Finally. Some Time. Maybe.

So I think I have adequate time to write something significant on my blog. Maybe. I have a lot to do today. I don't have class until 3. Which I think is awesome. I really hope I can figure out a way to make it work to my advantage instead of making it just sleepfest 2010 down here. Which I think it won't. Abbey and I are getting off to a good start by going to bed around the same time consistently, which is sort of a first for me, which I like. I had tried to convince myself for a long time that I could run on minimal amounts of sleep, which isn't true at all. I need a ton of sleep. There, I said it. I need sleep. Going to bed at 3 in the morning just doesn't make me feel good. Except one time I was up until four and then I slept in until noon and I was alarmingly ok. But I've done that before, staying up until obscene hours and then sleeping in until two and I feel like crap. That had nothing to do with anything.


Anyway.


As I'm here I feel like it feels very missionary. And when I say missionary a lot of the stuff I'm feeling resembles the feelings I've had when I've been abroad. I just feel more peaceful, calmer. I don't feel like there is a need to be as ridiculous as I usually am. I mean, ridiculousness for me is basically inescapable, but I just feel like it's in smaller doses and it's like necessary ridiculous. Like Connor started freaking out on me when I was taping everything in sight on our way to the Feria yesterday. But he definitely should not give me flack, because when he is all alone up in Norcal (ew) crying and missing Uruguay he'll go to my facebook and watch all of my videos and say "wow. I shouldn't have ridiculed her. She is so freaking awesome for taping like a fool." That's probably what is going to happen. Point is, is that I will always be slightly ridiculous. I just feel more settled. Like, in myself. And I like it. And I don't know if this is true, or if this feeling is going to go away, but I feel like I'm on a mission trip. I feel like I have very specific objectives when I'm here. Which is what we always had whenever I went anywhere, like Thailand or Peru or whatever. Whereas back at school, or home, I didn't really have specific objectives. I mean I had goals, but they got lost in the shuffle of the craziness that I perpetuated within myself. I think I will gain an element of clarity that I need to learn how to permanently obtain so that I can have clarity as I make my way into the future, with my career plans or goals or whatever. Because that bridge is going to come up to me wayyy faster than I will anticipate. And I want to be ready. I want to hear from God what I'm supposed to or where I should go instead of getting my answers from other people or doing things so people will like me or so I'll look good. I really feel like this is a time where I can seek out the Lord and have him clean out my heart and let me realize things about myself and other people that I can use in my future.

I made a list of things that I would talk about today. Let's see how much I can get through before I realize that I am spending entirely too much time on the computer and need to actually go act all hardcore local sauce on the streets of Montevideo.

1. Feria. The Feria is a huge open air market. There is one right by where we are staying, and then there's one over on the other side of town, by Punta Carretas. There's also one in Ciudad Vieja, but that's more of an antique market (p.s. Life goal: buy a pair of vintage European crystal earrings for cheap to wear in Buenos Aires). But it's a super cool place and you can buy everything under the sun. MJ posters in Spanish, shoes, books, ducks. Yes. Ducks. It goes in all different directions for many blocks and there's all sorts of people that are shopping with their maté. Super cool. It's kind of a bust to walk around in when it is hotter than the dickens. But it's still really cool. I like the one by us more than the one by the beach.

2. I feel like it is necessary to post a picture of this cat that I want. He is two dollars. My gatito lindo.



He was two dollars and the Feria and I want want want him. He is too cute. TWO DOLLARS. Come on now. That is a deal. They have all sorts of obscene animals. They were selling ducks and all sorts of weird birds and stuff. It was freaking cool. Granted, most of them have disgusting diseases and ticks and stuff. But whatever. What I save in buying my gatito I can use to pay for medical bills. I feel like it is a win-win situation. Cat. And money for when I get diseases.

3. Punta Carretas. Punta Carretas is absolutely hilarious because at the present moment it is a mall, but it used to be a prison where they tortured political prisoners. I don't know why I used the adjective hilarious, but really, if you think about it, this was an extremely efficient use of space. It's a huge mall with all sorts of awesome stores. They even have a really really nice grocery store underneath some of the stores. There's a food court and kiosks and stuff. Its a really nice mall. Which previous tortured political prisoners. I bought a fantastic shirt at Zara when I was there. On sale. Win.

