So I took another trip...

"Ashlyn, viajas más que alguien en Cedeira..." {Ashlyn, you travel more than anyone in Cedeira.} This statement as well as similar things like, "You have ANOTHER trip?" have frequented the conversations with my friends, soccer teammates/coaches, host family, or generally anyone I meet recently. Why? Well, I may or may not have gone to Barcelona a week ago... And am planning for sure 2 more trips before the end of the year cruise. Phew, I have a lot to do in not so much time. God has blessed me beyond measure that I have the opportunity to do this much traveling and be able to communicate with people wherever I go in Spain. Without further adieu, PICTURES AND UPDATES ABOUT BARCELONA!

Parque Güell

Parque Güell

National Barcelona Museum

Pyrenees Mountains

More mountains

Sagrada Familia

Sagrada Familia

Sagrada Familia

Sagrada

The infamous dragon of Parque Güell

The lovely Alisa and me! Go Minnesota!

JOE!! Minnesotans!

Regarding the last picture, how could I go to Barcelona and not see Joe?! He is also from Minnesota and I have not seen him all year so it was so great to see him and spend time with him, catching up and exploring! I can definitely say that I really enjoyed Barcelona and it ranks right up in my best trips with Granada and Tenerife. Barcelona is set up so there is a metro in the main city and trains going to all its suburbs but a lot of the suburbs are along the coast aka beaches everywhere. The Pyrenees mountains are also relatively close (3 hour train ride away.)

Sadly, I was only in Barcelona from late Friday night (I got to the house at 1:00AM) until Monday morning (my flight left at 12:30PM.) Friday night, Joe picked me up at the airport and made sure I got on the right train to go to the house I was staying at. Rodolfo, my district's president, was kind enough to let 6 other girls and me stay in his vacation house in Barcelona, so thank you, Rodolfo! Saturday morning, I got up nice and early and the girls split into 2 groups. Alisa, Robin, and I clumped together and took a train to the city center to do touristy things (typical.) Joe showed us around and we walked through Parque Guell, got lunch, took a nap in a park, and went to the museum. I taught Joe the game my sister and I play at museums which consists of acting out the art and taking pictures. We got a lot of weird looks, but it was hilarious. 

The next day, all the girls went to go run the Color Run and I opted out so Joe and I could explore the Pyrenees mountains. When we got to the little town at our stop, he showed me around and we picked up some food for a picnic and started our adventure! In the end, we did not begin to climb any mountain but walked the valley and on the trails which took us across the Spanish border into France. Along the way, we were stopped by a man speaking French to us (which neither Joe nor I speak) asking for directions. We asked if he knew Spanish, which he did not, and we got nervous and talked to each other in English, which the man understood! So we gave him directions in English and come to find out he is actually from Germany hiking through the mountains over 3 weeks. Eventually, we got back on a train to go back home. 

Monday morning, I decided I wanted to see La Sagrada Familia so bad that I got up early and hopped on the train and metro to do a tour there. To say the least, pictures do the church no justice and it is absolutely beautiful. It is absolutely huge and it baffles me that someone thought of the idea to construct it, let alone it was constructed! Joe picked me up after and made sure I was on the right train to the airport and we said our goodbyes. I can't wait to have the whole Minnesota-Spain exchange student gang reunited when we go home!

Perhaps you noticed, or not so now I will point it out for you, that I did a lot of public transport... ALONE. I can confidently say that now I have navigated the Madrid trains, Barcelona trains/metro, trains and buses in Galicia, and getting to my own gate at an airport knowing no one was waiting for me in case something went wrong, I don't really fear traveling by any mode of transportation alone anymore. I can tell you in those moments I was panicking and wanted to cry (that may have happened once,) but I had to remind myself that I am capable of asking directions in two languages and if I want to travel the world one day, traveling alone is inevitable. I am almost 19, right? If I can willingly leave my country for 10 months where I don't know anyone or anything, then riding the train in hopefully the right direction shouldn't be too hard. 

