Farewell to Santander

I left yesterday to Madrid for a couple of days so I should consider this a late post but I'm not going to. Why? Because I had a migraine yesterday on the bus ride (6 hours) and I got sick because my head hurt so much. I'm not kidding you. I was wrapped around the porcelain throne like I was a noob on their twenty-first birthday. But I hadn't been drinking. And I definitely was not in a partying mood. Anyways, that's not the point. The point is I had a legit reason not to give a farewell on the appropriate day.

I also I know that I haven't written in a while. And the reason I haven't is because I was trying to enjoy my last couple days/weeks. It was great. I picked shells off the beaches and enjoyed the water and the sand. It was fantastic. And guess what? I even took a farewell picture.

But I'm not kidding. Santander, it's been real. I will miss you. I will miss my host-family, the food, the people, the streets, the beautiful shells that wash up, the way the concrete smells when it rains and it's fresh from traveling over the oceans. I know this isn't goodbye, it's only see you later. No adios, solamente hasta luego. As weird as this may sound for a male, but this place will always hold a little piece of my heart. Shit, I lived here. It wasn't for long but I lived here all the same. I absorbed bits and pieces of it into my being. I even say "Ay" when something happens or when I'm shocked I say "Ay Dios Mio." Yes I say that. And it's all my host family's fault. I say "Si, Si, Si," and "Bien, Bien, Bien" all the time. Why? Because, even though I only lived here for a little bit I let it fully overwhelm me. I was open to it. And that, my friends, is a beautiful thing.

Being able to say you went out of your comfort zone and tried something out of the ordinary in order to better yourself is beautiful. And anyone who says otherwise is ignorant. I feel there are parts of me that have completely done a 180, but you know what? I'm okay with that. I experienced something not a lot of people have. I was stretched to the limit of my patience and then some. I was stressed. I ate some weird food, then puked up that weird food (squid in it's own ink. Apparently it's a delicacy). I got too drunk and stumbled home leaning against the shoulders of new friends. I learned how to make authentic Sangria and Mojitos. I got topless at a beach. I buried my feet in the Spanish sand. I took a city taxi and spoke to the cabdriver by code switching (between English and Spanish mid-sentence). I took a nine hour flight and had swollen feet. I cried because I missed home; because I wanted to watch television in English, because I hadn't received even a hug from anyone in three months, because my bed here hurt my back, because I was missing halibut season back home, because I had a migraine... But you know what? Looking back, I still would have done it a million times over. Yeah I was homesick. But I was also 7000 (yes 7000) miles away from home. That's enough distance for anyone to long for the comfort of home. But I couldn't do that. Through that discomfort came growth.

It was beautiful. And I know this won't be the last time I put my feet in the Cantabria Sea. This won't be a real goodbye to my host-family. I will return here. Because like I said, a little piece of that place is now a part of me. And in order to make room for that new part of me, I needed to leave some of me behind. In order to visit that old me, I'll have to return. Because that part of me, will never be able to be a part of me ever again. Why? Because I like my trade. Also, I just need another excuse to come back.

Hasta Luego, Santander.