A New Chapter

To anyone who meets me or spends a little bit of time talking with me, it will become immediately clear that I am irrevocably, undeniably, and utterly in love with Europe. The culture, the people, the style, the food, just everything. I'm constantly dreaming about visiting the continent with a refreshed amour for the culture, an empty stomach for the delicious food I'll gladly intake, and a clear suitcase for the new clothes. Perhaps the latter two is a glamourous exaggeration, but my admiration for the continent runs deep. But the longer I visited anywhere in Europe, the more I longer to live there. It simply wasn't enough to visit for any considerable amount of time; I wanted to be there. I considered study abroad programs many times just so I could be there (but sadly, not many psychology programs offer programs that are compatible with what I plan to do with my major). I simply felt that I connected with the European culture more than American culture. (Again, my own thoughts and observations for my personal experience.) So when my family moved to Europe in November of 2013, my first emotion was jealousy. I so longed to live there, and they get to live out my dream. So not fair. But that didn't stop my constant dreaming of one day living in Europe.

This summer, just like my previous summers, I spent in Romania, exploring other parts of the continent, and indulging in my love for Europe. I knew that even before leaving for Romania, it would be difficult to leave the beloved country and return to the States for school. Every time I visit Romania, I leave a bigger piece of my heart there, making it more and more difficult. I just didn't fit back at school anymore. I felt like foreign body. During my stay in Romania, I realized that I couldn't go back. Not out of a desire to not face what lied ahead, but rather, I physically could not leave. I thoughts of multiple  ways to prolong my trip, but the eventual result that I would eventually have to go. In all of this, I took into consideration that my family was very far away. 3000 km away plus a 7 hour time difference...it made things harder. Finally, I proposed, largely out of exasperation, that I could finish my last year of university online. That way, I could still finish school and be where I longed to be. Thus began a rapid and swift transition from becoming an international student studying on-campus to an online school. At first, it was very exciting--I get to live in Europe, I'll be exposed to more things than I was before, and I get to enjoy seeing my family every day. Then, a few weeks after I made my decision public, the emotions began to sink in. I wouldn't see my friends there anymore. What I dreamed my senior year to look like certainly won't look like that anymore. Will I walk for my graduation? Oh my goodness, I have to get all my stuff back. I am literally moving halfway across the globe. OMG. 

And so this is where I am currently. I am living in Europe. I am officially living my dream. However, my dream doesn't stop there. I plan on visiting every single place where I marked on my massive map of Europe that I hung up for the last 2 years. That being said, with the 3 months of summer and now, month of transition while getting adjusted and acclimated, it isn't as cracked up as I thought it would be. Moving was an extremely (although that is a grand understatement) and painfully stressful experience. And I had to do it by myself. I really wouldn't wish it upon anyone: to move halfway across the world in 10 days. Being the observant and judicial person that I am, I have noticed crucial pros and cons regarding this important and significant change in my life.

PROS:
1. I obviously live in Europe. I need no further elaboration. (Do you desire one (or five)? I get to expand my mind being surrounded with people that are different from me in comportment, thinking, and cultural norms. I do get to indulge my taste buds with the robust decisions of delicacies, pastries, and dishes. I constantly filter the street style wherever I go, so my wardrobe somehow expands. Meeting new people is strongly encouraged, especially in foreign countries, since it allows you to make new experiences and new connections. I get to live in Europe).
2. I am closer to visiting the places I've only dreamed with my eyes closed. Paris, Barcelona, Dubrovnik, London, Rome, Cinque Terre, Florence, Zakynthos...they are closer than they ever were before. Plus, a few hundred euros is easier to obtain than multiple thousand of dollars. So visiting them is slowly become obtainable.
3. My mind and worldview is constantly being challenged in a good and healthy way. When we get too comfortable in our culture, our worldview takes a back seat. When you encounter new people with a different way of seeing the world, it forces you to not only defend your mindset, but also compels you to analyze many things, prompting necessary change. It is such a liberating and diverse feeling. Talking to people who've had a particular upbringing usually comes in conflict with an upbringing from a different culture, thus prompting interesting conversation and perceptive observations.
4. I've made many meaningful connections with people here. While I do tend to romanticize things, I like to think that the people I've met in Romania were truly a godsend. Such a fascinating collection of people, with different ways of thinking, with different ways of acting, with different mindset...and yet, mixed together, we all manage to complement each other.
5. The relational education I received, especially in the last 2 years with being a leader on campus, has been absolutely vital. Only now do I realize the magnitude. What used to be second nature and came into contact every single day with multiple people is a rarity here. Having a different frame of mind allows me to see things differently, perhaps so differently, that it is culturally offensive. What was considered normal at school is a clash in culture. The differences in culture helps me develop, but it's also making me realize that what I received has a much larger scope. It has a bigger purpose that I originally thought, and I'm only beginning to see a few glimpses here and there.

