Close, but not close enough
“You can do anything you put your mind to, Jess.” That is what my mom always told me when I was growing up. She never mentioned how hard it would be to “do anything” with a disability. Having a disability makes you different and no one wants to be different. The catch is that everyone is different, we cannot change this and nor should we. We can do nothing but grasp our differences and cherish them; take the individuality that they give us and honor it. I did the opposite. I took my unique situation for granted in the US, expected accommodations, and never thought twice about the elevator that ran smoothly or the beauty of a ramp. When I pursued my dream of studying abroad, I knew it would be difficult, but never could have imagined how I would miss these simple luxuries. Though life in a wheelchair is never easy, living in Spain with a wheelchair highlights every one of your differences and sends your independence on the first plane back to the states.
I arrived in Sevilla, Spain with courage in the palm of my hand, stretching my arm far enough from my heart, so everyone could see my bravery. Inside I was beyond scared. However, I kept up this façade for two weeks after my plane landed. Two weeks of daily conflict and frustration because, “I could do it and I would do it alone.” The combination of physical struggles and mental confusion was fed up with my stubbornness and I eventually broke down. I changed my flight, and packed my suitcase. I was going home.
My tears stared when I realized that Spain’s attempt to provide access was “close, but not close enough.” First, I cried for the buses. I cried for having to wait for up to an hour for a bus with a ramp that was often too steep or too shallow. Numerous times I would sit at the bus stop for up to an hour until the first bus driver I saw came back around to tell me to go find another way to class. Close, but not close enough. When I had my fill of the bus problems, I cried for the ramps between the streets and the sidewalks. Driving though the city initially, I was thrilled to see an abundance of ramps inlayed into the curbs. A closer inspection revealed ramps that failed to align, leaving a three-inch gap to negotiate. If only these Spanish wheelchairs came in an “off road” model! The curb-cut problem took a turn for the worse when I discovered that drivers often parked in front of the existing ramps. Left with only one option, I frequently cruised the streets with the traffic, imagining all the wicked things I could have done to the car parked in my way! Curb problem…close, but not close enough. Of course there were the times when I would pass stores, admiring a pair of shoes or a chocolate pastry. Walk on in, right? Not with that hideous step in the doorway! So many times I wished for a jackhammer, it would be so simple to just remove the step myself.
However, I knew before I left Seattle that the physical challenges were inevitable. I was well informed about the distance Spain had to yet to cover regarding their accommodations. What I was not prepared for were the emotional challenges that snuck up on me. The initial emotional challenge was dealing with the guilt the resulted from asking for help. From the roommate and classmate I barely knew, to strangers on the street, every time I asked for assistance, I felt reluctant to burden them. When alone, I dealt with the emotions that accompanied my inability to do the most elementary tasks. Not fitting through narrow doorways and ridiculously small elevators was a frustrating reality. My insecurities turned to discomfort and I grew to resent the staring children and adults alike. At times it took everything in me not to shout, “Hola! I can see you staring at me!”
These negative feelings made me yearn for life in The States. The easier way of life, the friends and family, those who had already gained my trust, the familiarity, I missed it all. Rather that enjoying the experience of this foreign country, I found myself reminiscing of helpful familiar faces, reliable wheelchairs, and the days when I was not scared to leave the house. I was fulfilling my dream of living in Spain, but I was living a nightmare.
The day I went to the Council office to announce my early departure, I thought my nerves would be put to ease. I expected to leave there and be relieved to be finally going home, to be taking the easy way out. However, as soon as I started talking about what I had been through over the previous 2 weeks, it occurred to me that I would not only be leaving the negative aspects. I would also be leaving behind all the positive aspects that I was not acknowledging because of my preoccupation with the hassles. This was the first time I let the people around me in on the stress involved in my daily struggles. Their support astonished me. I realized that I was not alone in this, but my new friends also felt homesick and frustrated so far from everything familiar. It was this encouragement that made me realize that I was not taking one day at a time, but swallowing all the stress whole.
With a newly discovered insight, I went back to Council. However, this visit was to announce that I was staying. Knowing I was surrounded by a support system, I was able to let down my brave façade and let them help me change my flights...again! By admitting my need for assistance, I felt a calming in my emotional chaos. The Council staff gave me advice that it eased my mind, and their experiences helped me realize that we were in this as a team. Spain could no longer be compared to life in the US. But, recognizing and appreciating the differences between the countries only was just part of the adventure.
With the help of the team around me, I curbed the emotional turmoil I had created, like so many other homesick students. From there, the physical challenges could also be mastered. Like a friend told me, “Life is going to be difficult anywhere we go. Wouldn’t you rather spend 5 months of it here in España?” Thus, I looked at my physical challenges with a new determination. Patience became key while waiting for a bus; I would bring a book, and enjoy the sunshine. When the bus drivers claimed that the ramp would not function, I demanded a solution. I knew that to succeed, I would have to solve problems with assistance. In taking ownership of my situation, I explored new routes around the city, and tested ways to manipulate my chair in order to go where I wanted. My mind was a strict map of the most accessible paths from place to place. Most importantly, I learned how to ask for help. It was essential for me to admit that if I tried, others would be willing to try also.
In my 21 years, the best decision I have ever made was to stay in Sevilla for those five months. When planning my trip one year ago I focused on the physical limitations that I was to encounter. Then, I had no idea that I would actually better myself in the process. Now that I am back in the US, it is Sevilla that I dream of at night. When people ask me to tell them about Spain I do not know where to begin. The culture, the people, its ambiance combine in an experience that is beyond explanation. I always say, I could tell you what its like, but wouldn’t you rather see it for yourself? And can I come along? Being home, I appreciate the accommodations after having seen an extreme lack of concern for disabled people. Along with an appreciation for what is ours, I have gained so many other insights that could only be discovered by living in a foreign country.
I played a mind game and won control, but not alone. Without the people I met in Spain and the dedication of Council, I would not have accomplished my dream of studying abroad. I would have missed the history in Granada, the magic of Segovia, or the silly sound of my voice when cruising over cobblestone streets. I learned that there are wonderful people willing to carry me across the beaches of Cadiz to work on my tan as long as I learned to trust them. I have. Memories like these put a smile on my face, reminding me that my mom was right. I know now that my disability cannot hold me back from doing whatever I put my mind to; it came close to stopping me, but not close enough.
Jessica Ramquist, CIEE Seville participant 2002