4. All of these things that I have previously mentioned I have undoubtedly had to walk to. I have done horrific amounts of walking since I've been here, and it's only day 5. My feet are still swollen. I walked from ciudad vieja all the way back to Casa on 18, which took almost an hour. Then we have to walk anywhere to go to stores or anything. I mean, you can take taxis and buses, which I have done and are both fantastic and cheap, but most people are always walking everywhere. So that's what we do as well. My feet are in a constant state of pain. But I figure I should give it a few days/weeks until my feet stop protesting. I do not mind the walking because all I do is eat things slathered with mayonnaise and pizza dripping with cheese because of the scads of cheese piled on top of it. It's all delicious, but I feel as though anything below my waist will resent my lack of willpower. So, walk I shall. I'm also gonna go join a gym. You know. Just in case.

5. Ok. I have heard that you get cat called here and men are always like "wassuppp pretty ladyyyy" blah blah on and on, except in Spanish and usually about 4 degrees more obscene. Can I just say that that has NOT happened. I bet I just jinxed myself. But really. I have gone out by myself and with one other girl, no cat calls. Nothing. I got checked out, sure. But that does not count. I have not gotten a catcall. Not that I want one, but I guess I was just expecting it already. I hope that doesn't sound creepy. I bet once it starts happening I'll freak out. So who knows. And probably by writing this I just jinxed myself.

6. May I just say that I am terrible at Spanish. I don't care what any of y'all say. My Spanish is deplorable. I feel like people look at my like I speak jibberish. When I'm just speaking what I was taught. I dunno. It's really frustrating. It's day ive and I feel like I should be better than I am. I get really discouraged really easily. Then I don't even want to speak it. Like when I was at the Feria I was looking at an old typewriter (p.s. Life goal: acquire and old school typewriter) and I told the guy I wanted an older one. But I used viejo instead of antigua. Sooo the guy thought I was talking about him. Being old. Fail, Lauren Johnson. Fail. But I guess I just have to realize that this is going to happen for a while. I just need to put on my big girl pants and have no fear and just get craaazy with learning Spanish. I feel like I'm so close to understanding, but then the different sounding y, j, and ll sound are different, and then everyone talks about a billion miles an hour, so that throws me. Off. I feel like I'm being a little too hard on myself, because we've been here for 5 days and I'm expecting fluency to just happen. Which it doesn't. I have to work at it, even though I am constantly surrounding by Spanish. Believe me, it's everywhere. Now that I think about it, it has to be a whole lot worse if you know absolutely no Spanish. I cannot imagine how terrifying that would be. I would definitely be crying all the time if that were the case. But it's not. But I'm still not satisfied with the proficiency of my Spanish. In time, in time.

7. We start classes today. I have 3 and half hours before I have to go. Thus, the blog that is longer than time. Anyway, I'm really excited. It doesn't seem like a super difficult load that I have, and I'm technically taking 15 hours here because one of the classes was the INTS one, and I don't have to do anything there. So this is the least amount I've taken. And I'm really looking forward to my classes. The only one I'm slightly worried about is my POLS class, because I'm afraid I won't be able to grasp all of the elusive and subjective nonsense we have to talk about all semester. I mean, I'm soo excited, but I already started reading my book, and it's dense. I am reading it super slowly because I want to make sure I understand everything and it's not confusing or I missed something. But other than that I'm stoked. AND I am stoked for my Advanced Spanish Conversation class. Bring onnn the conversation. I am ready!