CONS:
1. I miss speaking English so often. While I thoroughly enjoy expanding my Romanian and revelling in the fact that I can finally communicate in Romanian, I do miss English. It is my dominant language and sometimes, I don't know how to say something in Romanian, and I can only explain it in English. But then I have to translate and the translation isn't always the same. Sometimes, I do miss speaking in English and people understanding exactly what I'm saying, without the need of a translation. On the same note, sometimes, there are times when the English language is lacking and the only word that comes to mind is in Romanian. Constantly being between two languages is frustrating sometimes.
2. English book stores. I so miss this from Canada and America. The feeling of walking in a Barnes and Noble and knowing that every single book in the store in English was glorious. If I had known those feelings were numbered, perhaps I would have cherished them more. Most book stores do carry some English books, but it's not the same. I can't just go and pick up a book and start reading it in Romanian and French. My level of Romanian and French is not at the level as it is in English. Especially if it starts using elevated vocabulary, I have to use twice the amount of energy to understand something whereas I could read something and I would immediately comprehend it.
3. Things work differently here, so I have to get used to the fact that what I've known is not what it is anymore. Things worked a certain way in Canada and USA, but that's not how it necessarily works in Europe. There are no Wal-Marts, no Targets, no Costcos. You cannot go to one store and you'll find everything you need. You have to go to two or three different stores to find something. Some things are not easily accessible.
4. The clash in culture. It really can so aggravating sometimes. The way some things are done are not what I'm used to and just because that's how it's done there doesn't necessarily mean that it should be that way. The way older think about the newer generation, how we should act, what Christianity should look like...a myriad of thinking that is different. Let me iterate that this is not necessarily a bad thing. It's just when the country as a whole thinks in a certain way that is different than what you have grown up thinking, it can difficult to ask if it's just a cultural issue or a familial thing.

What I'm really trying to say in all of this, with too many words to count, is that I'm blogging again. If you care about what I'm doing with my life and what I encounter, please feel free to follow me on my adventure. My chronology of my life, so to speak. Typically, a weekly post will be the norm (or bi-weekly if I'm feeling really ambitious). Life is certainly taking me on an interesting ride.

(the view of Istanbul, Turkey outside the plane window)

Espana

During Christmas break, I had the extraordinary pleasure and privilege to go to Spain for a week. More specifically, visit the Madrid area for a week. Spain had always been on my list of places to visit and I was convinced that I would one day see the beautiful and exotic country. One day, I thought, in the future. Even when Spain won the FIFA World Cup, I told myself, you will go there one day. I had never thought that I would be able to go there more quickly than I had originally anticipated. At the same time, Spain is a not a country you visit by yourself. It is a destination that you discover with your closest friends, your spouse, your lover...whomever, but it should be with someone. Fortunately for me, it just so happened to be my best friend. While spending a semester abroad near Spain, we had discussed that it would be absolutely amazing if we were able to see each other in Spain (she lives in Spain, I live in America; we have a long-distance friendship). Excessive talking, constant dreaming, but that's it: we could only talk about it. However, realizing that all this talking would soon turn into a reality, we shifted gears from having to be patient until December and planning to do as much as we can in the time that we have. Fast forward end of December and I would spend a week in Spain with my best friend.

