Tag: Travel

Renewed Inspiration

Published on by gwenmorgan323Leave a comment

When you study abroad, there is an expectation to make the most of your time. I have, for a long time, struggled with the answer to “making the most” out of my time.

I believe Bilbao is one of the most beautiful hidden gems of a small city in the world. I wouldn’t believe if you had told me last year that I would be going abroad here. Why would I choose Bilbao over a more “vibrant” city like Madrid or Barcelona?

My choice of Spain was an easy one in general. Growing up in a Spanish-speaking family, I had been expected to take Spanish throughout all my schooling. I ultimately settled on Bilbao because I had already studied in Salamanca during high school, having visited other places like Madrid, Toledo, and Portugal during that time. I wanted something different, I wanted to feel inspired.

Upon my arrival in Bilbao, I was sweaty and sore and just a deflated balloon of an individual after a hectic travel day (I had a mix-up with finding my gate in the Madrid airport and have blisters on my heels to prove it). I had gotten in one day before my program, having booked a hotel for that night. After spending the next several hours forcing my body to stay awake, binge-watching Suits, and going in search of reasonably priced hotel food, I decided to go on a walk. The hotel was out of the city, near a lovely little park, and as I left the sun was beginning to set. I couldn’t stop my mind from racing with the constant question; “Did I choose the right city?” Not only that, “how am I supposed to make sure I make the most of my time here?”

I yearned for that ability to have those “life-changing experience” stories when I got back to America for me to give some sort of amazing advice to further generations of study abroad-ers.

I went to bed that night with nerves and excitement swimming in my gut, having no idea of what was to come.

After having spent my first full month in the city of Bilbao, I can firmly say that I made the right decision, because Bilbao has shifted the way I see the world.

I live in the “old town” of Bilbao, Casco Viejo. It is full of cluttered buildings, narrow cobblestone streets, and colorful shops. My specific homestay is close to one of my favorite features of the old town, Plaza Nueva. If you want to pintxo-hop, that is the place to do it. The architecture is also so unique and fun, and not just in the old town. Bilbao is such a perfect mix of that old and modern architecture. Casco Viejo is a neighborhood like no other, there’s the Bilboko Donejakue Katedrala, (a cathedral in the center of our area of town), a museum of archeology right next to our little homestay (of which I have yet to visit), and the Biblioteca de Bidebarrieta, an old library, right down the street. Not to mention, all of the beautiful cafés and fun shops, my personal favorite being a stand where they only sell french fries that you can get with a variety of sauces.

Every single morning, I walk to the Universidad de Deusto. A 30-minute walk that I am more than happy to wake up early for, early enough that I get to experience my beloved Bilbao waking up.

I relish in the calm of the morning, the ability to slow down.

I walk down the river, under two lovely bridges, past various shops and neighborhoods, and my favorite part: the Guggenheim. The Guggenheim is truly an architectural masterpiece, one that at first I was completely unsure of how to preserve once my time abroad was finished. Walking along the streets one afternoon I found an art shop and decided to buy a sketchbook. I grew up loving to draw more than anything, and after a year of failing to practice my craft, I decided what better souvenir than one filled with sketches of the Basque country. Each day after classes (if the weather is nice) I try to find a nice bench where I can sit and sketch for at least an hour. Right now, I am working on two different sketches of the Guggenheim from different angles. I am hoping that I can get as many as possible from a variety of angles. I truly never realized how much I had missed drawing. The renewed inspiration to explore my creative side like this is refreshing.

Like I said before, there’s so much pressure to just go, go, go when you’re abroad. “Travel here, explore this area, try this food.” Sometimes, you just need time to sit with yourself.

I recommend to everyone who is studying abroad, take a minute. Go to a nice park, find a bench, close your eyes and breathe.

Our lives are so long yet so short, if we move too fast we’re gonna miss it. Even now as I write this blog, I am staring out the window wistfully on a 4-hour bus to Madrid.

I think I’ve realized that for me, making the most of my time abroad means renewing my creativity, it means learning new things about myself, new skills and new ways to manage stressful situations.

