I would rather be sitting in an office when I'm in my fifties, surrounded by the memories and adventures that I had in my younger years than struggling my whole life to have an adventure I can no longer enjoy.

Wanderlust

"Escapism, we are led to believe, is evidence of a deficiency in character, a certain failure of temperament, and like so many -isms, it is to be strenuously avoided. How do you expect to get ahead? people ask. But the question altogether misses the point. The escapist doesn’t want to get ahead. He simply wants to get away." J. Maarten Troost Getting Stoned with Savages

One thing I’ve heard from family and friends quite a bit after telling them of my plan to move to Spain is "Oh that’s great! Get it out of your system. Do it while you’re young. Then you can come back and settle down" As if wanting to travel was a sickness that has to be purged. An uncomfortable wanderlust that will go away with time, then real life can begin.

From what I’ve seen of the adult world in the six months since I graduated, I’m not sure I ever want it to.

Right now I work for the Florida House of Representatives, editing legislature and bills for the Clerk. In my time here I’ve come away with three important life lessons that have helped solidify the idea that I’m just not cut out for the real world.
1. You can have a considerable amount of mimosas on your lunch break and still function. For those of you who don’t know the sweet ambrosia that is a mimosa, let me enlighten you. A mimosa is an ingenious alcohol delivery system that is both acceptable as a midday drink and can pack a nice punch. Perfect for smoothing over the rough edges of your day and leaving you feeling flushed, smiling, and amicable to surly co-workers.

2. If you position your back at the correct angle to your cubicle door you can catch a quick 15 minute nap while appearing to be diligently poring over reports.

3. Upon entering a government building, don’t ever feign a look of nervousness, clutch your bag and slowly back away as the police officer ushers you through the metal detector. They tend not to have the greatest sense of humor.

Call me immature. I prefer to believe that life should be fun, exciting, and interesting. And if wanderlust is a disease, I’d rather not be cured.

 

The Schengen Visa

After rereading that last post I realized how discouraging it must be to people who are thinking about moving abroad. In an effort to make up for that I want to talk about one of the biggest hurdles you come up against when trying to join a language assistant program, the Schengen visa.

 

 



Much to my dismay, after the paperwork submitted for my initial interview with BEDA and the worrying about plane fares and selling off all worldly possessions before moving abroad, there's still one last (huge) step. Put simply the long-term student visa needed to stay in Spain longer than 6 months is a confusing purgatory littered with the bodies of those who simply give up and break under the strain of the process. The thing that makes it difficult is that NO ONE seems to know exactly which documents are needed or which sites to visit to get reliable information. There are only a few consulates in the U.S. and the majority of them require you to submit your documents in person. So, to give you an idea of how much a pain in the ass this is, if you live in say, South Carolina, you have to take all of your documents and physically bring them to the consulate in charge of your district. In Miami.

                                                                                 

 

The good news is, everyone who has been involved with these programs before you had to do this and are more than willing to help with any questions. I had planned originally on going in-depth into what exactly the requirements are and how to go about getting them done. But, the thing about writing is that someone before you has probably said it, and said it better. If you live in Florida, Georgia, or South Carolina take a look at Nicole's blog post about what the reqs. are and a great breakdown of what they cost. http://theperksofbeingawanderer.blogspot.com/2013/05/passport-to-paris-or-madrid.html

 

To set the actual visa appointment I used a third-party website. They charge a fee but it's only about six bucks and that was worth it for me not to have to sit on the phone for an hour listening to a Spanish rendition of My Heart Will Go On. http://www.vfsglobal.com/Spain/usa/Miami/

 

Right now I'm still in the process of getting everything together. My appointment is later on this month and I'll make sure to keep everyone posted on any issues that come up.





In the thick of it

     One of the biggest problems with this whole move is the paperwork. No one seems to know where this letter gets sent or what kind of background check you need, what number you call to get a human being on the line to talk about student loan deferment. It's easy to get discouraged. Lately I've been finding it harder and harder to picture myself in Spain. It was enough before, seeing myself hiking or drinking a beer in a café or travelling on a train. Now that all seems to be buried under mountains of forms. You start to realize, oh yah, this is why not many people uproot their lives to move to another country. It's not really the physical distance, or the money. Just the increasingly difficult acrobatics you have to perform to jump through their hoops. Time seems to move at two speeds: achingly slow or way too fast. When I think about the next three weeks without a day off, working at a desk all day then changing into my servers outfit, I just want it to fly by. Then I start checking off the days until my flight. With my bank account in the double digits and the list of things I still need to do, people I need to see, phone calls that need to be made...I want to sleep for a week.
    I'm in the thick of it now. But it will be over soon. A decision like this, an adventure like this, never happens when you've gotten plenty of sleep, are well rested and prepared. It kicks down your door when you've got one leg trapped in your jeans and your arms outstretched ready to fall.
    In three months I will be flying over the blue Atlantic, watching the sun rise over the Iberian peninsula, thousands of miles away from anyone that knows my name.