Last night, I was recommended by my small group leader back home to watch the sermon and I was so excited about it (and that they filmed the worship portion) that I watched it until 2:30AM. So worth it. And have I missed church. That will for sure be one of the first places I visit when I go home. To be in the welcoming community that I grew up in (at least since 4th grade) and in a house of God is something I have been craving since I left for my adventure in September. The friends, music, pastors, sitting in front row at the 5:00 Elements service on a warm summer day, praying with other people, sneaking half a bagel on Sunday morning from the worship office, leading a group of 3rd grade and 6th/7th/8th grade girls, going to Bible studies with the college-age ministry, I MISS IT ALL. So if you go to Westwood, don't be surprised if you see me either running around elated or staring wide eyed with a smile plastered to my face (or both perhaps) come July. Don't get me wrong, God never left me and nor have I left Him, but there is something special about being in fellowship and in a place specifically designated for God and fulfilling His mission for us.
It's refreshing and renewing and strengthening. It is good.

~Ashlyn

Home?

"Home is where the heart is."

That is a phrase you can find on a plaque or decoratively painted piece of wood to hang in your kitchen or hallway in nearly every home decorating store. I completely agree with this phrase, home is where the heart is; however the implications of it are so much larger than most realize and our hearts do not thrive when confined to a structure. Speaking of which, this structure can't stand up to Mother Nature when she releases her wrath in forms of tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, lightning strikes, termite infestation, etc. So why would we place our hearts somewhere that can't stand up to the storm? 

I think what this phrase really begs of us is to ask ourselves, "Where is my home? What defines home?" According to dictionary.com, 'Home' is "the place or region where something is native or most common." It is true, we call those shelters we grew up in or currently live in 'home' because we are very comfortable there such as not minding walking around in a towel and wet hair or raiding the refrigerator in the early morning hours. Technically though we could also consider our bodies our 'homes.' Only you understand your body the most of anyone else: your pain tolerance, the best sleeping position, and how cold -30ºF or 100ºF really is (for Minnesotans, that would be a slightly chilly winter day and a I-can-finally-pack-away-my-sweaters indicator.) So if our bodies can be our homes, couldn't someone else's body also do the same?

For me, my home rests in three main groups: friends, family, and God. Going off of my previous paragraph and definition of home, I would say that my best friends know me almost as well as my self. They have been with my through breakups, getting accepted into college, leaving the country, and all the adventures in between. We get into arguments like my sister and I, and will in fact ignore each other because we are mad. But we always make up because that's what best friends do, they are like family to me. I call their parents "mom" and "dad" and rarely knock on their doors anymore, but let myself into their houses because their homes are my homes. They are so similar to me (which is why we fight a lot) which helps me establish a home within them. 

The only problem with this is that some of my good friends or friends in general live in other countries: South Africa, Sweden, Norway, Germany, Holland, Spain or this year I have met people from other countries like Taiwan, Canada, and India. Not to mention the various states we all come from: Minnesota, Iowa, Michigan, Pennsylvania, Washington, Oregon, New York, California, etc. The two other Rotary exchange students from my club who have come to be some of my best friends currently live in Paraguay and Belgium. To say the least, my heart is being placed in many different places in the world. Good motivation to travel, but I never completely feel right if I am not with those international friends. After being an exchange student for 8 months, I have a feeling if I were to meet up with the people I met in the USA who were on their exchange year, we would be significantly better friends. Overall, my heart is in a lot of places.

My heart more strongly rests with my family. After all, they are the the only ones who put up with all of my shenanigans and crabby moods and still love me. They were the ones who raised me and helped me become the person I am today. Absolutely, my heart is with them and I can say as much as I want that I don't miss them, but a hug from my parents or a home cooked meal from my mom wouldn't be so bad now and again. I hate admitting that I miss things from Minnesota because I feel as if I am not enjoying or living as much as I could in this moment in Spain, but there is nothing more comforting than going on adventures with my sister or complaining about shucking corn for dinner (but knowing that it will be delicious and doing it anyways.) Essentially, being with my nuclear family is best, but my heart is also with my extended family so therefore I am drawn to Wisconsin and Florida mostly (occasionally Colorado) seeing as that is where I still associate them with even if they are not there anymore. Their homes, cabins, lake houses, or island getaways are familiar to me and I always feel accepted there. I can be wacky old me while charades or play my guitar in front of them (which usually doesn't happen for my family.) Family is important, especially to me seeing as my heart is still sitting in my room that I shut the door on last September (even if my sister took it, repainted it, and rearranged the furniture.)

