The Arrival

June 27, 2012

When I wake up, we are still about 3 hours away from London (I have only managed to sleep a mere 4 hours).  It is impossible for me to go back to sleep, so I decide to try watching a movie.  I turn on The Lorax and quickly become bored and turn it off.  I decide instead to just listen to music and think.  Thinking is a dangerous thing when you are leaving everything you’ve ever known to move to an unknown place full of unknown people and unknown experiences.  I begin to ask myself “what on earth are you doing? Are you SURE that you know what you’re getting yourself into?”  This is no time to be second guessing my decision.  Armed with a one-way ticket, there is no turning back now.  I push the thoughts away and decide instead to focus on the positive experiences to come. 

Before I know it, we’re landing in London and I exit the plane with my broken suitcase in tow.  Once in London, there are more people than I’ve ever seen in my life:  it’s an absolute nightmare.  I have to go through security once again and the British security guard jokes me about the size of my purse (“’Ere in England, a purse is a tiny lit’l bag just big enough to hold yo’ wallet; NOT tha’ giant thing you have the’e”).  I amusedly tell him that I’m American and that therefore, everything must be bigger.  I am lucky that he laughs at my attempted joke and I pass through security with no problems (despite the fact that I have two bags of liquids and technically I am only allowed one).

Once at my gate, I realize just how alone I am.  I am surrounded by people speaking Spanish and Catalan.  I hear a group of people speaking English, but I quickly realize from their accents that they are English and the comforting feeling I once had quickly fades away.  I am truly alone now.   I board the plane and in less than 2 hours, we are nearing Barcelona.  I look out my window and tears being to form in my eyes.  I am home (my home for the next year, at least).  As we land, I let out a sigh of relief and I know that I have made the right decision.

I make my way to baggage claim and wait for my bags.  I feel a bit silly as I collect my three suitcases and load them onto a trolley (thank goodness for trolleys).  As I make my way through the arrivals gate, Javi and his family are waiting for me.  They joke me about the amount of luggage that I have.  I remind them that I am here for over a year, I am American, and I’m a woman.  They laugh and help me to the car.  After a few moments of careful planning, we finally get all of my luggage loaded into the car and head towards the “autopista” (freeway).  Oh my gosh – I have forgotten how crazily the Spaniards drive and I am thankful that I have taken a Dramamine before getting in the car.

About an hour later, we arrive to the Martinez’s apartment and it takes the 4 of us about 15 minutes and 4 elevator trips to get everything up to their 7^th floor apartment.  I drop off my stuff and am happy to change into my PJ’s and relax a bit after almost 24 hours of travel.  We eat dinner and a familiar voice scolds me for not eating enough.  Teresa (Mrs. Martinez) always insists that I don’t eat enough and I still haven’t been able to figure out how Spaniards are so thin considering the amount of food that they eat.  I eat as much as I can and quickly head to bed completely exhausted.

Despite my exhaustion, I don’t sleep very well.  I have never been so hot in all my life.  The Martinez’s have air-conditioning in all rooms of the house, but refuse to turn it on because it’s so expensive to run.  Oh well, at least I have my “banico” (small hand fan) like every good Spanish woman =)