Landing in Madrid-Bajaras Airport, everything became visceral--I was actually in Spain. Hearing Spanish, all the signs in Spanish, and seeing my best friend for the first time in 5 months. It suddenly dawned on me that this is actually happening. That night, we had a belated Christmas dinner with two other individuals that she knew during her time in Spain. A cold meats platter, chicken, stuffed mushrooms...I inhaled every moment and all the food. The next day, we visited Alcala de Henares, a city 20 km outside of Madrid, also the place that she lives and coincidently has the largest Romanian population in Spain. Which means, delicious meats and cheeses. Exploring the lovely and under appreciated beauty of Alcala, we walked the streets, admiring the cobblestone alleyways (which are cleaned every morning). Touring one end of the city to the other, we had arrived to the town's square (Centro) that was all decked out in holiday glamour. The lights were all lit and hung, the large Christmas tree was decorated, and everyone was outside skating under the gloriously decorated skating rink. Alcala's centro is beautiful in an obvious sense: vivid colors, grand architecture, and lucid history. And yet, there is a tantalizing beauty, in a sense that there are passerby's that neglect to envelop the beauty of Alcala. Taking in the surroundings is like lying in the ocean on a warm summer's day: it's an experience belittled if constrained by simple words. By eating a chocolate churro, making bargains at the market, and taking in the local culture is merely part of the adventure. 

The next day is when my energy vamped up, my excitement grew, and I was ready to leave the flat and take the train from Alcala to Madrid. That's right: I get to explore Madrid. When we exited the train, we switched transportation and took the metro. I really wasn't quite sure what to expect, but the sheer amount of people is certainly something I did not expect. There was people everywhere and for a couple of seconds, I was overwhelmed by the population of tourists desiring to explore the grand and illuminated capital. Puerto Del Sol, the centro of Madrid, is where we got off from the metro and there was an overwhelming sense of awe instilled in myself. People, decoration, beautiful architecture, and this urgency filled the air. My romanticized view of Europe quickly evaporated as we inaugurated our exploration of Madrid. We first explored Plaza Major, a massive market with all kinds of things: meats, toys, hats, candy, and a myriad of entertainment. It was quite a perplexing and fascinating scene since you are unsure at which to look first. Making our rounds to all the souvenir shops, we progressed on Calle Mayor, a long strip with old buildings with all forms of shops--tapas, souvenirs, ice cream shops, etc. We stopped at Plaza de la Villa to take a couple of photos and justified selfies. Plaza de la Villa is an old building situated in the middle of Calle Mayor, reminiscent of 18th century Spain. It was a painfully vivid reminder that Spain has centuries of history and the adjacent shops are only recent, a mere baby in comparison to the century-old buildings towering the horizon. Continuing on the path, we arrived at Catedral de Santa Maria de la Almudena, a basilica in Madrid constructed in 1993 that resembles the Neo-Gothic architecture that would give anyone reason to believe that it was built 4 centuries before. Directly across the Catedral is Palacio Real, the residence of the Spanish Royal Family. Taking countless photos (entirely on my part), we slowed our pace and simply continued walking throughout Madrid, eventually making our way to Templo de Debod, the Egyptian Temple. Then, slightly west to the temple is a park that overlooks part of the city. Fortunately, our timing was impeccable as we managed to catch the sunset. The warm hues of orange, yellow, and smokey pinks touched the roofs of the buildings and the sun glowed with a hazy orange, one that kisses the skin. Taking a well-deserved break and admiring the lovely sunset, we walked back to Calle Major. With the sun down and nightfall dawning, the lights came on and the city was light up with its holiday lights. Plaza Mayor was bright with its white, bubble-like light fixtures that delighted even the child at heart. Meanwhile, Sol was swarmed with people as its Christmas tree was light up and Centro shined with its various decorations: garlands on buildings, wreaths, and holiday lights hanging in the streets. It was delightful.

