Weeks 1 & 2

Hello folks!

Well it’s already been two weeks now since I arrived here in Spain and so much has happened. I meant to update this last week, when I was exploring the town but I never got around to it because it felt like I was in a whirlwind of new experiences “nuevas experiencias”.

Okay well I will start with briefly outlining the 21^st of September, which was the day that I left Manchester. It was an early start – 5 am out of bed..! Mum drove me to the airport and we got there about 6 because no one was on the motorway that early (thankfully). My plane wasn’t due to leave until 7:45 so we had a bit of time to sit and chat before I had to head off through the gates. When it got to about 6:30 I made a move and all of a sudden, instead of just getting on with it and making those “easy” steps towards departures, I found myself clinging on to my mum, my ultimate “security blanket” and I began to break down in tears. All of a sudden it hit me that I don’t feel confident doing this this time. I’ve done this before and yet this time there was a huge part of me that wanted to just get back in the car with her, drive home and forget all about this crazy idea to live in Spain. I felt like I wanted to be 5 years old again – who ever gave me permission to be a grown up?

She’s an experienced mum though and she wasn’t about to let me give up so easily. After a bit of teary hugging and last minute prayers, I made it through the doors a little shakily. After that, there was a MANIC security queue and scanning my bag took ages, resulting in me almost missing my flight but fortunately I didn’t. I arrived safely in Murcia San Javier around 11am Spanish time and then started the long-winded journey to get to Lorca, some 98km away. Yeah. Talk about provincial. It took me one taxi, two buses and one train to get to the lovely little town of Lorca. Once there, I took a few photos at the station whilst waiting for Rúben, who is the son of the people I am staying with here until I find a place to live. He and his family are really lovely, warm people and I have to say, I hope that we stay friends throughout my time here. It already kind of feels like they’re my family too a bit now.

My first tortilla (on the Autobus)

The view from my room

More view

Beer & train station

Exploring Lorca

The "river"

The castle of Lorca (yet to be explored by me)

Katherine! My only other English friend

Diarying in Murcia

Exploring Murcia

Tapas with Rúben (AKA Spanish "sushi)

One word about tapas: Sushi-like. Just not Japanese, with wasabi, soy sauce or chopsticks. In some places you just go in and choose from a glass container thing what you want - the prices are written above - and you eat what you like! Here I have a shot of gazpacho, tortilla, salmon, chorizo and "ensaladilla rusa" ("Russian" salad).

Since arriving, there have been some ups and downs with work already. I am employed by the government to work at a state primary school (Alfonso X El Sabio if anyone is interested) for 12 hours a week for 8 months (1^st October-31^st May). That is legitimate, official and the Spanish government know that I am doing that.

Or do they?

Well that was one of the problems that I encountered. The day before I was supposed to start work, I went into the primary school to check everything out, meet some of my classes and do any paperwork that needed doing (like signing a contract). It turns out that there were some papers I was supposed to send to the Consejeria de Educacion (Education govt people of Murcia) BEFORE starting work – and oh by the way I also need the equivalent of a national insurance number (NIE) before tomorrow at work.

So it was a lot to take in, considering NO ONE had told me this, no one had given me any warning about these requirements that I had to do myself upon arrival. I began to panic inwardly and outwardly and my mentor teacher said “No te pasa nada – let’s just get a coffee and think about this”. This relaxed attitude is something that I have not been able to get my head around since arriving. How can you tell someone – “Don’t worry about it!” in the same breath as “This is really important and if you don’t do this by tomorrow you can’t work”? “No te pasa nada” is one of my favourite Spanish expressions, because it sounds so beautiful, breathy and carefree and you can imagine someone enveloping you in a cocoon of Spanish warmth as they tell you this…but…it doesn’t always solve your problems.

So basically it took me two trips to Murcia (1 hour train ride either way) to get my papers handed in to the Consejeria, two trips to the bank to pay for a thing called a “tasa” (a paper I needed in order get a national insurance number seeing as I did not pay for a visa) and then two trips to the Oficina de Extranjeria, a two and a half hour wait to finally be presented with the piece of paper that will allow me to be a real human being in Spain for the next eight months. It contains an important number which will get me my salary, allow me to open a bank account, entitle me to social security, etc.

