Barthelona

This little trip to Spain almost didn’t happen. At first we planned to leave Wednesday night of March 21st because Mark and I didn’t have class on Thursday. Then Mark remembered he had play practice Wednesday night, so we pushed back our time of departure to Thursday morning. Then I got called in to go to the kindergarten in town and we had to push back our time of departure again. So our plan was leave Thursday afternoon, get into Budapest Thursday night, stay at a hostel, get a cab to the airport super early and fly into Barcelona Friday morning. So we’d have Friday and Saturday and fly out early Sunday morning back into Budapest. Our other problem was that we had waited super long to buy our plane tickets, and they had definitely gone up in price. Also, the next weekend began our 10 day break, and I was leading a mission trip the first part. I didn’t know if I should be going on a trip so close to mission. But we threw caution to the wind, pulled out our passports and bought our plane tickets, packed our bags and headed to Budapest… Just me and Mark.

And let me tell you, it was one of the best trips of the semester. But I get ahead of myself.

The trip to Budapest went by flawlessly. We hopped from train to train and slept a little and worked on homework a little and talked a little. It’s so easy to travel with just one other person… We made it to Budapest and took the metro to the stop where our hostel was. From there we really had no idea where to go. We stopped in a little bakery and asked for directions. After a little bit of searching we found it. It was one of those that you go through the big door/gate thing into a courtyard of sorts and then up a bunch of windy stairs and finally you reach the door to the hostel.

It was a super cheap hostel. And we slept in a room with like 10 other people or something. The majority of the people there were American, which was funny. The man at the front desk was Italian though. We were able to call for a taxi to come get us at like 4:30 am the next morning and there was a computer so we looked up directions to our hostel and emailed Marta to get directions into the city from the airport. We went to bed around 11 or so and woke up at 3:45 am. Not much sleep at all… We stealthily tried to make it out of the room without waking anyone. We stumbled down half of the windy stairs in the dark before realizing we had a flashlight on our phones. And finally made it out to the taxi.

We made it to the airport but the wrong terminal. There were only two though… So we trudged to the other one. Having no idea what to do with our tickets or anything, we go to security. He scans it and we proceed through the line. I was stopped and patted down like I’ve never been patted down before. Pretty sure it was my consecration chain… I started giggling when she did the two fingers around my pant line because it tickled so bad. She’s probably like, “Dumb ticklish American…” But anyway, we made it through and got to our terminal. Thinking we were way ahead of schedule we chilled. Finally I looked at the ticket again feeling a sense of unease at the fact that this had all been too easy, and realized it said we needed a stamp of some sort. Grabbing our bags and making our way back to the main desk we discussed how ridiculous airports were and how much we hate them.

After minutes of not knowing what to do we hopped into a service line and got the stamp we needed. Heading back to through security it had tripled in size and we were worried now. We were escorted to a different line and luckily made it through without the tickling this time. We made it to our gate with time to spare and were even able to get seats next to each other on the plane. You see, ryanair is a great airline because it’s super cheap. But it’s crazy about baggage size and it doesn’t give you an assigned seat, so it’s first come, first serve.

Almost as soon as we got into our seats we passed out. Four hours in a hostel bed had not prepared us for our already stressful day of traveling. We finally landed in Barcelona and we were so excited. Looking back we had only finished like 5% of our traveling for the day. We landed around 9 am.

Jumping off the plane and removing some layers, as it was already significantly warmer than Budapest, we made our way to the train Marta had told us to take into the city. Her directions were flawless and we made our way to the train easily. We bought a 10 trip pass and hopped on. There was a team of I’m guessing soccer players and they were singing, or chanting, or yelling, but it was really cool. We made our way to one of the back cars though. And soon after we sat down a man came back and played his violin for us. “A Whole New World.” Fitting, as we had just made our way to another country. We easily made it to our stop and hopped on the metro per Marta’s instructions.

When we finally reached our last stop was where our problems started. Having not eaten all day and sleeping fitfully for probs a total of 5 and 1/2 hours we meandered down the street… turns out, the wrong way. It was all down hill too, which meant that we had to turn around and trek back uphill to get back to square one. The bank in which we stopped basically looked as us like we were crazy and told us we were completely on the wrong side of town. Determined to walk there we set off again, this time in the right direction.

