Recognition

Today I received the first raise of my life, and I didn't even ask for it. I was informed by my private students' mother that the kids absolutely adored class time with me and so she and her husband had decided that they would like to pay me more from now on.

I was floored.

I know I'm good at what I do. I see it when the quiet kid in the class raises her hand when I take charge of the class. I see it when all 23 students do their workbook exercises after I spent ten minutes the previous week admitting to them I never did workbook exercises either, but explaining to them that if they put on good music and made it a game, they might actually learn a few cool things from it. I see it when they run up to me and gush about something that just happened, and I can see in their eyes they don't even realize anymore they're gushing about it in a foreign language. I see it when students from last year and last summer email me or txt me.

But this whole adults seeing it too thing? And being offered more money out of the blue? That's bewildering.

This whole time I felt like it was a secret between me and my kids. A secret adults could never be privy to. And I was okay with that. Watching the conspiratory grins on all the familiar young faces when I give examples on the board pertaining to zombies and narwhals. Watching the lightbulbs go off when I finally explain something in such a silly way that they all grasp it without realizing the actual difficulty behind the concepts. Watching them enjoying learning and - more than even that - watching the self confidence blossom in even the most timid. Teaching for me is a form of magic, and as far as I knew, the average grown up doesn't believe in magic.

So when the mom seemed to glimpse into the magical world of it all and come out of it not only praising me, but increasing my pay, it was enchanting. It'd be like somebody popping into Peter Pan's world and handing him some gold and telling him he was doing a great job flying around with small children! To be recognized like that for something I so adore and take so much pride in doing was an ineffable feeling. Maybe my talent isn't invisible after all. Maybe it's just beginning to take off.

2014

Six minutes until 2014. Six minutes to reflect on 2013.

This past year was for me to grow self-confident. That's what its purpose was. That's how it served me. The most important part of 2013 was working at the summer camp in La Manga for four weeks. I had never felt so happy in just being myself. Now that I've had a taste of what that's like, I want that for good. I want it to keep. Not something I leave behind when summer is over. My month at camp showed me a self-confidence I didn't know was in me. It all started out as a playful risk, and turned into 40 kids' perspectives being shifted. And it was all because I didn't care what anybody else thought. And because I chose not to complain for one moment, but to see the negatives as either opportunities to have a beer on the complainers' tabs or as amusement. Some of that summer camp self-confidence has noticeably faded, but now I know it's there... I know what's possible and I'm willing to go after it this next year.

My biggest obstacle was self-doubt. For 2014, I want that cleaned out for good. Fifteen years is long enough to have carried it with me. I'm ready to thank it for its well meaning attempt at protecting me, and bury it right here in Sweden. This year I saw myself truly shine and I know that the self-doubt isn't truth. Self-doubt in myself, my talents and my relationships. All out.

#12cosasquequieroen2014

Life
1) To dance more.
2) To learn a brand new talent.
3) To live in a tropical place near a beach.

Relationships
4) To always feel respected, adored and important in all close relationships and friendships.
5) To gain a close and diverse network of friends I cherish and can truly be myself around.
6) To have an intellectually stimulating, playful, mature, adventurous, respectful, supportive relationship in which love is freely given and I always feel absolutely adored - and not getting in my own way of it.

Me
7) To write daily Good Things and thrive with a sanguine perspective.
8) To stop comparing myself to others and worrying about others' judgements of me.
9) To always be grateful to be me, to adore me, to be self-confident and to remember to look at my wrist often and smile, knowing.

Career
10) To work with people I respect and enjoy.
11) To be financially responsible and financially comfortable.
12) To have a job where my unique talents are highly valued and appreciated.

Akershus

The ereatheral poise in the silouetted figure's gait reinforces the fortress walls, making them seem taller than they were five minutes ago. Five minutes ago I was just another tourist, walking up the slick, glistening cobblestone path, taking photos of the orbs of light bobbing on the black water below. A subtle, ineffable peacefulness had settled over me as I'd realized I was all alone in a bailey that had began witnessing history 30 lifetimes ago.

This tranquility had coaxed me towards the arched entryway leading to the castle. I'd glanced up at the walkway atop the entryway where the guards used to keep watch. "Allure!" I'd grinned, surprised I'd remembered the technical term I'd learned in some high school history class. But the grin quickly faded when I noticed something move along the allure.

It was was the outline of the plumed bowler hat that tied my ankles together. It was the outline of the bayonet that sucked the air out of me.

Utter silence deafens my ears, causing them to ring slightly. My little toe goes numb as my boots surrender to the damp earth. A rancid taste of nothingness seeps into my dry tongue. The only parts of me that seem to still function are my eyes, pupils having driven out the irises, which follow the figure intently as it marches right to left, with such slow grace that it almost seems to float.