So I will start on Monday now, which is tomorrow. Watch this space – there will be updates in next week’s entry most probably about working at this primary school.

In addition to that, I’ve also managed to find myself another job in the evenings. I wondered before I got here what I would do with my spare time (as 12 hours “working” is nothing and the salary is not as high as other countries in British Council) and it was quite a blessing that this other job opened up. It is teaching English in the evenings Monday-Friday, 8 hours a week. I have done one lesson there so far (9-11 year olds) and it seems to be a pretty standard TEFL job but with younger students rather than adults.

On the whole, I think both jobs are going to be useful experiences for me. I think it will enable me to see whether I like teaching primary and early secondary, if I ever do make the step to become a full-on teacher one day (again – that’s one career choice amidst a sea of others in my mind at the moment). But mainly, I think it gives me more of a routine here. The working day is broken up here – it’s technically 9am-8PM with a break from 2-5PM when families go home, eat together, have a rest and prepare for the final three hours of work which are later in the day. It is a huge contrast to England’s 9-5 working day where you don’t really get a proper break except for lunch which, from my experience this summer, can end up being a bit work-like because sometimes you don’t even leave your desk.

People mock the Spaniards a bit for this 2-5pm “siesta” thing but there are some positive aspects to it. For me, it means that I can finish up work at the primary school by 2pm, have something to eat then head to the other school before 5pm to prepare my lessons for the evening and then go home. And then the weekends are free! So unlike the old life working late into the night as a barmaid from Friday to Sunday – bleeeurgh.

Anyway, as this next week unfolds at work, I will get to see what it is like working at both places. Like all jobs, there will be some positives and negatives but the most important thing is to be thankful that I have found work.

Since arriving, there have been some difficult adjustments to make in terms of the culture, attitudes of people here and language issues. I have been very fortunate to have made friendships already – there is another girl from the UK called Katherine here in Lorca. She also works at the evening school. We are sort of in the same boat in terms of everything. We don’t know much about this region at all and we’ve both experienced culture shock. For me it’s been especially in relation to the language – I feel as if I’ve been thrown into the deep end big time with Spanish. I’ve got a strong base level – meaning I can make myself understood for the most part and if people explain things clearly and evenly then I can understand. But day to day, people talk so fast and about 70% of the time I don’t think I understand. I am having some problems expressing myself in idiomatic situations, like telling jokes and stories for example. My aim by the end of the year is to be able to understand gists at least 80% of the time and express myself more and use idiomatic language more confidently. Bit by bit, with regular study and practise, these are manageable goals.

When you make the decision to travel, it has the potential to change you for the better but it also has a massive impact on you. It tears you away from everything which is familiar and makes you more vulnerable emotionally.

Even before arriving, as I have mentioned, I did not feel confident deep down inside. I knew on the surface that I was capable of doing all the stuff I’ve done before – attempting to communicate, doing admin, making friends etc – but deep down inside I was thinking I can’t put myself through this change again, it’s too difficult emotionally. I want to be in a safe, secure and familiar surrounding where there’s no risk for me to feel unsettled and vulnerable in my soul.

Those were my initial fears and to be honest, they are still lurking there. Every other day I am here I think about what I’ve left behind in England. There’s the career ladder, which sounds boring but it’s sensible and when I think where I am going in the future, I panic. There’s people I love and miss, which needs no further explanation. Then there’s the familiar ground of my own country – although I love being a part of a foreign culture and integrating into the language and lives of those who are foreign, there’s something about belonging to a country and nationality that keeps you pulled together. My life has been so full of moving from here to there that it just seems normal to have to be on the move constantly – whether that’s abroad or in my “home” country.

In short, these past two weeks have been a big challenge to me. I feel totally out of my depth here; more than once I have felt that I should go home because I don’t understand how this is ever going to fit all together and make a positive difference to my future. In my head, I had this “easy life” pictured: a beach, a siesta or two, no language problems and a sense of security in myself. At the moment, this is not the reality that I am experiencing. I think I am at square one and there are many steps to climb in order to make this year count.