Barcelona graced us with the most difficult hills and steps we’d climbed since Assisi. All with a huge bag. So we kept walking and looking at street signs and getting more lost by the minute, but still determined to keep walking. A construction worker obviously seeing that we were struggling came over and I used my very little Spanish to see if he could help us. Good thing I new my directions… Eventually, we made it to our hostel. It was about 11:30 am and we still hadn’t eaten… We were slowly fading.

We put our bags into storage as we couldn’t check in until later and freshened up a little. We got a map and looked up some places we thought we might want to go. Marta met us at our hostel around noon. It was so good to see her. As soon as we found her I felt at ease. I knew everything would be taken care of from now on. She would be in control of our day and be able to talk to everyone and communicate for us. This was going to be a great trip, even if I was half dead at the time.

Marta, sensing our half dead-ness, asked us what we wanted for lunch. Seeing as it was a Friday in lent we had to go with the no meat option. I had a calamari bocadillo and it was soooo good. (Could have been because of my ravenous state, or it might have just been that good.) We also had some super yummy champagne which I can’t remember what it’s called right now… But it was a good lunch and after, Mark and I were finally ready to see some stuff.

Our hostel was seriously on a hill though, so we trudged back down our big hill to get to take the metro to get into the heart of Barcelona. We walked around all day. We saw the cathedral, the house Gaudi built to look like a dragon, the oldest house on the street, the city center, what remains of the Roman walls, statues, Sagrada Familia, cute little stores. It was a busy day. But it was a fun day. Towards the end of the day we made our way back to our hostel before going out for dinner and drinks. In Spain, dinner is typically around like 8 pm and drinks are after.

We went out for tapas that night for dinner. Unfortunately since it was still Friday it was all meatless, but still super tasty. And after we went to one of Marta’s friend’s bars. I got some made up drink called the drunk monkey or something Mark got some fruity drink, as per usual. It was probably around 10 pm. Not super late. But Mark and I were sitting at the bar, sipping our drinks and mumbling to each other because we were so exhausted. By then we had been up for like 18 hours, and had been walking all day. Needless to say, we were falling asleep. Like legit. We sat down with Marta and her friends and I was talking to Marta and her friends were talking and Mark was in the middle. I look over in the middle of our conversation and Mark is out. Asleep, gone. And I knew it was time to make our way back to our hostel.

The problem with that idea was, on top of being super duper sleepy, we were also intoxicated. These were the strongest drinks I’ve ever had. And so we were stumbling around, longing to lay down on the sidewalk to sleep… Finally, eventually, somehow we made it back to our hostel. The next day was going to be packed with sight seeing as it was our only full day in the city. We were going to go up to a church at the top of this mountain and then to see some of the houses Gaudi created. So we slept just a little and were up and at it again.

Believing the hostel offered free breakfast we walked to the kitchen and started grabbing food, the lady comes up to us and asks us for 2 euro. Completely stunned we dropped everything and walked out of the hostel. Hah. We made our way to a bakery and bought ourselves some yummy pastries for breakfast and ate them on the metro on the way to meet Marta.

Our goal was Tibidabo. There’s a church up there, but right next to it is a crazy amusement park. And after finding out we had to buy tickets to the park in order to get to the church we said screw that and decided on finding our own way up. We took a bunch of different buses trying to make our way to the top. When we finally decided it was impossible to make it up there we hopped off the bus and walked around a bit. Having no idea where we were, we meandered down some road and then another. We came across a soccer field and a soccer tournament was going on. And I mean, when in Spain right?

So we took out our packed lunches and our huge 2 liter of coke and sat down to watch some soccer. It was awesome. No, I didn’t see an amazing team play, I didn’t see any intense plays, but I can say that I watched a soccer game in Spain. An authentic soccer game. It was great. One of the best memories I have, why? Because it was so random and sporadic. We finished our lunches, cheered for both teams and made our way back down this hill by bus.

We were off to see Marta’s favorite park, or one of them at least. Park Guell. At the entrance of the park there are two houses, affectionately called the “Hansel” and “Gretel” houses. At least, that’s what we called them. And then Gaudi’s house was also situated towards the back of the park. Before going to the park we stopped to buy some strawberries to enjoy, they were super cheap and looked delicious. We went into the park, took dozens of pictures and then sat at the benches overlooking the two houses and the city in the background. I had brought a big bar of milka, so we ate the strawberries and milka together. We pretended they were chocolate covered. It was super good nonetheless. After our snack, we continued on, enjoying the park and the flowers and each others company. Super chill.