The very next day, we took the train and metro once again to Madrid, but having a much looser schedule. Since we were exhausted from our intense day of walking through Madrid the day before, our fatigue transferred, making our pace a little slower. We started the day by taking the metro to La Latina, the quarter of the city that hosts a massive flea market open only on Sundays. The market is filled with unique, one-of-a-kind finds such as knit sweaters, knit cowl scarves, sequin skirts that resembles traditional Spanish boleros (all of which that I purchased). There were also local photographers selling prints of their photographs, leather goods, jackets, parkas, albums, vinyls, t-shirts, and a lot of knitted accessories. It was pandaemonium, since there was as many people as there was in Sol the night before. It appeared that everyone is on the hunt of a unique find or simply a good deal. Knitted sweaters for 15 euros is a bargain, especially when the quality is unmatched and the style is very similar to something you'd find at H&M or Sfera. Taking the metro again back to Sol for a quick lunch break, we explored Plaza Callao whilst enjoying a Starbucks drink in the heart of Madrid. (It is tradition to have a Starbucks in whatever city we are in.) The last item on the list was to see Edificio Metropolis. I have pinned many photos of Metropolis, but to go the very building was something I have been looking forward to ever since I found out I was going to Madrid. Paying the entrance fee to terrace that took us to the roof adjacent to Metropolis, we overlooked the other part of the city. Again, with the sun setting, it was a scene unable to conjure with words. This is where my writing fails me: I simply cannot begin to describe how I felt at the top of that roof, overlooking Madrid, looking at Edificio Metropolis...It cannot be summed up in words. It is one thing to see the building at sunset, with the purple, red, and pink hues cloaking the city. But once nightfall came and the lights came on...It was magical. With the whole city light up, everything was illuminated, and it was an experience I carry with me. The moment itself was not grandeur; but it is one of those moments in life that I will recall vividly that is profound. My best friend and I just kept scanning the city with an immense sense of awe and magnificence on our lips. We kept saying, "Wow, it's so beautiful" over and over again, and perhaps that seems trite, but there was really nothing else we could say. It really is so beautiful. I would visit the place countless times, with my best friend, with other comrades, with my boyfriend, with everyone I hold dear to me. If there is one moment that I will treasure from my trip, it would certainly be being on that roof, overlooking the city, a hazy blur of lights wherever your looked.

The next morning, after 2 full days of exploring Madrid, we were entirely tired. Our feet ached, we were sore, and we were tired. Taking a day off, we simply stayed in my friend's flat and watched films, ate whatever we wished, and chatted. With New Years Eve the next day, we had our list of festivities. Shopping for groceries at the local Carrefour, we spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready for a classical concert at Teatro Salon Cervantes, Alcala's theatre with a New Years Eve party afterward at my friend's peer's flat. Spending the night and early morning laughing, having fun, and making lasting memories, we explored Alcala at night. With no one in sight, we rang in the New Year with each other, accompanied by a Spanish tradition of eating 12 grapes, signifying 12 months of fruit (both literally and figuratively). New Years Day was my last full day in Spain and we spent it savouring the sights and unspoken beauty of Alcala, as well as eating tapas. I couldn't leave Spain without having tapas. Having a rich experience of Spain, I had a heavy heart regarding my departure since I was not ready to leave. I had to bid Spain adios, but I didn't think it would pass by so quickly, with so much happening, and experiencing so much.

Saying goodbye to the people I just met was incredibly difficult seeing as they made part of my trip. Travelling is not merely the sights I saw or what I purchased as a token of my trip. It is rather the experiences I made and had while being abroad. This certainly illuminated and brought to remembrance many things I want from life, and while being in a foreign country, it was truly fulfilling. This was my first time in Spain, but it is certainly not the last. I will come back and each time, I will see things through a fresh perspective, a new way of thinking, a different way of seeing the world.

Seasons

Seasons are a part of life. The seasons naturally transition from summer, to fall, to winter, to spring, and the cycle begins anew. The leaves fall, the trees are barren in the winter months, the trees blossom with vivid pastels, and the air with damp with moisture during the summer. Nature depicts a cycle that is incessant, constant, unchanging. Yet, while these seasons promise sameness, a quality that life remains the way it was, it also glistens with change, with a metamorphosis, a sense of a foreign wind on the horizon. Change is a part of life, and while change is uncomfortable, it allows us to grow more comfortably in our skin. When a season of change, of difference, of alien territory enters my life, it a struggle, a plight that often overwhelms me and would rather ignore. That is something that I very much wanted to happen when I was in Europe for the summer.