There is one thing that holds me together in this confusing and somewhat difficult time. Although I do feel very much like I am a bit stranded out in the ocean, out of my depth, feeling like I’m going to drown under things like this strange culture, language and lack of “security” on all sides, I know that God is with me wherever I go. This is something that I have always known to be true, wherever I am, but it has never felt more reassuring than it does now. I am reminded of a verse that appears in Psalm 36: 5. It is also in a song by Hillsong called You are My Strength, in Spanish Eres Mí Fortaleza.

“Your love O Lord, reaches to the heavens,

Your faithfulness to the skies.”

“Tu amor Senor, llega hasta los cielos,

Tu fidelidad, nunca fallará.”

It’s short and simple but so powerful. Having this knowledge now, at this moment in my life, gives me this sense of security when all else around me seems very insecure.

So on that note, I will leave this blog entry there because it’s already an essay!

Until next time.

xx

Guess who's back, back again

Hello all!

Long time, no blog it would seem. Well I’ve decided to re-open this blog which I kept on my year abroad in Paris (and the last time I was in Spain, summer 2013). A lot has happened since then, even though it has only been a year.

First of all, I finally graduated this summer – four years of hard work that at times seemed like it was never going to end well! – but it did end well, I got my degree and the grades I wanted.

My sister Kate got married and also is expecting a little girl in November! SO EXCITED to be an aunty. I’m going to shower this lucky girl with presents that are glittery or have mermaids/ballerinas on them….

My housemates and I just spent the summer working in Southampton all together – well except Debs sadly! It’s OK I think she’s enjoying Switzerland! We all somehow got summer jobs working at the university which meant that we got to stick around in Southampton/delay final goodbyes for another three months. In a side note by the way, I never expected to get this summer job at the university. I was set up to do what I did last summer, café/restaurant/bar work but honestly the first job I got in June was depressing as anything – working in an ice cream shop – but at the time I desperately needed money. So when I heard that I had got this other job (MUCH better money, working with my university friends and using my brain) I was so happy I literally can’t describe to you all the happiness I felt. Which was just as well for me because although I really enjoyed working at university, it was quite a long and intensive job and there were a few moments mid-way through/towards the end that I felt tired and that the end was not in sight. But everything was wrapped up nicely and saying goodbye to all my colleagues who have become good friends was quite bittersweet.

In fact, speaking of bittersweet stuff, that leads me quite nicely onto the next part, which was leaving Southampton. I realised this summer that this year has probably been the longest period of time that I have remained in this city – previous years I only really was there mid-September until mid-June and then I would be off somewhere in the summer. But this year, I only spent about 2 weeks at home over Christmas then a couple of days for the wedding, then in Easter (because of my dissertation panic) I only went home for a weekend. Then barring a couple of weekends over the summer period, I spent all of my time in Southampton. It inevitably made me feel quite attached to it and leaving was hard because that meant leaving somewhere that had finally become like a stable ‘base’ for me. 

Southampton had become somewhere that I knew I would always return to because of university.

Which leads me on to my next bit – the ‘reason’ for this blog re-opening! Saying goodbye to people in Southampton and saying goodbye to it as a place was harder for me than I can express in words really. I didn’t give it any thought in my last week there because I was so focused on practical things like seeing various individuals, packing up my stuff (never an easy task pour moi!) and just mentally preparing myself for a pretty long journey back to Manchester with suitcases AND a bike! But now I’ve been at home for a week now, I’ve been feeling sad about leaving Southampton and also leaving Manchester, two places I underestimated a lot. Both are places where I have had security, stability and good friends. Leaving people is always one of the hardest things to do and just because I do it often doesn’t mean it gets easier.

So that leads me onto the next bit which is – now I’m a graduate what am I doing? The answer is moving to Spain. I guess the only thing I can say is this: I didn’t know I would be going there this time last year and I’m not sure if it where I thought I would be going earlier on this year! But after applying for various things and getting rejected (from French jobs) and getting accepted by some (jobs in Russia) I decided that doing a language assistantship in Spain was the best way forward. It has many pros – I will be earning money, I will finally be improving my rusty Spanish and the part time nature of the job gives me time to have Spanish hobbies (salsa, the beach, SANGRIA) but also to think about what it is that I want to do next in life.

