do the math: I had spent about 13 hours on a plane, a total of about 15 or 16 hours traveling in general, with perhaps a measly hour or so of sleep. At this point, I was more excited to see the sleeping arrangements at the study centers than the town of Valencia. The five of us explored the Madrid airport before our 12:30 pm (Spanish-time) flight to Valencia; the last leg of the trip. Customs was a lot less stressful than I thought it would be (they literally just stamped the thing and shooed me away). It was at the gate for our flight where we met up with about twenty other FSU students with the same final destination. 

As if we had all suddenly become family, it was here that we boarded the flight to the city that we would all soon call our homes.

VLC: VÁle (Okay) Valencia.

The Valencia Airport.

This plane ride I was most excited for for several reasons: a) it was the shortest flight on our itinerary (only thirty-five minutes) and b) it would take me to the place that I had been anxiously awaiting to go to since I made the decision to go to FSU. On the plane ride there, I met María, a former resident of New York who was on her way to live with her new husband in Valencia. As I was looking for an overhead compartment on this miniature aircraft to put my traveler guitar in, she gave me a look that was just as confused as I was. María and I talk for the majority of the flight. From nightlife to locals to sites to see and visit, I could not have been more excited to get there.

When we finally landed, I couldn't help but just. Smile. I smiled the biggest smile any face had ever smiled before.

This was it. The Beginning. I can't wait to enjoy the Middle, and I hope the end will come when it has to. Just not too soon, please.

'Til our roads meet,
Christian Camacho

The Traveling 'Nole

Amigos (Friends): Where the Sidewalk Ends, and New Roads Begin (or the See Yah Later Post)

Friendships are priceless. No one can put a price tag on friendship. To do so would be to sell one's self short of the happiness a genuine friendship can provide at the incredibly low cost of one's love and appreciation....

This week has been an exceptionally hard week for me. I've had to say goodbye to friends, old and new, in such a short span of time. And even with the allotted amount of time that this busy Summer has given me, I didn't get the chance to say goodbye to everyone.

My good middle school friends, Austin and Boa.

I believe that the people one surrounds his/her/their self with are key to defining the kind of person one is. But if that's the case, then, oh boy, do I have a personality disorder. I have developed groups of friends so varied in character, it is hard to  believe they tell the same story: the story of me. Friendships vary from birth to now, but there are no two people whom I call my friends that are alike.

To me, that is the unique, incredible, and miraculous part about my friends: no matter how different they all are, they all contribute to how I have grown as a person in someway. I embrace difference: quirky, wild, passionate, stubborn, outspoken, recluse, innovative, clever, you name it, there's a someone who matches a different descriptor. I've had the pleasure of getting to know so many wonderful human beings who, I know, can amount to so much.

But where does the time go?

Like I said, it's been the hardest week so far. How do you say goodbye to so many people whom you have come to love so whole-heartedly, whom you admire, and who will go out on their own path? Simple. Well, the process is easier said then done, but the idea behind the process isn't too hard to grasp.

These guys have really helped me live. Thanks for the memories.

First, you understand that this is not really a goodbye, only "see yah later," and when you do see them again, you'll cherish that time even more. (Sorry that you had to hear that for the billionth and first time.) Goodbye has such a casual ubiquity about it. Everyone says it, and yet nobody means it. Which is great, but "see yah later" just sounds a lot sooner than "goodbye."

The irreplaceable Upward Bound Crew.

Second, you appreciate what everyone has taught you. My friends have expanded my world views, shown me new ways to look at situations, taught me how to love someone or a group of people, and most importantly how to love myself. These are lessons that no classes at any university, college, or community college can teach us. What a valuable resource.

Third, you learn to take what was given and apply it to the future. I haven't quite figured this one out yet, but I will let you know when I get there.

My incredible, blessed CORE team
at OLG.

Nick, my lifelong brother from another mother. 