When I was told that I would spend 3 months in Europe, I was beyond elated. Scared and frightened what I could encounter, but excited nonetheless. However, when I was informed that I would spend time in Romania--my country of origin--suddenly I wasn't so excited anymore. I didn't want anything to do with the people, the culture, the country, nothing. I wanted to distance myself from everything I would eventually encounter. The first 2 weeks of settling in Romania was extremely difficult, and that it not something I say lightly. Personal matters have exploded and combusted that sent my family in a slight state of turmoil, augmenting our difficulty to adjust to the culture. Shortly thereafter, it was as if an obstacle was removed from our path, an obstruction no longer present. I found myself eager to get the place from where I come, the people that would have been neighbors, and the way of life. I wanted to get Romania. I began to drink in the culture, discovering the music, taste, scents, and sounds that made up this fascinating country. I began to recognize people, their mannerisms, and their characteristics. I began to dress myself as a European, no longer lusting over European vogue via Pinterest, but actually getting inspiration from the streets of Oradea, Timisoara, Cluj, Sibiu, and Brasov. I wanted to experience Romania. That was a massive turning point because before that, I would have bartered something to have as little to do with it as possible. And in hindsight, I held some prejudices solely based on a person that embodied everything I disliked about the country. Once that individual left the picture, suddenly, I began to see Romania for the first time in my life. I really began to see. As I would travel to the country and mountain regions, I would encounter different kinds of people in comparison to the ones I would see in more cosmopolitan regions. The deeply set wrinkles all tell a story of hardships, effort, and sacrifice, while the frivolity of the young generation angers the older generation. The people, places, things, lifestyles, and attitudes became part of my experience. I had finally allowed the experience to change how I saw things, how I did things, how I thought regarding particular topics. My taste palettes had matured, my thought processed matured also, my eyesight and perception had gone through a metamorphosis, the way I touch and view touch has changed, and how I hear had changed. All of my 5 senses had irrevocably changed. For the better. I saturated myself in a culture that began to show me clearer images of who I really am. Instead of distancing myself, I drew myself closer to it, inevitably allowing me to change for the better.

It has been nearly 2 months since I've returned to America and the experiences, smells, sights, sounds, and people are as vivid as though I experienced it yesterday. I had returned to my 3rd year in college as a completely different person. I left Canada to Europe for the summer as one person and leaving Europe to go back to school in America as another. I see, think, smell, touch, and hear things completely different than that of 3 months ago. I simply cannot have such an enriching experience and then continue as if it had not changed me. I would be lying if my time abroad had not changed me, not simply for the locations and places that I visited, but rather the experience of saturating oneself in a culture different that what is known or comfortable. This made adjusting to college life (and American life) much more difficult than I had anticipated (but that's another topic, altogether). Before, I felt that I was stuck between 2 worlds--Canada and America--but after this summer, it's inclining toward me being misplaced.

Seasons come and go. But they always return at the same time every year. In this season where the leaves are changing and the temperature dips, I find myself in an inexplicable place where things are not the same yet nothing has changed. Growing into myself and growing in the world around me is not necessarily an easy task, but yet, there is some element of unpredictability that I simply cannot resist.

Carpe Diem

I do not find this the least amount of surprising, that I have not worn out the effects that Europe has on me. In fact, if anything, I emphasize it here during my time in America. When someone experiences a different way of life, how to do life, it's difficult to shake that experience off. It is hard to unsee or unexperience things once they have been seen or experienced. Gaining a lot of my personal style from Europe (particularly Britain and France), it's not a surprise when I try to implement that on my school campus and my own personal style. Thanks to the invention of tumblr and Pinterest, I receive daily inspiration, augmenting my European vogue. A very popular trend is the headscarf. It is something I have wanted to do for a very long time, yet it was something I could not achieve. For whatever reason, I just didn't do it. However, I envied people who could pull it off and could wear it well. 