Even though I am looking forward to Spain, I am not going to deny that I am a little bit apprehensive about LIFE. I was so sure last September that I would have a career plan by this point. But I really don’t know anything for certain. There are so many things that are possible but none of them are guaranteed yet. Depending on who I talk to, this is either positive or negative. I fluctuate between “WHAT AM I DOING” and “I LOVE BEING FREE FROM THE CAREER TREADMILL”. I think at this very moment I am thinking the first, if I’m honest. It’s probably because I don’t know the area that I am going to in Spain, I have no idea what to expect about who I’m going to meet, what I’m going to realise and decide next year and exactly what difficulties I will encounter during this next year abroad. I start panicking sometimes and get flashbacks of the rural French town with no internet, furniture-less apartment and cancelled trains that made up my entire first three months of my French year abroad.

In spite of all this, there is another side to me that knows this is just an emotional reaction to leaving. I don’t know what the future holds at all after Spain – and I don’t know what Spain holds for me. All I know is that I am in this now and backing out is not an option.

On that note, I feel that I have rambled on far too long and you get the point – I’m in limbo and my emotions are not quite aligned with the changes that have occurred over the past six months. But I think I should end this post on a positive note by saying that everyone who I have worked with or spent time with during these past months – Southampton and Manchester – you’ve all been fabulous and I’m going to miss you. It is never goodbye, just “see you later”. 

Where I will be next year.

Exodus

Well this is my last blog post about my year abroad! I arrived back in the UK two days ago after a very weird week of packing up and saying goodbye.

There are lots of different emotions I felt at leaving but I guess all I can say is that it has been a good year (7 months). The first three months were crazy and disorganised and I felt so in-transit the whole time that it was almost as if I wasn't actually treating my flat as my own space, my own home. But these past few months of living with Dora made me realise how much I needed someone to live with.

There were visits around France and Europe which allowed me to see good friends and reminded me of how much there is I haven't seen on this continent, let alone in the rest of the world.

I said goodbyes this week to the other assistants I've met here which also is a little weird because it seems like only yesterday we were all meeting for the first time and we had absolutely no idea what was in store for us for the next seven months – school-wise, accommodation-wise, socially...

I couldn't have asked for better friends this year – the ones that let me crash on their sofas in Paris, the ones that came from all over the place to visit me when I was having my blue first three months and the ones that simply stuck by me, especially my dear Dora – the flatmate I never knew would become my best friend here. 

I also couldn't have asked for better colleagues – they did everything they could to welcome me to the school, ease me into the life of teaching and made me laugh a lot too, it has to be said. They are great and I hope I'll see them again one day:

I couldn't have asked for a better location, really. I know it's not in Paris, but the business of Paris (and expenses) can be so overwhelming that sometimes it's nice to retreat to the old “banlieue”. I am fairly certain that I couldn't have had a better year abroad – not in Martinique, Guadeloupe, Réunion, Guyane Francaise or the Cote d'Azur...those places will always have a magical quality about them I'm sure but this year it was important for me to experience reality too.

And most importantly, I couldn't have asked for a more wonderful family of Africans that welcomed me into their home – literally. Church this year has been in an apartment, no-one wants to have to cram into an apartment and hold a church service, but in their case they didn't even have a building and they hardly had any money to rent one.

Two weeks ago, on Easter Sunday, in the relatively small apartment, they proudly announced that they have found a room in a building in Viry-Chatillon (mid way to Paris – my place) which they will be able to have church in from now on. They don't really have money to rent it and there are about twenty five of them maximum who actually turn up, but in their own words: Hallelujah!

We have been in this together all year. Everyone has come again and again every week, the pastors, families, kids, etc. and instead of giving up and saying they'll never get their building for church, a place to actually play musical instruments and a place where lots and lots of people can come because there is space – instead of giving up on this ideal, this African family held their faith. They held onto their faith and in the end, they were blessed with the building they wanted.

The whole experience made me believe that God is at the centre of their faith and if they can't trust anything else, they hold onto God and they are blessed by it. This is what all faith should be about – not religion nor rules nor arguments about songs to play in church services nor disagreements about other things that Christians don't see eye to eye on. Faith is exactly what happens when there's a group of you fighting for the same thing – church building, maintaining your community against the odds and trusting in God, one hundred percent.