8. I made friends with some of the people from the church. We finally got to meet them last night because we got a tour of the church, which actually used to be an old coffee factory, so it's huge and there's lots of space and secret passageways and ladders and stuff. The people that live at the church actually live above us, we can hear the little girls yelling and giggling at night as we're hanging out in our rooms, because there is a courtyard right in the middle of Casa, so we can hear everything. I am currently listening to Hillsong on my computer and David Gray from Dr. Gentry's room, across the courtyard. Killing two birds with one stone. Win. Anyway, I met Ema, full name Emmanuel, and Diego. And they're sooo cool. They took us to the Feria and all over town, and we ended up in this restaurant where we ate these massive sandwiches called Olimpicos. They are rather ginormous. They have three pieces of bread and are filled with ham and eggs and olives and all sorts of stuff. It took me a while to decide if I liked them or not, but I decided I do like them. They're super interesting. I think they'll grow on me. But Ema and Diego are super cool. They help me with my pathetico Spanish and make me laugh. I can't wait to get to know them better.

k. Well that took up about a bazillion hours. But that's what's been going on here. I need to go run some errands. So I'm out. Miss y'all! Send letters! Or emails!

Blogging is Harder than I thought.

So every time I sit down to blog I realize that I have entirely way too much to say about everything. I suppose I can make a short list and come back to it later. So, so far in my life, there have been

-Ferrias
-Two Dollar Kittens
-Olimpicos
-Spanish. Some Spanish. Did I mention there's Spanish in my life?
-Walking ungodly amounts.
-New Friends
-Classes starting tomorrow.

I must say life is good.

Documenting.