As I continue watching, the consistency in the figure's movement begins to melt my startled fear into a cautious sense of security. I scold myself for not immediately realizing the figure is merely a member of Norway's Hans Majestet Kongens Garde. "The bayonet is an odd touch," I think to myself, "but it has a certain quaintness to it, I suppose."

Upon reaching the end of the length of the allure, I expect the guard to turn around and continue left to right. But instead, he disappears, descending down the allure's steps. Transfixed, I wait for the figure to reach the bottom and pass through the entryway. But nothing appears. Nothing?

Without thinking, courage takes fear hostage, and I run through the entryway and climb the stairs to the allure. When I reach the top, a subtle, ineffable peacefulness is the last thing that settles over me as I realize I am all alone...

Puddles

I'm sitting in the lobby of my hostel in Oslo. I have been sitting in the lobby of my hostel in Oslo for the past four and a half hours. Today I learned that the next time I plan a trip to a country alone during a holiday, I should research whether that country decides holidays are time to completely shut down for nearly 72 hours. Oops.

I spent the two hours of the day in which things where actually open walking the main streets and getting thoroughly soaked in the windy drizzle. Delightful. My initial reaction to the city itself was that it was a lot more elegant than I was expecting. Everything feels new. I was expecting some gnomes and rocking horses I guess, but so far it's four story malls and historic yet elegant buildings. I guess you need to get out of the city to find the old-world charm. Makes sense.

I know I'm only a day into it all, but I've been thinking about it, and I think that I would like to retrace my steps of the travels I've done, but instead of going to all the major cities, go to the tiny towns. Next time, I'd go way up north in Norway to see the Northern Lights. I would go way up north in Sweden to stay at the Ice Hotel. Things like that. I'm glad I'm seeing the cities now, but at some point I'd like to see the lesser-known parts of these places. It's like somebody who's only been to New York thinking they know all of the US...

Anyway, I've been sitting in the lobby pondering the challenge placed before me: how do I fill two full days in a foreign country when nothing's open and I'm all alone? Last year's two week adventure was so much different because I couchsurfed the whole time and never had a single idle moment. I was always with somebody doing something. And I ADORED it. But this time, I'm flying solo for the first two countries, and I think the optimism and tenacity I would usually have are being squelched by the fact my cold isn't getting any better and I really just want to be cuddled up in bed right now.

So I've allowed myself to sit here, coughing all over myself, eating my Dutch caramel waffle cookies (they had them at the supermarket here!!) and allowing a damp sense of hopelessness and loneliness puddle around me for a little while. I know that tomorrow, after sleeping in a real bed, finally showering and eating a real meal (and maybe finding a pharmacy for more cough medicine) I'll be ready and open to adventure. But for right now, I'm not, and that's okay.

I did at least use this down time to plan out what I'll be doing in Oslo for the next three days, and I'm excited for the hike in the forest, the stroll through the garden of crazy statues, the giant ski jump and ski museum, the nine minute toboggan ride outside the city, the Viking ship museum, and an afternoon of window shopping and a cookie hot chocolate at Cocoa in the alternative/artsy neighborhood. But if I'm going to do all those things sanguinely, I definitively needed tonight to plan and recharge.

Germany

My limited observations on Germany after having been here a whopping seven hours:

1) German as a language isn't nearly as harsh sounding as it's made out to be. I would argue Spanish teenagers make more of those gross glottal noises (think: the sound of a cat hacking up a hairball) when they speak slang than Germans do in normal conversation. In fact, if you're not paying attention, it almost sounds like English. Obviously, German and English are super closely related, but for me, German has always been the uncouth uncle who burps at the other end of the table. Turns out, I might have had him pegged wrong this whole time.

2) Because they are related, I could sometimes pick up on a few key words when people asked me questions and nod or shake my head in response. That was fun, until they'd keep talking to me and I'd finally have to ask "What?" and they looked at me confusedly.

3) You know how I just said that if you're not paying attention, German can start to sound like English? Well, it can... but the only words it sounds like are curse words! I swear I heard "dick" and "fuck" a million times today. The first makes sense, as I'm pretty sure "dich" means "you," but I can't explain the other one. Maybe "fuch" means "them" or something? Whatever the logical, linguistic explanation is, it doesn't make hearing those words so often and out of context completely hilarious.

4) Teenage German girls look like they are the molds for popular teenage American girls. I've never seen so many blonde hair, blue eyed girls in my life. But I don't mean model types, but cute, chubby cheeks types. Maybe it's just that I've lived in Spain too long (if you see a blonde, you KNOW they're foreign)... but seeing something other than dark brown hair/dark brown eyes was disorienting and exciting!