At long last the Mediterranean was calling our name and we listened to its plea for company. We made our way to the beach where we were warned of the naked man. We sat down in the sand. There were tons of people walking around trying to get us to buy water, beer, massages, anything. It was obnoxious, and then we spotted the naked man. Haha. It was a good time though. The weather was not too hot and not too cold. It was just right.

After our time at the beach we made our way back into the city so we could catch mass at the cathedral. After mass we went out to find the courtyard filled with people. All dancing. I don’t remember what the dance was called, but it was super easy and anyone could join if they wanted to. They had a live band playing and everything. It was awesome to see all those people coming together to dance and hang out. It wasn’t as if they all knew each other either, strangers, family and friends all dancing. My kind of party.

We walked on past some super adorable street vendors and made our way to a place for dinner. Marta ate with her host family and Mark and I ate at this kebab place. We both had kebab bocadillos. So a mix of what we love with what was local. Hah. It was great. We just hung out and talked about the weekend so far and lots of other things. Marta met up with us after she was done and we went to find a place to have some drinks.

We finally settled on this bar called Zombie or something like that. I ordered what I knew, an amaretto sour and I wasn’t disappointed. It was super yummy. Some time in the middle of enjoying drinks, the bar tender brought us some shots. Having no idea what they were, we of course smelled them and then throwing caution to the wind, downed them pretty fast. They were delicious! I’m still convinced there was no alcohol in them… But they were super yummy. And as the night dragged on I became more and more aware of the fact that we needed to get up early for our flight tomorrow.

We said goodbye to Marta and took one final picture with our amazing host for the weekend and made our way back to the hostel. We got lost, no surprise and it took us FOREVER to get back. It was only 11 pm on a Saturday in Barcelona and already all of the Americans were alseep… We were shocked. When we were “too loud” for them they rolled over and yelled at us. The next morning was daylight savings time, we were losing an hour. Checking and double checking our watches and clocks we thought we were all ready.

We weren’t… We woke up an hour late and in a mad scramble to check out of the hostel we probably woke up every guest. We didn’t care. We checked out and ran out of the building. I was pissed, and then I fell. Looking back I can’t help but burst into laughter. But at the time I was so pissed. Mark did the right thing by not laughing at the time. We realized we had already missed the train that would take us to the airport. In a mad scramble of not knowing what to do we decided on a taxi. I’m glad we did. We saw parts of Barcelona we hadn’t gotten a chance to see in the beautiful first rays of light.

We made it to the airport and through security with ease. Making sure that our tickets were stamped correctly this time. We sat ready to board with our bags packed to the brim with clothes and souvenirs. We watched the sun rise through the high windows and talked about how we would be traveling through three countries in one day. World travelers.

Our flight to Budapest went over without a hitch. But now it was all about trying to get from the airport to the train station. After finally figuring out the bus and then figuring out the metro we finally made it to the train station. We bought our tickets and went to a near by store to buy some food for the ride home. By the time we made it back to the station our train was already waiting for us. We hopped on and I changed into some comfortable traveling clothes and we dug into the food we had just bought.

The train ride back to Austria was about the same as the train ride to Budapest. We slept and did homework. Read and talked about the weekend. I was again thankful to only have one travel companion. We made it back to the Kartause safely and were super happy to see our friends and talk about our weekend adventure. That Sunday we had been in three different countries, we had seen the sun rise in one and set in another, we had taken every mode of transportation except for a boat and bicycle. It was a day for the books. And I was exhausted.

As I stated before, this was one of my favorite trips. Laid back and yet exciting. I loved Spain. There is so much we didn’t get to see or do which makes me ache to go back some day. The week after this trip was full of mission planning. Making sure everything was in order for our big mission trip. My best friend was flying in on Thursday and I could not have been more excited to see her.

My next blog is going to be another super long one as it will cover all 10 days of my trip. 5 in Romania and 5 in Paris. 

 

My Prague Blog

After 10 days of traveling you hardly want to do anything. Seriously. Recovery days are by far the best thing God ever created for Franciscan students. At the same time you are always wanting to travel. Make the most of your time while you are in Europe. So this weekend I went to Prague. But I only went for a day with the school. And it was such a great little trip.