I don't know if I am really going to have time to write allllll that has happened in the past 36 hours or so. But I shall do my best. I am exhausted and full of Steak and Potatoes, (I don't know why I capitalized those) so I don't know how much I can fully relay with humor and commentary because I am absolutely exhausted. But here I go.
We left school around 11. I was incensed because Mother Nature decided to pick a bone with me and flattened my hair to pancake status for the 20 minutes I was outside in the mist. Freaking mad. We had our prayer, our hugs, or, better to say, all the clique-y Oxford people hugged all of the people they couldn't bear to be separated from each other for any amount of time so they could continue to be their clique-y selves. Anyway. Whatever. We left and got to DFW around one.
Too bad our flight didn't leave until 6.
So DFW and I became really good friends. We hung out a lot, especially on the Skylink.
I went to Chili's with some friends in the B terminal and then we got coffee and then went back to D terminal. And still had like 4 hours before our flight left.
So then I took the Skylink to E. Why? I don't know. I ended up looking for books. I would.
I went back to the terminal to find we had even more time left because our flight got delayed like thirty minutes. So then we finally got on our plane and we all were looking at skymall magazine. That is probably the most hilarious thing I've ever read in my life. Who needs a cell phone holder that you put on your wrist? I mean really. It's hilarious. So that took a whole 15 minutes of the two and a half hour flight.
I don't really remember the rest of the flight. I think I read Dead Aid. Which is probably the most boring book known to man, talking bout bonds and the Dongo and China and all sorts of nonsense. I really wish that I had more prior knowledge of most things economic related before I read that book. Because I have no clue what that woman talks about most of the time. It’s slightly frustrated but I have vowed to myself that I will finish it. I only have about 50 more pages, and if I ever read it again in my life or ever need to brush up on the economic problems of Africa, I will have at least some basis of what I’m talking about instead of starting from scratch. Man, Africa has a lot of problems. You think it’s soo simple. Oh, oh no. Giving money to third world countries is bad idea. Baaaaad idea, lemme tell ya.
Anyway. We made it to Miami, our connecting destination, where we practically had to run to make the flight, and when we made it, where the flight from hell ensued. It was just bad and I cannot really explain to you why it was so horrible. I was comfortable, except I had the munchies for about 75% of the trip. I felt like I had smoked a HUGE pile of weed. Not that I smoke weed anyway, but still. That’s what I imagine that it would feel like. I sort of felt ok when we got our meal, but that was at like 1 o’clock in the morning. So my food system is all messed up. Well, it was. Now I’m just getting fat because of all of the amazing food I’m eating all of the time. I didn’t really sleep. It got off to a kind of bumpy start because apparently the air conditioner was rearing its ugly head of rebellion, so we had to sit on the plan for an hour and a half before the beast was tamed. So when we finally got out of North America, I slept on my tray table for a few hours, then I woke up to find everyone else was passed out, so there was no one to play with on the plane. For hours in endless agony I tried different ways to sleep; back on the tray table, sitting up, nothing could lull me back into a state of semi-consciousness. I tried for several hours in vain, only to drift into hazy slumber until the sun wedged its way through the cracks on the plane windows. We got fed breakfast, which I devoured, then I promptly changed into the pants and sandals that I had been carrying around in my backpack for the last 16 hours. After several more hours of listening to a dead ipod and looking around to see sleepyheads arise from their REM cycle. When the captain finally switched off the fasten seat belt sign, you cannot imagine the joy and relief that flowed from my soul. Finally. After driving, waiting, flying, running, sitting, flying/dying, I finally was going to land in the place I had been anticipating for months: Uruguay.
As I looked around when wheels and earth united, I saw sky. Lots of blue sky. Not my Africa sky, but a foreign South American sky. It was hot. Very hot. Very sunny. Lovely, obviously, coming from the frozen tundra known as Abilene. I felt like a genius as I walked off the plane with my legs exposed and my North Face jacket tucked neatly in my backpack. We went through customs very quickly, and I now have another stamp on my passport. Uruguay and Africa sound very exotic together, I think. Which I like. It makes me sound interesting. So if anyone ever begins to think I am a terribly boring person I can just whip out my passport and point and say, “I definitely am interesting. Botswana, Zimbabwe, AND Uruguay let me in. I have to be slightly fascinating.” But I never carry my passport with me anywhere. Hm.
After customs and baggage, we finally met the Walkers, who are fantastic. I really like both of them. They spent time in Botswana, which is way cool, because I can talk about it with them and bond over the sand and those moments where you just go ‘T.I.A.” So that’s rather exciting. They’re really nice people and I’m looking forward to getting to know them. So we finally got on the bus. Finally. Finally. We drove to Casa, the long way, and I got to see Uruguay. It’s rather foresty at some parts. Which was cool. Someone was selling hammocks on the side of the road. I enjoyed that and as I took a picture I tried justifying to myself the need for a hammock. I have nowhere to put a hammock.
Anyway. We finally saw the ocean. The beautiful Atlantic Ocean. And it was super comforting. Living by the beach for such a long amount of time allows huge expanses of sea to comfort you after being shell shocked from a bazillion hours of travel. As we drove along I taped it. I hope it’s warm because we are planning on going over there very soon. We stopped at this park and it was lovely. We all got out and took pictures of the ocean, the buildings and the sea squishing a swirling tan line up the coast, dotted with a lime or a polka-dot bathing suit. We could see all the way up the coast of Montevideo. Pretty cool, I must say.
I paused as I watched the Uruguayan flag wave in the breeze. I would be proud to be a Uruguayan under that flag; it was waving in proudly in a subtle way. It had a quiet and enduring grace as it stood on its coast, the blue in the flag and the clear blue sky complimenting each other. It was then I decided that Uruguay was fantastic and immediately took a liking to it.
After our brief stint at the park, or seawall, whatever it’s called, we made it to Casa. After about a million ours, I had reached home. Which is currently where I am sitting, typing this so that everyone in the states or wherever they are can read it. I’m in my room, a room across the courtyard, the best room, according to a certain wise and anonymous source. Abbey is my roommate and I cannot say how happy I am that she and I decided to room together. She is a fantastic person and I love her dearly and I cannot wait to share this adventure with her. If you leave our room and turn right, you immediately hit the courtyard, and walk into one of the main halls of the main house at Casa. Turn right and follow a hallway all the way down to the kitchen, which is what we did first the second we walked through the door. Raquel and Mariela were waiting for us with giant plates of empanadas de maiz, pollo, carne, y queso. And for desert, empanadas de dulce de leche.
Needless to say, it was amazing. We had been so hungry and it was wonderful to have a meal ready for us after we had been driving for so long. So after we had lunch upon arriving, we were forced against our will to familiarize ourselves with our surroundings. Which I didn’t mind in particular, except for the fact that the group I was in had someone that lost their ATM card within five minutes of being out in a totally unfamiliar city. So we went back to Casa and hung out, but then Jacob (the other guy in the group) and I went out and hit the town. We went to Tres Cruces, the ginormous bus stop and walked around like tourist for quite some time trying to find everything. But I am happy to know where the bus station is in case I decide that everyone is driving me crazy and I have to book it to Chile or something. Or Rio. Or maybe I’ll just sit in the bus station.
We got back and debriefed about our experiences around town. Which was terribly informative, I feel like it helped me get my lay of the land a lot better than if we just sat around with each other. Not that I don’t like sitting, or being with people, but it was definitely cool to know about where the cambio is and the nearest supermarket and all sorts of things like that. Which I like knowing. After we had our intro to Uruguay they told us we were going out to eat, to the Mercado de Abundancia. Which basically seemed like an old warehouse with restaurants and I think there were some stores inside. IT was funny how it was set up because there were a lot of tables set up everywhere where everyone sat, and then the places they actually prepared the food were in the corner. It wasn’t like you went in to a restaurant and it was all exclusive and closed off. All of these tables were separated by small gates and walkways, but they were all different restaurants, but all on the same floor, with the cooking areas in the back. It was funny because I noticed that in one corner it was a place where you could learn how to tango. Which is exceedingly exciting, because it’s sort of been a life dream of mine to become a tango beast. I cannot explain to you how epic that would be. Tango is some fun nonsense. But it’s hard. Really, really hard. I forgot to mention that below the restaurants/tangofest was a Mercado, where they sold all sorts of cool things, like handmade leather and mate gourds and all sorts of stuff like that. So after we had been looking around we went to eat, where I had my first chivito of this experience, and I must say that it was awesome. I got it sin mayonesa, which is probably going to be one of my more excellent life choices. But it was amazing. I don’t even know what all is in a chivito other than pure awesomeness. There’s ham, steak, cheese, lettuce, and egg all rolled into a meat pancake dish. It was served with potato salad, salad, and fries. So amazing. I wish I could eat them all the time but I decided that I am not going to eat them all of the time because then they won’t be as good or as special. But they were delicious. We had a little bit of ice cream after that and then took a taxi back to Casa. Taxis are probably by far the way to go.