Many people get caught up in the wrong crowd, but I'm so thankful and proud to say that I have kept up with the best of friends that anyone could have. A few friends have maybe gone a little off course, but I hope they consider me the right crowd.

La Frateli: the brothers.
You two will always be my brothers. 

"I would rather walk in the dark with a friend, than walk alone in the light."
~Helen Keller

ENCORE! The two guys I love
making music with.

Those who love you will stay and walk through the darkness, and those who remain superficial will only come when you have something they want, which is as good as having no one at all. I'd rather have that security in times of need than have no one to share high-standing achievements with.

Jess, Cam, Ember, and Abby; four women
I couldn't have suffered high school without.

Of course, leaving the company of such outstanding and amazing people comes with suffering. One can't help but feel lonely in the new the place they'll venture to or in the old place they'll stay without friends. But, as the wise Evans G. Valens said, "how lucky I am to have known somebody and something that saying goodbye to is so damned awful."

And I can't make a Silverstein reference (albeit an unintentional one) and not quote the poem itself.

Luke, my right hand man.

My dear Cam.

"Yes, we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow.
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the side walk ends."
~Shel Silverstein





Well, we're no longer children. Yet, somehow, we (kinda) know what we're doing.

I wish we could walk with a walk that was measured slower. But now is the next phase in our timeline; the next chapter in our book; the next book in our collection; the next step on the path that we chose when the "two roads diverged in a wood." (Frost) (I could go on all day with these, people.)

This is where our sidewalk ends, and new roads begin. See yah later.

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

Hogar (Home): Prologue

Los Torres de Serranos with FSU Study Center in the back.

Home.

Home is a nomadic, impermanent, and limitless concept. 

Nomadic, because home moves wherever we move (yes, yes a cliché, move on). Impermanent, because in the midst of human conflict and calamity, change is inexorable. And limitless, because home can be whatever you want it to be.

(Eat your heart out, Hallmark reading cards)

After having the luxury of being born and raised for 18 years in Reseda, California, the longevity that is now my adult life, home is now changing. I have had several concepts of home over these 18 years: California, The San Fernando Valley, School, and, of course, my house that has been the Camacho household for the past 19 or 20 years (all I know is that I came 2 years after).

California has and always will be my home. When I started the college application process, I could have sworn that I'd attend a university in California, whether it was CSUN (California State University, Northridge) or San Francisco State University. Several out-of-state opportunities presented themselves to me (namely, being a finalist for the POSSE Scholarship, Dickinson College). I chose Florida State University, not just because of my dad's unexplainable 20+ year love affair with the University, or its (in)famous Football program, but because I felt it was the home I had wanted my entire life.

In all honesty, the real kicker for me was the First Year Abroad (FYA) Program, where I could choose to study abroad as a Freshman from one of four International locations: Panama; London, England; Florence, Italy; or Valencia, Spain. Being of Latin decent, Spain would be the perfect home to hon my Spanish speaking skills and become immersed in a new culture. 

I recently made a new home, prior to and following orientation at FSU. Through social media and GroupMe, I've already established great friends on the other side of the country, a roommate from Georgia, and a great friend who has shared California as a home with me. This home is with people I will be spending the next four years or so with.

My home is Nomadic. I will take pieces of my home that cannot be separated from me (memories and the person I have become) to Valencia, Spain and make new homes along the way. 

My home is Impermanent. I will have to return from Europe to Tallahassee, Florida (from here on, now known as "Tally") and leave the home(s) I've made. 

But that's okay, because my home is also Limitless. Tally and Florida State University will become my new home, and I will always have the ones I left behind, be it in Spain, London, Florence, Paris, Panama, Rome, and especially Reseda, California.

Home to me is where one feels most comfortable.

My favorite lines from one of my favorite poems go:

"I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I––
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."

The Road Not Taken~ Robert Frost

My fellow Florida State FYA's and I have taken a road less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

'Til our roads meet,

Chris Camacho

The Traveling 'Nole