We woke up at 4:30 in the morning on Saturday March 17^th. It was a hard thing to do after going to bed late because of a movie date with Katie and Jen. We slept for about 3 ½ maybe 4 hours before having to get up. We left at 5 AM and got to Prague around 10 in the morning. It was difficult to sleep on the bus. It was suuuper cold and uncomfortable. We stopped at Mc.Donalds for a while at some point too.

We were given a map and a time and place to meet to leave and let go into the city of Prague. Our first item we wanted to see was the clock. There is this special astronomical clock in Prague. Prague Orloj is also how it’s called. It was first installed in 1410, making it the third astronomical clock in the world, and the oldest one still working.  It has three main parts; the astronomical dial, a clockwork hourly show with moving sculptures, and a calendar dial representing the months. It took us a while, but we finally wandered into the city square. It was St. Patrick’s day and the Irish pubs were already crawling with excited tourists. Bands played in the square and children danced to the music while teenagers layed around and smoked. It was pretty relaxed. We stood around listening to the music and taking in the sun. We took pictures of the clock and the massive dogs we saw along the way. We got huge bags of candy and set off to find the Charles Bridge. It was the most important connection between the Prague Castle to the Old Town.

It was a pretty cool bridge. Tons of sculptures lining the walkway and a lot of little vendors mixed with music groups entertaining and tempting us to buy little trinkets. On the other side of the bridge we knew we had to see the infant of Prague. But first thing was first, lunch.

We found a little café and Mark and I bought huge burgers with french fries. I ate it all. I was so hungry. We sat in the café watching customers come and go and talking to each other about what else we wanted to do before our time was up. Eventually we meandered out into the street in search of the church.

It was pretty easy to find and was really beautiful both on the outside and inside. As you walk in, you might expect the infant to be front and center, but that’s not the case. The precious infant is on the side. Just a little thing, adorned in beautiful clothes and shielded by a glass case. One arm raised in blessing. If you don’t know anything about the infant of Prague, here’s a bit of history:

“The Infant Jesus of Prague originally came from Spain. The legend tells that the Infant Jesus appeared miraculously to a certain monk, who modelled the statue based on the appearance of the apparition. According to another legend the statue belonged to St. Teresa of Avila, the founder of the Discalced Carmelites, who was aflame with a great love for the Child Jesus. She is said to have given the statue to a friend of hers, whose daughter was setting out to travel to Prague.

When the Duchess Maria Manrique de Lara came to Bohemia to marry a Bohemian nobleman in 1556, she received the statue from her mother as a wedding gift. When her daughter Polyxena of Lobkowicz was widowed, she gave the precious statue to the monastery of the Discalced Carmelites attached to the church of Our Lady of Victory in 1628.

The Carmelites placed the statue in the novitiate chapel, so that the young monks could learn from the virtues of the Child Jesus. At that time the Thirty Years’ War was raging through Europe and even the Infant Jesus was not spared when the Saxon army occupied Prague in 1631. It was only after his return to Prague in 1637 that Father Cyril of the Mother of God, originally from Luxemburg, discovered the statue, abandoned in a corner. To his sorrow, however, he found that the Infant Jesus had had both hands broken off. At this moment it seemed to him that the Infant Jesus was saying to him:

Have mercy on me and I will have mercy on you.
Give me hands and I will give you peace.
The more you honour me, the more I will bless you.

Eventually Father Cyril had new hands made for the Infant Jesus. The gold coin invested in this was returned many times over, as the Child Jesus began to bless the monastery, the local people, and the whole of Prague. Miraculous healings were attributed to him, as was the protection of Prague when it was laid siege to by the Swedes in 1639. In 1651 the statue was carried as a pilgrim round all the churches in Prague and in 1655 it was solemnly crowned by the Bishop of Prague. This event is still remembered today on the anniversary feast-day, falling on the first Sunday in May.”

After we saw the beautiful infant of Prague we decided to go to the Lennon wall. Which turned out to be this huge graffitied wall. And I, of course, was in love. Graffiti is probably one of my favorite things ever. I don’t know why, but I find it absolutely beautiful. There were so many messages about love and peace, so many quotes and sketches. I couldn’t stop taking pictures. We wandered along and found a bridge full of locks. This is quickly becoming one of my favorite things about Europe and traveling. Stumbling upon a bridge covered in locks. I probably look ridiculous taking so many pictures, but hey, I like it.

