By rmattiola
In my application essay I explained how I could count 15 of my favorite places in DC. I gave the details about one and said to check back for the other 14. Well, here they are:
- The residential streets of Georgetown between 27th and R and Wisconsin.
- Dumbarton Oaks Estate and Park
- The Gardens of The Smithsonian Castle
- Boulder Bridge Loop at Rock Creek Park
- Jefferson Memorial and River Run
- St. John’s Yellow Church
- National Cathedral
- Residencies around the Palisades
- The Pond on the Mall
- The WWI Rotunda on the Mall
- Renwick Art Gallery
- Impressionism Wing of National Gallery of Art
- Teddy Roosevelt Island
- On top of the old grafitied dock house looking over the Potomac off of the canal path
I’m going to be honest: I’m new to this whole blog thing. I don’t really even keep a journal. I do however, at any given moment in time, posses a collection of scraps of paper, torn notebook sheets, and sticky notes upon which I jot the most important thoughts racing through my mind. These are fun facts, things to remember, song lyrics, Spanish vocab, short essays, etc. So now I will attempt to accumulate my fragmented sticky-note-thoughts into complete sentences for this travel blog.
My program doesn’t start until February 21, so I’ve been home, watching my friends who were home for the holidays return back to school, one by one. And now, it’s just me, still waiting, but content. I’ve been playing with my puppies, cooking, running, reading, writing, planning trips and slowly packing during the days and working at a local Mexican Restaurant called Torre by night. I’ll tell about the significance of the name in a bit.
I’m fortunate to have been hired at this restaurant because there’s never a shortage of smiling employees asking me, “¿Como estás? I have quick conversations, eager to practice my Spanish. Yet, when people ask me, “Are you excited? Are you nervous?” I can’t help but to answer yes to both. I am excited to feel the warm sun on my skin again, I’m excited to wander the streets (safely) of a new city, I’m excited to find new running routes to call my own. I’m excited to meet my like-minded classmates and professors and my host family. I’m excited for the unknown. But I’m nervous about my Spanish level. I signed up for a program taught almost entirely in Spanish. According to GW, I am “Advanced” in Spanish. This is debatable. I cannot say that speaking is anything less than a struggle for me. But apparently, many other learners at my level feel the same way. Still, the concern encompasses me. I could be practicing more by using duolingo and mango learning, but for some reason, maybe just for the thrill of it, I let the nerves build, then push them off reminding myself that I’ll just “pick it up” after the first 2 weeks. What does that mean?! Will I be combing the beach for Spanish vocabulary like I do for shells? Will I be picking up the dropped plates of tacos, fajitas, enchiladas and nachos filled with Spanish grammar instead of queso?
“What if my family thinks I’m rude because I use a word or a sentence form that is considered impolite?” I asked my boyfriend. “You said Chileans were very welcoming and understanding, so they won’t. They know you’re learning,” he assured.
“What if the people there think I’m stupid because I can’t communicate well?” I questioned my mom. “They will,” she replied. My mom was never one to sugar-coat answers. She then started telling one of her stories of her trips to Italy, or Germany or France to try to console me.
“What if I get home sick?” I wonder to myself. I will. It’s inevitable. I just need to prepare myself and plan how to overcome it. I can channel that negative energy into gratefulness for my new surroundings and adventures instead.
Recently though, the excitement is overpowering the nerves. I’ve just booked extra flights and tour guides for Machu Picchu and other trips surrounding Cusco, Peru. I intended to also make my way down to Torres del Paine in Patagonia (remember the name of the Restaurant?) but that plan was heart-wrenchingly cancelled. At my interview for the restaurant job they asked me if I knew the significance of the restaurant name. I excitedly explained that I was planning a trip to Torres del Paine, a park famous for it’s blue stone towers. Interestingly enough, the restaurant bar surrounds a stone tower. A few weeks later, when I was digging into details of getting to and staying in Torres del Paine, I made the saddening decision to cut my after school travel, avoid the snow, fog and wind packed into the breathtaking park and save money and time by only trekking around Cusco. I was fighting the calendar because I set a hard date to begin studying for the MCAT: June 20. As of right now, I will arrive home June 17 with a dark tan and plenty of alpaca wool souvenirs after climbing around Machu Picchu, the Sacred Valley and Rainbow Mountain of Peru.