So finally, while perusing Pinterest and lusting over several blogs, I finally got the courage to pull it off. Taking a couple of tries and several missed attempts. I have finally pulled off the headscarf trend. Deciding to not go along the whole hipster, edgy alley, I veered towards a very European look. It seems a little trite to share this rather mundane news with the people of the internet, but this is quite an achievement for me, since I very rarely do anything with my hairstyle that doesn't include bobby pins or hats. So this, is very much, seizing the day. 

Italy and Switzerland

The last leg of my European adventure took place in Italy. Or rather, Italy, Austria, and Switzerland, but this was very special to me. In all honesty, every place I have visited thus far on my journey has been unique special and cherishing in its own way, but when I revisit places that have a home-like quality to them, it's refreshing. I was secretly hoping that during my time in Europe, I would eventually find myself in Switzerland or Italy, with vehement aspirations that I would revisit the lovely and beautiful scenery that has been close to my heart. Alas, it came to be when it was announced to me that we would be traveling over there for only a couple of days. A couple of days is all I needed.

A 11 hour car ride surprisingly went by incredibly fast. Passing through Hungary and Austria zoomed past us with its flat plains and then swerving hills and mountains. However, perhaps it was 33 degree (91 F) weather outside that kept every driver preoccupied on arriving home safely and taking a much needed albeit impromptu trek to the lake, as the incredibly hot weather is unheard of in the mountainous  regions in Europe. With everyone that stopped and chatted, it was unanimous: it was very hot. Apart from the irregularly mild weather, the drive was of little consequence or event.

We arrived at a quaint, family-owned pension (budget friendly apartment style villas) just outside of Innsbruck. The pension has a breathtaking view of the Austrian Alps as you open the window along with vivid flowers blooming along the windowsill. Now, I must pause and take a moment to discuss the breakfast menu. I am very much a food person--I greatly enjoy food, but I enjoy well-made and delicious food. For breakfast, there is a lovely spread with a cold meats platter consisting of smoked speck, prosciutto, Genoa salami, Havarti, and Emmentaler cheese, along with 3 different varieties of bread. The owner would personally come and big you good morning (guten morgen!) and offer you coffee, tea, or fresh orange juice. The hospitality was absolutely pleasant. The entire style of the pension was very much mountainside rustic style with modern appliances and decor. 

The first day was relatively very relaxed and tranquil; we spent the day in Switzerland. This was of course very exciting for me since it was my first time back in a year. My connection with the country runs very deep and I do consider it one of my homes. I feel very comfortable and at home in Switzerland. We went to Coop, the second largest retail and grocery supermarket and Switzerland and indulged in my favorites: mango Fanta, fresh croissants, and salivating over the Swiss cuisine (which included every single food article in the store). At this particular time, I realized that glancing at the meager mall with a limited number of stores would quickly get boring, so my sister decided (stupidly, might I add, on my part) to run in the pouring rain to the next shopping plaza only to comprehend that there was literally nothing to loo at. Or rather, that interested us, since it was a home store very similar to Ikea. Then, getting my outfit drenched even further, we leaped across the plaza to another nearby shopping mall. Purchasing an umbrella in the anticipation of using it, the rain stopped and we walked to Manor (a fashion retail store) with our clothes completely soaked. After that adventure, we ate lunch at a quaint restaurant that serves delicious pizza while enjoying the company and smell of fresh rain. It was a picturesque vista that reminded me of the exact reason why and how I fell in love with Switzerland in the first place: the peaceful feel of the country side, kind people, beautiful scenery, and delicious food. 

The next day, however, was the highlight of the trip. We ventured to Italy. Under an hour drive from Innsbruck, we stopped in Brunico, a resort town with a lovely town square. The town was bustling with excitement and activity since the country has vacation and there were tourists everywhere--sitting in cafes, enjoying a stroll, or biking. We stopped for a short while to enjoy the quiet and serene scenery. Afterward, we continued relatively close by to another town whose name escapes me to join an elderly man on a business lunch with my father. The entire conversation between my father and this man was in Italian, but that did not hinder the man's ability to express kindness and interest. Afterwards, since it was conveniently along the way to the Trento area, we explored and viewed the Dolomites. A breathtaking vista of jagged peaks and knife-like edges, indulging in this scenery was truly spectacular. Attempting to account the splendour and grandeur of the mountains is truly a formidable task. Hopefully the photos will be able to capture something words clearly cannot. 

