Nine Months in Madrid: March 2009

I never realized until now that letter writing is a form of self discovery. While writing a novel of a letter to my Grandma, I became surprised at some of the thoughts that got spilled onto the paper. Although it can be quite tedious trying to express yourself through the slow process of pen and paper, the end feeling is exhilarating. Similar to the feeling after a couple hours at the gym. And the physical image of several full pages of good ‘ol fashion handwriting is really kind of beautiful. It reminds me of grade school days when my teacher(s) took so seriously every cursive letter, and made us copy down pages of stories until our hands cramped and fingers turned purplish red. I feel somewhat guilty looking at my awkward mixture of sloppy cursive and printing, like somehow I’ve let them down after all those years of practice. I wonder if these days teachers are still so avid about teaching handwriting, for some reason I think not. Maybe I should feel lucky that I was born into a generation when computers where just becoming the next huge form of communication, and some people still appreciated the original forms of communication. One thing is for sure, the feeling of mystery and excitement that comes along with receiving a letter is something I have never felt with any email or sms.

The first page and a half of the letter to my Grandma:

Dearest Grandma,
I feel terrible that it had taken so long to write. Writing letters is extra hard for me, but I know they are so much more fulfilling than writing an email, not to mention much more exciting to receive. So I will try my best to express myself through pen and paper.
It’s hard to explain what this whole experience means to me. I would need someone inside my mind, knowing exactly what I’m thinking and feeling, for it to all make sense. Although you, of everybody I know, would understand best the need to explore the unknown. I’m not even sure myself what motivated me to come here. I wasn’t unhappy, I didn’t have any problems I needed to run-away from, even the fact that I would mostly likely become fluent in Spanish didn’t hit me until after I decided (it just seems like an added bonus). It’s like I had itchy feet. I wanted something I’d never had before-something new. I wanted to know I could be self-sufficient. To know that I don’t have to rely on somebody else to control how I feel. I wanted a cultured form of independence. A new way of life that I could explore and study and eventually conform to, on my own time. Although I have conformed, I am still very much an outsider, a stranger. I will always be “the girl from California”. I absolutely adore the people I’ve met here. They are unlike anyone else I will every meet, yet I will always feel like the “foreigner” to them. Which I’m okay with. In fact, I think I will feel similar with my friends from Santa Rosa when I return home. In my opinion, if you live in the same place for a long period of time, you start thinking that the rest of the world can’t be much different than your little corner. I think that’s how I was starting to feel before I left, but I knew in my heart that there was so, so much of the world to see, so much knowledge to gain and so many beautiful thing to appreciate outside of my little corner. So maybe I came here for proof of that. And now that I’ve lived as a student, daughter, friend and citizen in a foreign country, I will always have this secret knowledge that I won’t be able to relate to anyone who hasn’t experienced it for themselves. Of course I’ll share stories and memories with others, but they will never truly understand the difficulties, excitement, fear, happiness and all the crazy emotions and moments that I’ve experienced here. I know before I left people had they’re opinions about me being too young and unprepared to embark on a journey like this, but I think that if I was much older I wouldn’t have such an open perspective. It’s true that I have the majority of my life ahead of me to travel and explore, but I want to do that now, with the person I am now. Once I return home and this experience is behind me, in the past, I know that it will always be with me, part of me something that nobody can take away. And that is better than any prize I can think of-the feeling of completion and pride that I was able to free myself of everything I was comfortable with and survive. But don’t worry G-ma, I’m not all that changed, still your same ol’ Susie Bell, except with a nice Spanish vocabulary and a stronger sense of self. You know, none of this would have been possible without all the amazing people in my life, whom I have gained a profound respect for. It really is ridiculous how lucky I am, and I will never forget it.