Just before my 18th birthday, I got a tattoo on the left side of my lower back (love handle) that says “Vivre le reve,” or to live the dream in French.
Because I wasn’t yet 18, I had to get my stepmom* (at the time) to excuse me from school and give me consent so we could go to Boulder Ink to get it done.
At the time, I had been studying French for six years. I wanted a permanent marker of my love for learning and using languages, as well as an constant reminder to make every day count. Make every day the dream. If it’s not, find a way to make it better. And if it doesn’t get any better, change what you’re doing.
I’m packing up all of my junk – a.k.a. clothes and personal effects – and hopping a plane to Spain
Almost 10 years later, I still have the tattoo (duh), but I’m embarking on a journey I’ve always wanted to take. I’m packing up all of my junk – a.k.a. clothes and personal effects – and hopping a plane to Spain: Madrid, specifically. Then, I’m going to train it all the way North to Logrono, in the La Rioja region.
It’s Logrono where I’ll be living and teaching English for at least the next eight months through the Spanish Ministry of Education’s North American and Cultural Assistant Program. Oh, and my boyfriend, Chris, is coming along to do the same thing!
*My stepmom wasn’t entirely happy about this, but I’m very stubborn and said I couldn’t go to school without the tattoo because I told people I was getting it over the weekend and didn’t want to look like a liar. Teenagers, I know. She was also in the middle of divorcing my dad and I think it was probably some ploy to get back at him.
AVERE UN SOGNO NEL CASSETTO
I didn’t know I wanted to teach English abroad until I was 21 or 22 and studying Italian at Virginia Tech. After learning French all through middle and high school, I decided to take Italian in college – even though I was an English Major and had clearly fulfilled my language requirement.
I loved it.
There was something in the cadence of Italian. The rolling Rs and the lilts at the ends of phrases made it impossible not to speak passionately and forcefully. It was in Italian class at VT that I learned about programs that would pay you to teach English abroad, even in desirable locations like Italy.
This was ideal, especially for a Boulder girl who had never traveled outside of the U.S. except for one trip to Scotland for my dad’s wedding to said stepmom. Studying abroad WAS appealing, but not in the cards. I opted to transfer schools instead, and the tuition hike from being an in-state Colorado student to an out-of-state Virginia student made it impossible to afford any extra programs. So I was landlocked and homebound … for the time being.
It was also in this Italian class that I learned the phrase “avere un sogno nel cassette.” Translated literally, it means to have a dream in the drawer (or pocket, as I’ll always say). Translated roughly, it means to have a secret dream.
Teaching abroad was my not-so-secret dream.
To better my chances at snagging one of those gigs and to sharpen my editing skills, I signed up as a Writing Coach in Virginia Tech’s Writing Center to work with ESL students. I also pursued an Italian minor. When it came time to produce sample resumes and cover letters in a Professional Writing class, I found a program that offered teaching positions in Siena, Italy – a town in the Tuscany region where there is this magical thing called Il Palio.
But I never sent it. Instead, I moved to Boston after I graduated, and I got a job writing for a content marketing firm called Brafton. There, I worked with teams of talented writers and journalists for three-and-a-half years. As a Marketing Writer and then Editor, I learned about digital marketing and the importance of having a social media strategy, how to write headlines to drive clicks AND engagement, and most importantly: How to measure the impact. But after a couple years of working in Boston at Brafton, I started to talk – not just think – about teaching abroad again.
And when I say I’m going to do something, you better believe I’m going to do it.
GO BIG OR GO HOME
I met my boyfriend Chris at Brafton, and lucky for me – he had the same idea. Well, almost the same idea. He wanted to teach in Spain.
Chris studied abroad in Barcelona during school and wanted to return. So, he took a TEFL/CELTA certification course after graduating to get proper training on how to teach English to foreign language speakers.
Even though I had my heart set on Italy, he promised that if we applied to the Cultural Assistants program in Spain to be Auxiliares de Conversacion, we would have plenty of opportunities to travel to Italy, France and where ever else my little uncultured ass desired. I was sold on the fact that it was a legitimate program through the government and didn’t require an application fee.
So, as a 27-year-old with a great position doing work that I genuinely enjoyed every day (and was finally making OK money doing it), we decided to throw caution to the wind.
What else did we have to lose besides our jobs, our apartment in downtown Boston and the comfort of a normal salary?
We finally submitted our applications in February and were accepted to the program in May, just after the deadline passed. Although this sounds exciting, all it really said is that we didn’t mess up the process and that we were qualified. We still had to wait for an assignment.
In the interim, there was a lot of nail biting and fear that what we were doing was crazy and irresponsible. Our lease was up in September, so we knew we had to be out. If Spain happened, the timing would be perfect. If we found out at the last minute that we didn’t get it, we’d be scrambling to find another place within a couple of months.
Alas – in late June, we finally received magical emails notifying us of our placement for Logrono (which isn’t all that bad considering another girl we know received her placement in July). It was a relief to know that we were finally making this dream come true, but it also meant that shit was getting real.
Between June and August we had to get serious about getting out of our apartment, selling all of our stuff besides what would fit in Chris’ 2001 Jeep Cherokee, planning a cross-country trip to see our families before departing, quitting our jobs, figuring out our finances and navigating the frightening Visa process … oh yeah, and LEARNING SPANISH.
We’re on our way. The fears of moving to a foreign country sometimes catch up to me, and I wonder if I’m going to love it as much as I think I might. But it’s assuring to know that nearly a decade later, I haven’t lost sight of what the dream looks like for me, and I haven’t stopped chasing it either.