Once touring the Dolomites had come to a close, we drove to Caldario, a small Italian town in the Trento area that is absolutely lovely. It is reminiscent of a classic Italian town, complete with vineyards everywhere, old rustic architecture, and gelato stands. Naturally, I did very Italian things while exploring Caldario: eating a pizza, indulging in a gelato, and talking for hours on end. We stood by the lake, which is a relatively small lake with a stepladder, with two hills in the background (while we were there, the sun was beginning to set and there was a beautiful contrast between the sun-kissed hills and the serene lake). A restaurant was overlooking the lake, so people were sitting down, conversing amongst themselves--laughing, eating, admiring, glancing. There was conversation everywhere but there was such communication and emotional intimacy buzzing in the atmosphere. It was evident that people did not merely meet to just eat, but rather to enjoy this moment in time together.

On the last day, I found myself in Switzerland again, only on a much more relaxed state. There was no business that needed to occur that day, so it was just time with my father and sister. This translated in going grocery shopping and stocking up on food articles not available in North America (or Eastern Europe, for that matter). Once the necessary purchase of cold meats, cheese, chocolate, and sweets were complete, we sat down for another pizza (yes, another pizza, because all I've eaten on this trip was pizza) at Churfisten. We sat outside and enjoy the warm afternoon sun. Whilst waiting for our food to arrive, the military had been released and I observed the flood of young men returning home after being in training. It was impeccable timing, since the moment the last few men boarded the train, the food arrived. Savoring every bite with its infusion of spices and flavor, eating is always like a refined culinary experience. Devouring the delicious frappe, I noticed a sweet young couple sitting adjacent from me. A young lady, with long blonde hair, arrived doed-eyed and delightfully in love with her boyfriend, a tall young man with short brown hair. Their interaction was particularly interesting. Rather than sit and stare at their phones while exchanging few to no words, they kept caressing each other's hands, holding them and feeling the sensation of a touch while talking. They talked a lot. But it wasn't an obnoxious, chatty banter. Rather, it was a sweet and irrevocably invested conversation about the everyday occurrences in each other's lives. But the entire time they talked or laughed, they held hands. It was so sweet and intimate. 

While reflecting on the this journey, I was painfully aware that seeing such sights, exploring such towns, and meeting such wonderful people is the entire meaning of traveling. It is not merely to say and report to friends that you have gone so and so, but rather to have an experience. To see, taste, touch, smell, and hear something something. Alas, it truly was. 

How Being in Europe Has Helped With My Confidence

As a precaution, you should know that this is a very transparent post. I have often deferred from such posts since I felt that being transparent with viewers on the internet would be a little odd. First, you have no idea who I am, so that stirred a sense of fear. And second, I wouldn't want to share my personal information with just anyone, never mind people on the web. However, all that seemed not to matter once I got a blog. Or more importantly, once I realized that my blog was my safe writing space (apart from my journal). Nonetheless, these are my thoughts--personal and otherwise--during my 3 month stay in Europe this summer.

As most people I interact with may know, I am spending my summer in Europe, or more specifically, Romania. This does sound rather luxurious, exotic, cultural, and whatever adjective you wish to insert, but I assure you, it's not as glamorous as it appears. It took a very long to adjust to the culture, the way of life, the method of thinking, the way people are, act, and speak, and how the country functions. It was more difficult to adjust simply because this was going to be a long haul. It's not a two week stay, like last year, where we switched on survival mode and got the heck out of there. On the contrary, it was going to be a longer stay in one place, so we better learn how things work around here. That was a very difficult task. Everyone in my family dealt with it differently--some stuffed it, while others vented their frustration more often (i.e. me). Things are done completely different than what I used to back in Canada and even the United States. People are different, the way things are done are entirely different, and the standard for things are different as well. Which brings me to my main point: my confidence suffered rather significantly as a result of this world I was thrusted in. Girls dress quite differently (and I say that as politely as I can), many women are thinner and more petite than I (although it can be argued whether skinny is equated to toned), and receive a lot of attention as a result from their, er, fashion choices. A tainted filter entered my perspective, causing to see myself in a negative light. However, regardless of the struggles I initially faced when I first arrived here, I realized, quite early on actually, that this is a good thing. A very good thing, in fact, and I'll tell you why.

