Where is the siesta?

My roommate can attest to the fact that I'm having trouble surviving without a siesta. After lunch, you'll find me lying on my bed, relaxing, without a care in the world--until about twenty minutes later when the thought of looming homework and impending failure in class if said homework is not completed jolts me conscious enough to at least roll over and glance at the cover of a book. Then, the guilty feelings take over, impel me to sit up, change out of the comfy sweats I most likely donned in order to rest, and to finally get down to business.

This semester I μελέτη ελληνικά und Deutsch y español. And it's getting mildly confusing! Greek hasn't yet become familiar enough to invade the modern languages I speak, but I ramble on in Germpanish all the time. My made-up name for that language is about as ugly as what it sounds like when I unconsciously combine the two in one sentence.

And since my dear, kindly German professor absolutely refuses to sign my drop card (I expressed serious concern about my future in the class and he preemptively said he wouldn't sign it), I suppose I shall be stuck struggling along for the next few months. My professor, the epitome of a European gentleman, has this stubborn belief in my intelligence and German capabilities. Maybe one day his optimism and faith will manifest themselves in my fluency...I can only hope. I did discover the secret to calm my heart so that it doesn't palpitate in such a dangerously rapid manner each time I enter the classroom: I told him that I had a) forgotten all of my German and b) was nervous! It's funny how simply telling someone you're uncomfortable practically alleviates all discomfort. Anyway, I now boldly speak like a German toddler.

I generally understand what he's saying, but six months in Spain will really clear your mind of any remaining German vocabulary you once had, so speaking requires slightly more effort.

I've been back at Hillsdale for almost exactly one week, and the happiness of this sweet reunion has yet to fade! Despite the fact that as a senior at a mere week into classes I am somewhat behind in the work--but really, who isn't--I am glad to be here! I am surrounded by precious friendships, new acquaintances to befriend and exciting challenges. I love living in the Pi Beta Phi house, I love the boisterous tea times at our neighbor's, I love running into friendly faces all over campus and having a moment to exchange a genuine greeting! We are blessed to be here.

And in those moments that the hateful German book becomes my indecipherable enemy, or the miserably failed Greek quiz taunts me, or friends are no where to be found, I'm blessed to be here.

Learning Greek is a humbling experience. It's also an exciting and frightening one--it's one small step toward the future. Will I use this knowledge to assist in Bible translation? Perhaps. At the very least, I've mastered an entirely new set of characters that compose an alphabet and they're fun to draw. I can write them phonetically and anyone who knows Greek pronunciation will understand. It will be like a secret way of communication--cool. In other news, Lauren told me today that I'm a "language junkie."

My life in Spain seems like a dream to me. It's really an unusual feeling and almost unpleasant. Those 180 days were a part of my life, but they're fading into the distance. The life lessons haven't though--and for that I'm thankful.