I’m sorry that this blog is so lame now, I promise I’ll get pictures or videos up soon! And I promise that my writing will improve!

Boring Title. Impending Travel. Uncertainty.

I really have nothing to say other than I am in Texas, which just makes me smile.
But then also makes my stomach do a gymnastics act that would make Shawn Johnson jealous.

Because I am so close to leaving.
Scared.Nervous.Terrified.Excited.Anxious.Sad.

Not ready.

Yet this is the kind of opportunity I've dreamed about. Getting on a plane to some foreign place, getting ready for some big adventures and new experiences. New people, new learning opportunities. All mine. All sorts of moments that are just sitting in Uruguay, waiting for me to be seized and throttled within an inch of their lives.

But it's up to me to take them. To make sure I gather and throttle so many moments that Uruguay cannot even see straight. I pray to God that I will only be so bold as to take those moments, and not let them pass me by.

I hope I can stay consistent in this blog, because I know a lot of people are back home, wanting to read it. So I will to my best to write beautiful and humorous descriptions about this foreign land that will undoubtedly worm its way into my heart. I hope that lovely words will pour from my fingers and into this blog, and I hope that growth and maturity and certainty will emerge, like the fingers on the beach of Punto del Este.

Pray for me.

Why Am I Doing This. Why. ?!

I feel like these entries are getting repetitive because all I talk about is going to Uruguay, and how I don't know how I ended up signing up for Uruguay. But really. I am getting more scared to leave this country as the days fade into history. I feel like I want to ask everyone about Uruguay, but then I don't want any other perspectives of the country other than my own, because I know nothing about it, and publishing companies are extremely unhelpful regarding publishing books about Uruguay, even though they managed to scrape together enough information to make a book about the Sudan. I'm sure as many people go to Sudan as they go to Uruguay. But Sudan still has a book. And so does Fiji. When all you really do in Fiji is snorkel. And eat bananas. Or something.

Anyway.
I am trying to identify exactly why I am terrified. And I cannot. I suppose, more than anything, it's fear of the unknown. I don't know what I am expecting, and therefore I cannot ascertain whether or not I will like it or hate it, love it or despise it. Most people that went LOVED it, i.e. Brandon and Lawson and Morgan and whoever else I know that went there, but I'm just not sure if I will. The last time I said that I didn't know if I would love it, or even like it, was went I went to India. And if you know anything about me, you know how well that worked out.