1. I mentioned that the women in Europe in general are more petite and thinner, but that is not the result of a healthy lifestyle. Again, I'm not speaking about every single woman, but rather as a general. Most women drink a lot of coffee and usually smoke, causing their frames to be small and petite in number, but they are immersed in a stressful environment. The smoking and excessive coffee drinking eventually begins to have a toll on the body. So, while they be skinny, they are not fit. I took it upon myself to simply observe the thin women on the street. I will not say all, but a good majority of them are not fit. Meaning, they are not toned, their bodies are not trim, and it shows they do not lead a healthy and active lifestyle. The little meat on their bones jiggles, expressing that they engage in little physical exercise. At first, I was very angry and envious. What do you mean that they barely work out and look like little twigs and here I am, working 3-4 times a week in the gym and I'm still not thin? Then, the little lightbulb in my head flashed. I have to accept that I have a specific body shape that cannot be altered (nor do I want to), but if I want to look the best that I can be, then I should do something about it. I constantly looked at pictures on Pinterest with girls that had a significantly smaller frame than I. I could grumble under my breath how I desired to look like that. However, when I was at the gym, I stuck to cardio, thinking the calories would be burned and the weight would drop. Alas, that didn't prove very successful. Especially with the wave of women that entered my sights and seeing their frames, I was motivated to change things up. However, with no gym and a small apartment proved rather difficult to begin an intense regime. Fortunately, my sister packed the Insanity workout regime. Thus began the journey to push my body as far as it can, knowing that I can be better. I can do better, I can push harder, and I can sweat for longer. I can made tremendous improvements; as encouraging as the progress has been, I still have a little more to go. My goal is losing 15 pounds so I can be truly satisfied with my weight loss. I've made quite a dent, but I will not stop until it's reached. I've noticed that as my tops and pants get looser and looser, I am encouraged by how I look. Moreover, I am falling in love with how I look.

2. As a result of working out hardcore, I can now wear clothes I've always wanted to wear but couldn't. The moment when I put that top on and I fit into (and it's loose!) was a beautiful moment. But it's not merely wearing clothes I've wanted to wear. My confidence grew stronger, prompting me to wear more prints and bold prints. I like the cool, classic, and neutral vide Western Europe has, while Eastern Europe is concerned with bright colors, prints, and flowy details. Wearing more pops of color and purchasing more garments with prints on them tell me that I am secure in my body. But, honestly, it's more about the prints and how it looks on me. Light colors contrast my dark tan and prints fall nicely on my frame. The clothing market sells different pieces that I would never find back home, pushing me to step out of my comfort zone, fashion wise. While I lean towards the classic and cool style, I find that prints are slowly becoming part of my wardrobe.

3. In conjunction with my burgeoning wardrobe and working out, I am more excited to wear them on the streets. I need to pause right here and point that the men in Romania stare. I can gotten more angry and furious at the incessant staring than anything else in this country. I'd be walking in shorts, maxi skirt, or a dress, and yet, they still feel that I am a piece of meat. It really bothered me at first, but at this point, my perspective is if they're going to look (since it is inevitable), I should feel flattered that they are glancing at something dressed in appropriate clothing, flatters my shape, and shows that classy doesn't mean outdated. The girls here expose a lot of skin and in contrast, I do not like expose an excessive amount of skin (as that is my personal preference). So the difference of clothing choices also inevitably sets me apart, and I have accepted that. But at the same time, that also says something flattering regarding how I look, my shape, and how I'm dressed, and as much as I find the attention annoying, I take it as a complement (most of the time).