Well that's really it from me and from my year abroad. It seems like just yesterday that I was writing my first blog post – from McDonalds – and I was tearful with frustration. But at the same time, that was light years ago and so much changed in the space of six months. So I guess that if any of you reading are about to embark on an adventurous journey into the unknown or simply moving to a new city, don't worry yet. If you set your heart on really doing it, you can't let those worries get in your way.

And now I think that it's time to take a hiatus with this blog. This year was the perfect opportunity to start a blog and I think that it's been a great project for myself. But the next step with writing for me might have to involve something completely different.

So readers, until then!

goodbye

I guess now is the time when I should be wrapping everything up and patting myself on the back and saying “hey you did it, you survived!” another year in France gone past.

Saying goodbye is the odd part that doesn't ever seem to fit in, no matter how far on the scale of sweet-to-sadness the goodbye ends up on. It is when you're the one moving when goodbye doesn't fit in – everyone and everything else disappears into the background which you leave behind and then you have to keep moving and keeping your spirits up, for the next step ahead in your new horizon. Those backgrounds fade away from sight but no matter how hard you try they'll never fade away completely because you'll always close your eyes and hear the laughter of those old friends and smell the breeze and see the buildings, the skies and the horizons that you left behind, all of which keep on living without you there.

There have been many weeks leading up to this moment, the moment I know is coming to an end and strangely I waited for this moment a long time ago I thought that the end in sight would be a triumphant and victorious moment but in actual fact the ending to this era is in sight and the emotion is somewhere in the middle on the scale of sweet-to-sadness.

I can't describe the feeling that goodbye gives in so many words, except that it's difficult to define and I might have to describe it in the airport instead. This weekend I was in the airport again, and over the past few years I've ended up in the airport, waiting all by myself, and watching the airport life go past. It makes you think as you're looking out over this particular horizon, the runway where aeroplanes are always landing. It makes you wonder at the idea that this is a special place because this is where lives are changed, changed because here is where you are moved from one place to another, and with it moves so much more than just your belongings.

I've ended up looking out over the runway, late evening as the sun starts going down, looking at the different planes out there. Absurdly, I think to myself that if you gaze on out of focus, those planes look like cartoon birds, rolling lazily across the tarmac. This is their back garden, landing and ascending as frequently as birds do.

Time to leave, as ever.

But like I said, goodbye, the word doesn't sit well with me. I won't leave, I'll tell myself it's a temporary change. My whole life I've been telling myself just that, watching from the glass walls at that enormous stretch of golden tarmac on those days where the sun is brilliant and the lazy planes are stretching their wings. They're like old friends, those cartoon birds, old friends that are always coming back to me, pulling me away from the ground, sending my life spinning and always projecting me up into the clouds with them, without a moment to properly say goodbye.

Down here on land, where friendships form and reality takes shape, emptiness is filled by something at least. Up in the sky with the clouds and the quiet and the planes outstretched wings guiding you forward reality stops – just people sleeping until land appears again.

When the solid ground impacts the wheels, that's when the change happens and the reality takes its shape again. For days or months or years, in your heart you are restless, excited, touched, tearful, even, and the planes in the sky leave their trace; every time you look up there they are calling to you and beaming at you from those places you can't reach.

That's the nature of airports. The place where all kinds of thoughts can enter your mind and make you think about what it does to you, moving and changing and living all over the world.

So here I am in France, saying goodbye again and here I am wondering in spite of myself what comes next. It is a big open horizon, that's what change is; what comes after is the next mystery to solve and in between there's now, I suppose, to make the most of the last days.

The Love/Hate Relationship

 Greetings. As I'm sure many of you already know, there has been a beautifully sunny weather in France over the past two weeks. Spring has arrived early here, which in Paris means picnics, saxophones on the Metro and cold beers outside. It is starting to look pretty everywhere – the Champs de Mars has even been re-opened after a long, sad, wintry hiatus of inaccessibility.

This means that there will be picnics in front of the Eiffel Tower soon.

There are flowers in the woods next to my apartment, birds, squirrels, rabbits and ravens scampering around everywhere. Maybe it's not Martinique, Nice or Mallorca, but it's something beautiful all the same.

