my host mom called me fat (or a collection of self-reflections)

Technically, she used the word gordita as a term of endearment, but it still made my stomach flip. (Kind of like that time my mom called my brother a little shit for figuring out his Christmas present early... kind of...). Apparently, none of the girls she's hosted in the past have eaten as, erm, well as I do. It's not that hard, really, I just tend to finish whatever she puts on my plate - I figure it's common courtesy and a simple way of becoming more accustomed to the culture by assimilating into family life. And I've been running and playing a lot of pick-up so clearly I'm not sedentary, and really I shouldn't have any need to justify myself. Nevertheless, when Angeles pinched my bum and said 'oi! gordita!' while I was helping her a bit with getting our dinner plates ready, I couldn't help but do a double take. I think it'd be a bit dramatic to say that this simple encounter sent me spiraling, but it has caused me to think, a lot, and especially about who I am as a person, who I believe myself to be and who others perceive me as. Haha maybe that's a little deep, but bear with me. I should first clarify that I've had a lot of time to think since I've been here. I actually wouldn't say that I have much more down time here than I do at Duke, but it's more that I don't have a dozen pressing things to do during my tiempo libre and so it's given me the opportunity to reflect a bit. About since spring of my senior year of high school, I've kind of been fascinated with the idea of how we define ourselves (for a final project, I had to create a metaphor for my definition of 'the self' and the idea has just kind of stuck since arriving at college and essentially recreating my life). So I guess here are some rambling thoughts that this trip has thus far produced for me.

1. I'm an enigma, racially. I honestly don't really know how to talk about race or ethnicity in the most politically correct terms, so I guess I'll just explain how I feel. It seems to me that wherever I go, especially outside of touristy areas and in more places where I actually interact with real madrilenos, I'm stared at. It's not just the oh-look-at-the-obnoxious-american-tourists stares that we attract when travelling in large groups (especially on the Metro), nor is it a particularly uncomfortable and lustful stare of forward foreign men. I don't know that I can adequately describe it, but it's kind of like people glance at me, as everyone glances at everyone else in public settings just long enough to register that there's a person sitting across from you and assess that this person means no danger, and then they glance again, and then they stare and their heads cock to the side ever so slightly. They hear me speak in Spanish to my clearly American classmates and only grow more confused - my accent is not like theirs. De donde es? Inevitably they ask, interestingly enough using the formal form of es instead of the more informal eres as I should deserve due to my age. De los estado unidos. Estoy aqui estudiando para un curso corto del verano. I reply. O, es que no me parece americana. Bueno, que disfrute de la ciudad y que tenga un buen dia. End of conversation. This quick exchange has occurred at least a dozen times with the most random of strangers (all amicable, I assure you), but what I can't figure out is why? Have no fear, it's not particularly put me in a position to question my self-image, but I'm intrigued and I guess to some degree wondering if this is something I will forever face as I grow older and immerse myself more in the world. Again, it's not particularly molestante, but it is a little off-putting and kind of makes me throw up a guard. I've always been proud to be half-Asian, and still am, I only wonder why it is that now, of all times in my life, it feels so much more defining.
