This morning, much to my surprise, I found a white hair, on my own head. GASP I know. At the ripe age of 27 it seems I can now officially classify myself as 'getting old'. I didn't feel like doing that, so I pulled it out and went on with my day. However, I have heard that for each white hair you pull out, 3 more grow back in its place, so if that's the case, I'm in trouble.
Throughout the day, I kept thinking about myself as old, and if I was or not. In the States, being 27 kind of means you have a pretty decent job; you are either renting a place you plan to stay in awhile, looking to buy or have bought; have a steady guy; have your life pretty much together. I guess with all that I can see where I get the feeling that I am 'old'. I don't like it's old like 75 old or anything - I know that as late 20's people, we still party, travel more and enjoy time with our friends, but as we get older our hangovers happen to get worse, we can't sleep on the floor as often without have aches and pains and we start to enjoy dinner parties at home more than we used to. I guess in a sense, being 27 just means we are more mature.
On the flip side, in Spain, 27 is still quite young. Heck, a lot of 27-year olds still live with thier parents! Most people go to college close enough to thier home so they don't have to leave. In the case that they DO go 'away' its normally within driving distance and they make the trek home each weekend to be with thier family. An 18-year old American who has just moved out of his parents' house and finally has freedom would gauf at that fact. After the university years, they continue living at home, which shocks me! Granted, they must be able to save up a boat-load of money, but I can't imagine living at home right now.
At 27 here, it seems it is still assumed that you party every weekend, have a so-so job and not a lot of responsibility. There are obviously the exceptions too, don't get me wrong. So according to Basque standards, I'm young!
When I had my 25th birthday, I remember going through a 'quarter-century life crisis' in which I tried to see how I stacked up to the American ideal of a 25-year old - car, house, boyfriend, good job. At the time, I didn't have a car OR a house OR a boyfriend, just a job I liked but obviously wasn't going to be what I was doing when I was 55. I fell into crisis mode, but then after meeting with some local friends realized that for here I was right on track - having fun, travelling and living life. I like these standards much more! It's a much different mentality and one that I think us Americans should consider a bit more.
So, my 'first white hair' crisis has been averted, because be it 23, 25, 27 or 30, I'm happy where I am in life and I match up to my own standards - to enjoy my life! Regardless, I still hope those 3 hairs don't grow back...
Muxu!
Amanda
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