I’m going on so many trips, I mean right now as I write this blog I’m sitting in a hotel in London! (Can you believe it?) I’m seeing so much of the world. The hustle and bustle can overwhelm you. I’m going to blink and study abroad will be over. I’ve been so engulfed in that inspiration. Taking a step back from the constant go, go, go that is American work culture has opened my eyes. I feel like I can breathe.

(Here is some joy from celebrating my 21st in the Basque Country!)

My Immigration Appointment

Published on by angelinapacosaLeave a comment
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Yesterday was honestly the day I have been dreading for nearly a month. As a US passport holder and in consideration with the length of time I’ll be staying in Ireland, I wasn’t required to apply for a visa. Which is both a blessing and a curse, I guess, because I had to make an appointment with immigration for a residence permit instead. This wouldn’t have been something to dread if the immigration office in Cork City was still able to register residence permits, but due to some recent policy changes, only the Dublin office is able to issue them. Dublin is 2 hours and 45 minutes away by train, over 3 hours if you take the bus. And my appointment was made for 10 AM (times were not exactly negotiable).

So I woke up around 5 AM, headed to the train station by cab, and got on a direct train to Dublin at 6:15. I had everything I needed (or thought I did), including documents like recent bank statements to prove I have the funds to sustain myself while abroad, a letter of health insurance to prove I will be covered should there be need for medical treatment, my passport, etc. To see an immigration officer/representative, you have to enter your confirmation number into a kiosk, which will give you a ticket. On a whim, I decided to double check that confirmation email and my heart absolutely dropped. Even though I had read through the email about three times, I had missed the portion that directed me to print it out to gain entry to the building. And I had not printed it out. Immediately, I was looking up print shops in Dublin, but my train was arriving at 8:30- too early for stores to be open. I figured that if I walked to the print shop, it might be 9 by the time I get there, which was the opening time for a lot of the places I was looking at.

I got off the train around 8:45 (I’m not sure why we got there 15 minutes late, especially since there were no stops), and booked it to the nearest print shop which was about a 15-20 minute walk. But the place was closed. Even though Google Maps had said it opened at 9, the store’s hours said 10. After a lot of deliberation, I decided to head over to the immigration office, hoping I’d have a better chance of figuring things out if I could talk to someone who worked there. Luckily, I was right. The immigration officer directed me to a print shop (that was, in fact, open) about a 10 minute walk from the office. He assured me that even if I got back after 10, they would still see me (which was a huge point of concern for me).

I raced to the print shop, met another girl there who was in the same situation as me (I guess this happens all the time, which made me feel marginally better), and rushed back with all the necessary documents. The office itself wasn’t busy- even though it was closer to 10:30 by the time I finally checked in, there were only two people ahead of me waiting to be seen. When my number was finally called, I handed the immigration officer all my documents and my passport, but apparently, I was also missing a letter of registration from my university. After a long, anxiety-ridden 20 minutes (I’ll spare you the uninteresting details), I was able to get the letter of registration and show it to the officer. (Apparently, this was something that students needed to request, but once I did request the document, it was emailed to me within two minutes). I was finally able to pay for my residence permit, and my passport was stamped.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to spend any time in Dublin, but I am looking to go back to spend a weekend there soon. I had already bought a train ticket for 12 PM ahead of time, figuring I’d be in and out of immigration, based on what I had heard from my friends’ experiences. As that was not the case for me, and I didn’t want to waste the money I had paid for the ticket, I headed back to the station and got on the 12:00 train. I had been up for so long at this point- as I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before- that I slept on the train for about an hour. I had exhausted myself by adding unnecessary stress to the whole experience. And it totally was my fault. I thought I was prepared and had everything in order, I checked and double checked, but some very important things still got overlooked. Instead of worrying about my appointment being cancelled, or any other horrible outcome (and believe me, all of those were running through my mind), I could have enjoyed experiencing a new city. I could have gone through a simple, painless process, but instead I complicated it. It’s important to acknowledge that: I got humbled.

Moral of the story: read the confirmation email twenty times and bring even the documents that you think might be insignificant, just in case. Ask your friends who have gone to their appointments already to see what the immigration officers asked for. Don’t overlook the tiny details in a very important process. I’m lucky that the immigration officers wanted to help me, rather than turn me away. Hopefully this is a learning experience, because it’s never too late in life to have a truly humbling moment like I did.