We walked back toward the bridges and found a little spot under a tree to hang out before we headed back over to the busy side of town. We talked and made fun of each other and told stories and played stupid games. And finally it was time to head back over. Once back on the busy side of town we walked around the block a few times, saw some big monuments lit by flood lights and took some night pictures.

We said goodbye to Mark as he was staying the night, but we were going back with the school. We walked to a little shop, slightly embarrassed by the fact that we hadn’t drank at all on St. Patrick’s day… But we couldn’t find what we were looking for and figured we were too poor anyway. Heading back to the bus we climbed on and talked to our peers about what we did. We all basically did the same things. I was a little bummed that we didn’t get to go to an Irish pub, but they were jam packed. It was impossible.

On the drive back we stopped again at Mc. Donalds and then headed back to the Kartause. We got back around one in the morning. We had almost been awake for a full 24 hours. I stayed up until 3:30 just so I could say I was up for 24 hours. The next day was Sunday and it was such a chill day. Just hanging out and relaxing. And waiting for others to come back from their weekends. It was a chill weekend. And it was really cool to get another country in. Even if it was only for one day.

The next weekend was the weekend before 10 day and so many people decided to stay back. Mark and I went to Spain to visit my friend studying there. It was just the two of us traveling and it was such a great trip. Super chill. I’m excited to blog about that one.

But for now, I hope you enjoyed my little tiny day trip to Prague. I know I did.

 

Here’s To Us

“My theory is about moments, moments of impact. My theory is that these moments of impact, these flashes of high intensity that completely turn our lives upside down actually end up defining who we are. The thing is each one of us is the sum total of every moment that we’ve ever experienced with all the people we’ve ever known. And it’s these moments that become our history. Like our own personal greatest hits of memories that we play and replay in our minds over and over again”

Know that I completely apologize. I had the lofty goal of keeping a blog for all of my countries. And I was doing so gosh darn well, and then suddenly time ran away. Countries were coming and going and I was busy with classes and homework and friends and enjoying the Kartause. So I do indeed apologize that I never wrote about Prague, Spain, Romania/France or Bosnia. But! Fear not. Over the next month I do plan on reflecting on these trips and writing about them. I need to document them anyway. In a way this is better, now you will be able to go back with me. You will be able to read about my fondest memories of my last visits and enjoy my challenges, my fun times and the end of my journey abroad.

Why do I write? Sometimes I question myself on that. But then I realize that I write for myself. I love to read my writing. Maybe that’s narcissistic of me, but I love my writing. When I write I try to write with precision. I try to articulate as best I can with words what I feel, what I want and what I experience. Words are such a great thing. I am good with them. I know that. I’m good at fitting words together to make them beautiful, touching, or ugly, angry. Words give all of us power. It’s up to us how we use our words. In this blog I hope that I have taken you all on a journey. I hope that I have allowed you to live my dream with me. I hope that I have made you feel things through my writing. I write for myself, but I also write for you.

At the top of this blog is one of my favorite quotes. It’s from The Vow. I watched it on the plane back from Europe and of course fell in love with the words that make up this quote. “Moments of Impact.” That is so true. Our life is made up of moments. Moments happen and we respond to them. That’s what makes life. Moments and reactions. My whole semester was moments. Moments on trains, in churches, along bodies of water, near friends. What makes those moments memorable is the way I responded to them. Life is about response.

As my semester went from months into weeks into mere days and then simply hours I reflected on my semester and longed to capture the right words to explain my semester abroad. I wrote little bits here and there, on my laptop, in a journal, during class. None of those pieces can be put together to make sense. Those pieces are all words felt from different parts of the heart. I can take bits from each one, but I can’t piece them together. I’ll write a little bit of what I wrote:

“Moments, courage and love are the three words that sum up my entire semester abroad. Gaming, Austria has blessed me with life changing moments. Moments with new people, moments with new places and moments with new challenges. Every moment has been a chance to grow in faith. Every moment has been taken with a leap of faith. Accompanied by courage. “20 seconds of insane courage. That’s all it takes. 20 seconds of embarrassing courage. And I promise something great will come of it.” My semester can be measured by these 20 seconds of courage. These 20 seconds of courage that ended up making 110 days. 1/3 of 2012 for me has been spent in foreign countries. Out of my comfort zone and far from family. These 110 days have been blessed with many beautiful and amazing people. Every word, every prayer, every meal with these people has been something worth remembering. An adventure of a lifetime takes courage of the century.”–That was written on the plane from London to Washington D.C.