I think that the one unrealistic expectation I have for Uruguay is what it is going to do for me. I feel like it is going to solve all of my problems, fix all of my character flaws, make me a better person overall, fix any bullcrap stuff I have going on with relationships and boys and people and my parents and my future, but it is not going to fix me. I believe that it will be a giant detangler of some sorts, I believe that it is going to help me figure things out about myself and other people, and in a way it will be a repairing time, but at the same time, Uruguay is not my savior. Jesus is my savior. If I have any hope of wanting to fix anything that is wrong with me, I have to go to him, not Uruguay. Though I expect to find Jesus in Uruguay in ways I wouldn't here. I think as long as I have that clear, it shouldn't be a problem.

Well. Portfolio calls. Screw you, portfolio.

It's Finally Starting to Sink In

I am going to Uruguay.

It never really hit me until as of late.
Like, yesterday. And the day before. And the day before.
And today.
I am leaving the country in 15 days. For 5 months.
A foreign country. Far away.

And I am going.

I honestly don't remember why I chose Uruguay. It seems like a weird choice, looking back. I don't feel like I feel like I fit the 'boho/hippie/chill' vibe that I am sort of getting from Uruguay. I feel like I would fit in better with England. But that's because England isn't a ton different from the states. I mean, they obviously have their differences. Like weird words and beans on toast (Kate Nash) and discos and subways and constitutional monarchies and all of that jazz. They didn't actually have jazz, come to think of it. Anyway, I guess it would just be easier to go to England because it would be little effort on my part to do anything. I would fall into comfortability easily. But in Uruguay, it's going to take a lot more effort. I finished reading the Study Abroad books and one of them, Cross Cultural Servanthood, by Duane Elmer, was really good. It was a book primarily oriented towards missions, like hardcore missionary work, but I could see how it would be applicable to me going to Uruguay. I don't really get why the kids going to England or Germany had to read those books. I highly doubt they'll get culture shock like the people going to Uruguay. Unless you're that much of a country bumpkin. But who knows. Maybe they are. They can't look fear in the eyes (fear = Uruguay) and saw 'rawr. Come and getcha sum, fear." Which is what I realized I have done. Maybe not literally. But figuratively, yes, since I am leaving in 15 days and haven't backed out.

I guess what I'm primarily worried about is the cultural differences. And being sure I'm sensitive and not going to perform some awful social gaffe that will humiliate me and shame Uruguay, so that when I leave they'll ask me to never come back ever. Like, I want to build relationships with the people and connect with them in a way that was sort of hard for me to do in India or Thailand or Botswana. Knowing Spanish will make it easier too, but I'm still nervous that I think my Spanish is good but end up looking like a fool. I mean, I know I'm going there to learn it more and be better and more proficient, but hello. I've taken freaking Spanish since I was 13. I should be mildly proficient. So, I don't know. I guess that's why I am the most nervous.

I was going to write more about what I found out about the country, but I am exhausted. So I will write tomorrow.

paz.

Yea, About That...

So apparently my outburst last time I posted was definitely not necessary.
I was apparently really, really upset. I don't even remember the anger factor now. I was just really, really mad. And it was sort of irrational. I definitely was just writing my feelings and not really thinking through a lot of stuff through. I mean, I had good points, I guess, but I was just thinking about me and not where my family is coming from.

I am going to Uruguay. I have to get a 3.75 to stay at ACU. So I'm aiming for a 4.0. Let's see how this works out.
So now I can continue to read and do whatever about this trip. Which I have been slacking on excessively, even though I am leaving in 19 days and I feel as though I should be done with all of this by now, but whatever. I really should get cracking so I can finish in the next few days to show how responsible and on top of things I am to my parents so they'll let me go back to God's country sooner and get a last party in before I put my nose to the grindstone in getting some good grades. Preferably, a party in Lubbock. I really don't need to say more.

I realized that I can't focus and write this now. So, I'm just updating/apologizing for my ridiculousness.

K. That's all. Peace.