5) Brats, pretzels and strudel are German. Now, after typing that, that seems obvious, but I never would have thought about it had I never been here. These three things are everywhere here. At the airport. At the metro stations. At the Christmas Market. And, I mean, they make a kinda weird combo, too. But there they are, proudly proclaiming their Germanness.

6) The Berlin Wall was taken down the year after I was born. THAT is really weird to honk about, especially when you're standing in front of it. I found it interesting how they had poles or bricks or other markers to show where it had been. The one I saw cut through a busy street and a METRO STATION. I read that that station was shut down and the entrances were literally bricked shut because that station stopped on the wrong side of the wall. My whole life I considered Europe to be a classy, sophisticated continent with rich history that gave each country it's own depth. But when I see things like the Berlin Wall and hear stories about Franco from the mid-70s, suddenly Europe doesn't seem like the wise grandfather I always considered it to be.

Chicago

Freshman year my dorm organized a day trip to the German Christmas Markets in Chicago. It was a terrible, near-blizzard sort of day and perfect for staying inside and cuddling with a movie, but I had been waiting for weeks for the outting and wouldn't let the weather get in my way. I left J to fend for herself inside my tiny room for the day and bounded for the bus.

Looking back, the German Christmas Market in Chicago wasn't really anything terribly exciting, but to 19 year old me, it was as close as I'd ever come to a European Christmas, and I loved it! I was mesmerized by the cuocuo clock stand and the man explaining how each of them worked in his thick accent. I was enchanted by the warm scents of candied nuts and cider. I pranced along to the little quartets with their festive singers. It was all just so... foreign and exciting!

As I wound my way through the market for the millionth time, snowflakes dusting my eyelashes, I thought to myself, "How amazing would it be to go to a real German Christmas Market?! I mean, to get in a plane and fly to Berlin or Munich and lose yourself in the REAL THING?!" The image made me giggle to myself, but I gently brushed it aside as a quaint little fantasy.

"Nobody would really fly all the way to Germany just to go to a Christmas market, Chels. That's a loooong way just for a little festive shopping!"

It's moments like the one I'm in right this second that I wish I could go back in time and give younger Chelsea a tiny little message. If I could, I would go back and find her in downtown Chicago and show her our plane ticket and give her a little wink.

Still, as I sit on this plane, I can hardly believe it myself. That a tiny little wish I made one afternoon five years and two weeks ago is coming true all because I stumbled upon a flight with an overnight layover in Berlin! That in a few hours, after stopping first to see the Berlin Wall, I will find myself strolling through one of Germany's largest Christmas Markets, drinking mulled wine or hot cocoa and perusing each stall, taking in the sights, smells and sounds of it all.

Man, 19 year old Chelsea would be THRILLED. But not quite as thrilled as 24 year old Chelsea is right now. ;) Thirty minutes until touchdown! Holy. Crap.

Jitters

A little known fact about me is that right before a big adventure, I suddenly find myself scared SHITLESS. I try to keep it a secret. I rather keep up my image as the fearless, jet-set type. But I shall forever carry proof of it in the form of a small hole.

...

May 2011. I had less than 24 hours before my flight to Spain, and instead of bouncing around, giddy and excited, I found myself sobbing in the parking lot of a Target. And so I called Sammy. We went on a pre-adventure adventure to take my mind off of the growing pit in my stomach.

She'd suggested maybe going out for Krispy Kremes or going to the mall and walking around, but I needed something a little more intense to deal with my anxiety. "Freaky's?" she asked me, eyebrow raised. It was the first smile I'd felt in days, so I made a sharp turn into their parking lot.

A half hour later, I walked out with a pierced lip Monroe and enough courage to last me until my plane ride the next morning.

 ...

What really scares me is that I know that I will never be who I was before I left for the adventure. There's almost a little period of mourning that I go through right before leaving. It's like attending a sliver of a second of your own funeral. And it's sad. And scary. Because you don't know who you're going to come back as, and how that will affect your life as you currently know it.
...

I am incredibly content and cozy where I am right now in my life. Incredibly. Which is another thing that adds to my apprehension. Last year when I went on my two week adventure, everything had just fallen apart and I couldn't wait to get AWAY from it all. But this year things are quite the opposite. And so to willingly leave this reality for an unknown one for two weeks takes a little more...oomph.

...

But the second I wake up, ALL of this fear and anxiety will miraculously have disappeared. I will be jumping around squealing like a little girl on Christmas morning.