Last, and certainly the most important, my home is with God. What is unique about finding a home in God is that He never lets me down and loves me even though I turn my back on Him constantly. I should also mention that my home with God is a feeling inside of me, that I was not made for this Earth and I long to feel something greater than what I am presented with now or ever. It is guaranteed that the people in my life will let me down; although I find my heart within them, I still have to guard it so it doesn't become too broken. Granted God fixes my heart anytime this happens, but a broken heart can lead to damaged relationships that are beyond my capacity to fix. God can heal those too, but perhaps it isn't in my plan to have them mended completely (but still forgive those who wronged me.) Truly, that is where my heart solely lies, but God allowed me to encounter every single person in my life so far, so they impact me and some continue to be strong influences in my life.

So I now ask you the question: if home is where the heart is, where is your heart? And have you placed it in people or things that will stand up to storms that may come your way?

~Ashlyn

THE Marathon

I saw a post on Facebook by the "Runner's World" page about marathons and what they really mean which inspired me to write something similar, but with words and spices of my own. {Link to original article: http://www.runnersworld.com/advice/the-marathon?cm_mmc=Facebook-_-RunnersWorld-_-Content-Blog-_-TheMarathon}

The marathon. The big 26.2 for us not using the metric system, and an even more daunting 42.195 for those of us who do. You want long distance running, you got it. 26.2 miles is enough for me to run to my high school 4.03 times. It is enough for me to run all the way to Minneapolis and spare myself 2.5 miles. It is hard to visualize all of those miles laid out unless something tangible is associated with it. I could tell you all about my race course, but if you can't put a distance you are familiar with to it, then 26.2 is just a number. In the grand scheme, 26.2 isn't even that much. There are races that are 50, 100, 200, etc. miles. Some take days to complete. Some require the use of vehicles, bikes, swimming, or other modes of transportation. 

People are surprised to learn that I would willingly subjugate myself to running a marathon, let alone training for it. What is so great about completely exhausting my body over the course of 4 hours anyways? You want to get fit? There is a pill for that. Want to make new friends? Go to a club or new coffee shop. Want to do something new and exciting? Knit a scarf. Take a vacation to Costa Rica and zipline. As humans, we are wound up in immediate gratification. But marathons are a completely different story. Marathons teach you to be strong, to not give up, to continue running even when you think you cannot. People will scoff or belittle you for running long distance. She's doing it just so she can brag. She is too little/not thin enough or doesn't have enough muscles to be a runner. She can't do it. Yeah, sure, I don't weigh 90 pounds and can't see my abs, but I am strong. Physically, my feet took a beating for 4 hours. Mentally, I've been holding on since that day in October I told myself, "I am going to run a marathon." 

You give up everything for this race: money, time, yourself. And that is enough motivation to keep you going at mile 20 when your body says, "I've had enough," but your mind has to say, "Not just yet." You can always earn the money back, there is nothing wrong with spending time exercising and getting fit, but you invested yourself wholly into this race, and that's what will bring you to the finish line. Maybe it comes off as pride, but in reality it was passion and determination. I didn't walk in my race once, not because I knew I wouldn't be able to start again, but because I knew if I did, I would be cheating myself; I am so much more than walking, more than giving up the one thing I devoted myself to for 6 months. If I was in it, I was in it for its entirety. 

The marathon shows no mercy to anyone, not me nor the man who won in 2 hours and 9 minutes. It finds the darkest parts of your heart and whispers, "You won't make it. And I will make sure you won't." It finds you long before race day to discourage you and on race day to destroy you brick by brick. There is no pity from the marathon. It doesn't care that you flew in from another country, that you gave up time with friends or family to go running, that you have bright eyes at the starting line. But when you finish the race with tears in your eyes, even more light in your eyes before, you know that you conquered the race and all the despair it brought. Finally, it brings happiness. After all those months, skipped ice cream runs, extra hours in the morning to sleep, they paid off to fulfill your wild dream of running 26.2 miles.

Just because you finished past your goal time or maybe worse than your previous race, you did it. You lapped everyone on the couch, those who said you couldn't do it, and yourself. You beat the little voice in your head that told you to stop while you could and your legs that screamed in agony as you pushed for just one more mile. Let's be honest, muscles can heal and forget about past pain, but the race will be forever seared into your memory. It is no easy feat, so give thanks to those who helped you along the way and the fans who said to keep going. Most of all, look into your heart and say, "I knew we could do it." You did what a younger version of you never could have imagined. You did what you never thought you could do. I did what I never thought was possible.

~Ashlyn