I took the opportunity this weekend and the previous weekend to push aside my dissertation, teaching and reading boring pronunciation studies and enjoy the sunshine because 'life is what happens when you're busy making plans' or something like that (I just wanted to enjoy the sunshine).

"Les jonquils de printemps"

Les jardins de Tuileries

Montmarte

I had two visitors over the past two weeks and we were extremely lucky on both weekends to get such great weather. Although Paris never gets old, I have now been to see the Mona Lisa at least five times, walked inside Notre Dame and the Sacré Coeur at least ten times and taken part in a couple dozen “Eiffel Tower” photos. But I am determined to be a good tour guide.

I have to say, even the Mona Lisa viewing feels better when it's sunny outside.

Now that March is upon us, it reminds me that my trip to France, the year as a teaching assistant somewhere in a rural wood outside of Paris, is drawing nearer and nearer to the end. Last weekend my friend Deborah and I were discussing the “year abroads” whilst sitting on the terrace of a café, in the sunniest sunshine. She suggested that I seem to have a “love/hate relationship” with France which I have to say made me laugh out loud (a real LOL ha).

It's kind of true, to be honest. Anyone who has been reading this blog this year will know that there's been a lot of “merde” over the past six months – whether it's France's fault or not is a different question though. However, I have concluded that even though there have been many frustrating moments which have happened to happen to me this year while I've been in France, I can't really say that it's a “hate” relationship. In France, I have:

1. made some of the best memories of my life
2. drank so much wine I can't remember only that it was good
3. Met some of my most fabulous and genuine friends
4. Tried many new things, from going skiing, eating escargots and swimming in the sea at night
5. Not just learnt a language but become a part of it

Over a period of 4 years, I have been back and forth to France, never quite finishing or saying goodbye. There have been some seriously cool moments here, especially with the friends I made from all over the world. These friends I made in my first year in France are the friends I knew that I'd never forget or lose touch with because we all had that drive to travel in the first place – the drive to move away from 'the comfort zone' and dive into something new without being able to see the outcome clearly.

“the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”

This is the moment, this year, when I was really alone for the first time and trying to figure out how I was going to meet friends and make more memories; this was when I realised who my “fabulous roman candles” are.

It hasn't exactly been a case of making new friends, but establishing the ones I've made over the past four years, in all of my different situations. Without asking, they came to visit me. Week after week. The ones who are mad to live, just like me I guess.

(Mad to live in France, you might think).

So when it comes down to it, maybe there is some sort of love/hate relationship. There has to be that in order for anything good to become unforgettable. But more importantly in the love/hate relationship is that I love it – the part where I love France and I am proud of myself for making so many true friends here and for discipling myself to learning French to the point where now it's a part of me. When a language starts becoming a part of who you are, you can't go back.

However, I think that this year is when the era in France ends: I can sense that there's something different for me after this. Unlike what everyone seems to think, that I'll be coming back here as soon as I can when I've graduated, I'm fairly certain that a new country and a new era of experiences are on the horizon.

“The best teacher is experience and not through someone's distorted point of view.”

Happy

There is one thing I want to write about this week

1. The Happy Show

For quite some time I haven't updated this because I had writer's block again for quite a few weeks (I've been busy too but that's no excuse not to write – nope, writer's block it is).

So, "The Happy Show", which is what I wanted to write about 2 weeks ago because I went to this exhibition in Paris called “The Happy Show” by Stefan Sagmeister an Austrian graphic designer. I approached apprehensively because to me, “The Happy Show” is a title which is bound to disappoint many who are really seeking “Happiness”, whatever that is.

But this was the first wall in the entrance of the exhibition:

It soon became apparent that the show is not a “formula for happiness” as I had apprehensively disregarded, neither is it a collection of paintings and sculptures that depict happiness: It is an info-graphic breakdown of one man's experiences and judgement of happiness based on statistics, experiments, psychologists' theories and personal evaluations. In short, it doesn't aim to dictate, but to subjectively demonstrate aspects of happiness.