2. I am privileged, greatly. Thanks to modern technology, I've been able to keep close in contact with a lot of my friends (in addition to my family, of course, though I'm sure they wish I'd call home more often...). Studying abroad and partaking in 'civic engagement' via the Gates family founded DukeEngage program have culturally evolved to the point where they are not merely great opportunities but rights of passage. And so I find myself fluctuating back and forth between basking in awe at the fact that I've been afforded this amazing experience, and fighting down pangs of jealousy as I hear of the adventures of my friends in random countries or obscure corners of the US doing things that are actually helping people. My goal for the summer was to find a way to cement my fluidity in the Spanish language, and I think that by the end of the program, it will have been accomplished. However, the longer I stay here, the more I sense a nagging feeling in my gut to go out and do something better. One of my greatest regrets to date is that I've never actually done any kind of a service project before. Maybe it's lofty and very first-world of me to say that, but it's true. I don't believe in doing random service for the sake of ticking off hours on a chart or for thoughtlessly passing time to waste, rather I've always said that I think service is something that deserves the heart and soul. It's something you should throw yourself into. But I am a hypocrite as I talk so loftily of an experience I've never had. In all honesty, I almost feel as if God is trying to tell me "You're ready. I've given you gifts and talents and skills and privilege, now figure out how to use them, all of them, to contribute to my Creation." So maybe that's a little intense, but it's true. I had actually written out and submitted an application for a DukeEngage program this summer, but unfortunately it was cancelled for administrative reasons. I think this has been the summer to travel, to safely learn more about myself and about the cultured world so that later on (next summer perhaps?) I can find something that strikes me close enough to home to spark my passions and somehow give back to the world. I want to do more than just work at a desk or party my summer away. I want to make an impact. Please, I ask you do not take anything I have said here to mean that I am at all ungrateful of anything. It is imperative that as you read this you understand that I am so incredibly blessed by this opportunity (and should probably do a better job of showing that to the people who have made it possible). Perhaps the best way to word this is to say that this trip, as opposed to having given closure to any life goals, has so far proved to whet my appetite for more. So far it has been a time, not necessarily of asserting my independence but of understanding what it means to be independent in a way that even while living on my own at Duke I'd never be able to simulate. The trip has taught me how to walk through the world in a way that respects those around me, but also strives to better understand their ways of life. After having gotten to know a bunch of the guys while playing pick-up, as well as a number of other ni-ni's (short for ni trabajar, ni estudiar, so 'neither works nor studies' - aka unemployed jovenes between the ages of 16 and 30) while out and about with our group at night, I've learned to appreciate anew my education. While at Duke, it's easy to complain about this, whine about that or lament the work-load, but so much more important, so much more precious are the purpose it gives us along with the opportunity to figure ourselves out. For now, though, I remind myself to enjoy the moment and the open doors of adventuras cotidianas as I continue to see what this country has in store for me.
3. I'm not an athlete, technically. But sport is so much more than that. In high school, I could never find the words to explain my sport or my love for it. It's something that ties my family together, and it is a vehicle through which I've been able to make friends and meet people. Not to go too far into it, but there's a lot you can read about a person in the way he or she plays. From how much she focuses on technique, to how well he predicts the play, to her awareness of her teammates, to his preference for one foot over the other, and with the ironic help of the language barrier itself as I'm forced to focus more on people than on words, I'm starting to understand how to unveil a persons personality through his or her body language. The sport also gives me an opportunity to express myself without words and without conscious thought - it makes me focus on something other than my thoughts and leaves them to sort themselves out. Over the past two years or so, it has also served as a reference point of sorts for me as my own approach to the sport has radically transformed. The competition used to be my be-all-end-all, without it, I was restless and I didn't know what to do. And then I was the girl who wanted to walk-on, the girl who was always playing with the boys, the quiet and reserved and almost brooding one on the club team. And then I came to know myself by my adamant rejection of the sport and all things associated with it as I immersed myself, almost to the point of drowning, in school work and extracurriculars and things I didn't actually care about to distract myself from the fact that I could no longer play the way I used to. Now, now I think I've finally come to terms with myself and soccer in accepting that it pertains not only to me, but to the world and that as long as I respect it in all of its forms, it will continue to serve me as an avenue for coming to know and understand the cultures and people around me.
4. I'm a nerd, completely. Many on the program have been complaining - of the content of the courses, of their organization, of our tourist trips, of the old people on the bus, of a wasted night when they can't find a good club. Though my family may negate it, I don't particularly consider myself the complaining type, at least not now. Maybe it's because of this, or more likely it is because I am inherently a nerd and enjoy learning in all of its forms, but I feel like I'm about the only person legitimately enjoying the classes here. I suppose it could also have something to do with the fact that the courses are so distinct from the math-y ones I've grown accustomed to during my first two years in Pratt. Nonetheless, I feel like I'm learning something and that, however inutil it may seem now, I'm sure that it will have some use later in life. Ok, so maybe I'm never going to need to prove that I know the correlation of the subjects and styles of Goya's work with Spanish history, but at the least I can say that I have a better understanding of how to look for clues to history within not only the content but the minute details and the artistic process of a work. Or that could just be bullshit, but it's bullshit I find interesting. I only wish I didn't feel like one of the only ones who is actually reading every page of every book we are assigned. I suppose some things never change.
5. I'm not fat. And hopefully, I never will be. Better said, I'd like to try to strive to always be proud and make the most of the space on earth that I am privileged enough to call my own.