“Life changing seems like an understatement. Life giving. That’s what my semester abroad was. Life was given to me rather than changed. Not only life for myself, but others’ lives were given to me. In these four months I became part of some 130+ lives. 130+ lives were also given to me. I got to experience life in a way so many people don’t. I got to experience life with life. That sounds ridiculous and confusing, but everyone’s life was connected in Austria. We all had each others back. All for One and One for All. We are.” –That was written the day after I got back to the U.S.

There’s more. I wrote more. I wrote letters to people that I will never give them. I wrote goodbyes to inanimate objects; such as the broken tiles that click and clack under the red rug as you walk along the hallway to the Kolbe classroom… And so on.

I like to think that this isn’t the end but the beginning. I met so many beautiful people, did so many adventurous things and  went to so many amazing countries. There is going to be a reunion in 2016 and how awesome would it be to go back to the Kartause!? I really think I’m going to start saving now and make it back there. It’s hard to say goodbye. It always is.

Driving away from the Kartause half asleep and super sad at 3 in the morning is one of the moments that I will always remember. At the time it felt like we were all just going on another school trip. That we would be back soon. That it was only a weekend away from the Kartause. It wasn’t until I fell asleep and woke up at the airport when I realized this was a real goodbye. Every country I went to I had to say goodbye. Those goodbyes were not as hard as the Kartause goodbye. It’s leaving a third of your life behind.

It’s saying goodbye to the rooms where you learned about the transformation of love, the hundred years war, the ten commandments, modern art, how the stars work, what it means to be married, how to read the bible, what divine mercy is… etc. It’s saying goodbye to the bed you slept in, the room you cried in, the roommate you shared your worries with, the closet you kept your clothes, the window you stuck your head out of to see the mountains surrounding you. More than that, it’s saying goodbye to Gaming. To the bar where the guy creeped you out every night, to the creek that took your breath away, literally, to the waterfall with the best water ever, to the signs that say “No Gaming”, to the Kebap shop where the owner definitely doesn’t know Spanish, to the store that sells alcohol and chocolate one aisle apart, to the bank where the ATM was frequented almost every week, and to the bus stop that was always the first stop in a weekend adventure.

I didn’t cry until the semester DVD, after that I didn’t cry until we flew out of London. Becca, Emily and I all sat in the row and held hands listening to “Coming Home” and “Here’s to Us” and bawling our eyes out. I’m sure we looked crazy. I’m sure people stared, and I didn’t care. I sobbed. Literally. The kind where you can’t catch your breath. The ugly cry. That was me. I think I cried out of exhaustion mixed with sorrow. It was leaving four months behind. It was saying goodbye to one of the most important semesters of my life. It was leaving people that changed my life for the better. It was leaving everyone that made the semester what it was. That was difficult to deal with.

Going back to campus at Franciscan was such a great transition from Austria to America. Many of my peers that were in Austria with me came back to campus. So seeing familiar faces comforted me so much. Giving understanding nods around campus to people that understood how I was feeling being so far away from the Kartause. It was also good to see the girls that I left that would be in Austria next semester. Seeing the girls that I took under my wing first semester, and realizing how much they’ve grown in wisdom and love was such a beautiful gift. Giving them advice and talking a little about my adventures made me feel important and it also helps that I know exactly where they will be next semester. I know what they will be feeling and where they will be going. I’ll miss those babes, but what a blessing to be able to see them before they left.

Being home is a blessing. I’m back with my littles. They are the most precious things ever. I am so thankful for them in my life. Tonight my brother gets confirmed and I am his sponsor. I couldn’t be more excited to stand next to him as he chooses for himself the Catholic faith for the rest of his life. Everyone has grown since I’ve been gone. It’s so great to be back with them and to see how they’ve grown in love and courage and knowledge. They are all so beautiful and I’m so happy to be back with them. This summer is going to be fast. It’s going to be difficult. It’s going to be different. It’s going to be a summer of growth and development for myself. I hope that within it things sort themselves out. That’s vague, but some understand that statement… I know this summer will be interesting. Unexpected and saturated with the love of my family and the joys of self discovery.

Thank God for a beautiful semester abroad. Thank God for all of the opportunities I had. Thank God for my friends and classmates. And Thank God for my family. Times are changing, yet again. Bring on the next third of 2012, the summer.