As I progressed through each stage of the exhibit, I read the walls which contained quite a few statistics about “happiness” relating to humans relationships with other humans. These were statistics about marital happiness, statistics of happiness in “types of love” (Passionate vs. companionship), statistics of happiness among people with different relationship statuses etc:

To be honest, when I read all of the above, it didn't surprise me but what did strike me was that even though statistically “compassionate love” ends up making for a higher percentage of “happy people”, there are tons of people who never have this. And this was where I did not trust the statistics.

Is that to say that most people who never get a long term companion in love end up unhappy? Is it also to say that most people who pursue “passionate love” (ie sex but not necessarily commitment) all their lives also end up unhappy?

This was a big part of the exhibit and instead of making me nod and think “yup, those statistics are spot on” it challenged me to wonder “Is this how people measure happiness? With love?” I found myself unconvinced by this because more and more these days I find that people I meet define their happiness by their relationships: but not necessarily on other terms, and they don't always appear happier than the average Joe.

According to these statistics, happiness in relationships is much higher in passionate love than in companionship love but routinely over a shorter time frame (so high level dopamine quicker = short term happiness, lower level dopamine longer = long term happiness). But where does it analyse the happiness levels in people who are without either of these types of relationships?

(When I thought about some of the happiest moments of my life, very few some but not all, of those moments were relating to romance, actually).

And when I analysed the things I saw in the show: statistics about happiness in romantic relationships, self-image, self-confidence and other such typical things that humans have insecurities, I realised that all of us, every single one of us can't be 100% happy. A lot of the time we are telling ourselves that we're happier than we are or we're telling ourselves that we're unhappier than is true in reality. This was demonstrated in “the gumball machine meter”:

You take a piece of gum from the machine that you think corresponds to your 'level' of happiness (on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the happiest). I took a gumball from the '9' and it didn't work so I settled for 7 and it gave me one. I don't know why this is, but I think it was supposed to show that whoever takes one from either of the extreme ends is fooling themselves most of the time – it's unrealistic to be '9' most of the time but it's equally improbable that you're on a '3', no matter how bad you feel.

This gumball machine meter lead on to a pyramid which breaks down the necessities in order to be happy, showing that physiological needs are the base and self-actualization (creativity and such) is at the top, nowhere near as important as food, water and nuture. This links into the gumball machine in the sense that, in Western culture where most of us have food, water and nuture and the basic necessities we should hypothetically be much happier than a '3' or maybe even a '5' because a lot of our basic needs are already fulfilled (yet many who live in this culture often claim to be depressed or unhappy in some way).

“The Happiness Show” is one man's experience, he says himself, that the show is merely one man's analysis of happiness according to him using data he's collected over a period of 10 years.

But the show doesn't aim to make it's viewers “happier”, however that could be measured, it says from the very start. However, in my opinion it is an important topic which has been explored creatively through the arts for ages and I think that it's aim in this particular creative project was to express to the viewer that happiness is something that should be explored, and it did explore many aspects of the areas in which society measures happiness.

I truly value all the relationships in my life, especially with my friends. The people that I make friends with are people that add so much to my happiness and the true friends are the ones I can be apart from for a long time but are still the same when I talk with them again. But even in my relationships with friends, my happiness isn't dependant on that one other person.

This year abroad hasn't been an easy journey; from the very start it has seemed like there have been challenge after challenge to my happiness. Perhaps at the very start, I wasn't as prepared as I am now to be able to face the challenges to my happiness. But I guess challenges have enabled me to become much stronger in who I am and be proud of what I can do.

Before this year in France, I started this blog because for years and years I wanted to write and I wanted people to be able to read what I could write. I was a little bit scared about what people would think about what I wrote and so because of shyness, fear of what others would think, I held myself back. But I always knew that I expressed myself best in writing – to friends in cards or letters and to my teachers when I wrote them essays . Sometimes my teachers told me that they wanted to see me writing more; but it's possible that when I was a teenager, I felt too awkward to do that.

And since I've started this blog, I've been amazed by what a liberating hobby this has become. It's not only added greatly to my happiness to be able to express my writing publicly but it's given my friends quite a lot to laugh about.

I guess I want to say one more thing about happiness before this post is over: If you can't trust yourself, don't worry about it. But trust Pharell, who doesn't care about what anyone else thinks, just that he's happy: