So Foreign

I am about to embark on the journey of a life time. It feels strange though to be going away for six months and not really feel it at all. I got to the airport and said one of my very well known "crappy goodbyes." I have heard from many that my farewells are known for leaving people wanting more. The hanging around and moaning and groaning are just so difficult for me though. Anyway, kisses to my mom, dad, and grandfather who came with to shoo me off on to another time abroad. As I walked away I trusted completely that all of the disorganization this trip was would come together. I know I tend to need a plan and sometimes life just does not work that way.

When I got to Chicago though I started to get skeptical that the disorganization would just sort itself out. I was told my carry on was too large and that they would have to check it to Madrid for me. I made the mistake of not getting a change of clothes out of there to take in my backpack because of course when I got to Madrid I found out the bad news. Not only had my carry on been lost, but my other bag had been lost as well. Great. Me, my backpack full of random semi-useless items, and a few "emergency phone numbers." Here's the thing about emergency phone numbers, they are useless when you are hours away from any of the emergency help that they offer. They are especially useless when one technologically disabled girl cannot figure out how to use the Spanish payphones.

I filed the luggage claim and moseyed around, rather desperately actually, trying to figure out how to buy a ticket for the bus that would leave the airport at 1030 for Granada. Finally, I figured it out. After sitting in front of the closed ticket booth for quite a while, the couple next to me informed me they had just found out it was closed for the holiday. There goes my best bet of getting to Granada. On to option number two...finding the bus station.

I asked a lot of people how to do this. Got sent in a million directions, but eventually found out I would have to take the metro. On my way there I realized I was on the verge of collapsing from hunger so I stopped at this airport cafe where they had fresh made sandwiches to buy and various hot foods. I chose a sandwich because finding food is one of the more intimidating things for me in other countries. I decided to begin my time in Spain with a Prosciutto ham and cheese sandwich. Let it be known that it is a very delicous, however tough, kind of ham well known in Spain.

As I sat down to eat, I could not wait to take my first bites of the long awaited food. Then I noticed the Spanish man watching me. Staring. No shame. I became nervous, and then worse, I realized I was making crumb fireworks all over my table every time I bit in to the ever so crusty bread. Not to mention me and this Prosciutto ham were in a downright brawl. Seriously, this ham was taking me down. I swear I broke a sweat, and I don't know if it was because I was working so hard to tear through this meat or because of the embarrassment of being examined in all of my foreign inability to consume a sandwich. I gave up after half of this foot long meal and removed the ham. Cheese and bread would have to suffice I decided.

More wandering of course, but I finally did come across the Metro. The directions I had received from some airport worker were clear and easy which is always a good thing for me. If you know me at all you know about my directional disability. I am forever getting lost. The Metro took me to the bus station where I bought a ticket to Granada, no problem. A few hours later I was on my way.

The trip went smoothly I would say. I was seated next to a formal little lady who greeted me cordially as I sat down next to her. Behind me I could hear a group of Asian students conversing excitedly. I was exhausted though so I covered my face with my scarf and then passed out. A few dreams later I awoke with a start. Not because anyone had touched me or called out. I had snored SO LOUD that I woke me self up. Worse then was I was imagining everyone staring at my scarf covered head wondering what the hell that noise had just been. So then I tried to sigh as if that would mask the crazy loud "ronca" that had just ripped through that area of the bus. I am sure the glow of my red cheeks probably shined through my scarf.

Break time came around and I met a musician. We got to talking and he was from right outside the city of Granada. He had moved there so as not to disturb neighbors with his loud practicing. Very cool guy, and he plays a some bar around here. Not to mention, he told me about a few places to watch live jazz. I have to say, so far every person I have met in Spain has done an incredible job of helping me out. I had heard about how the Spanish people can be kind of cold, but that has been the opposite of my experience so far.

I made it to Granada great, and the taxi driver who works with our support system came to get me at the bus station (SOL is our exchange support group here. Yes. That really is its name. Although it does mean "sun" in Spanish, those of you who speak English fluently might find that name to be rather amusing.) When I got in he asked me where to go, and I had to tell him I had no idea because all of the housing stuff was a complete disaster. A hostel I supposed, but we call my program director who found me a house to stay at for cheap and that would feed me.

The next day we had orientation, which is where I would find out I actually would be finding my own apartment. Renting as if I were a student from Spain. No luggage, no house. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed. We were told to meet at the Palacio de Congreso at 11. The other students were escorted by their host parents, and I followed the directions of the woman I was staying with, but still managed to show up late. I looked around. And I looked some more. And the I asked if the security guard had seen any students gathering and when he said no I looked some more. Then I went back to him to ask about calling my director. When I got no answer I went outside. I cried. I remembered I had the number of the woman I was staying with. We called her and she called the director. Finally, I found out he would come find me at the government building where I was currently having a minor breakdown.

An hour after the original meeting time he showed up and we walked to his office where everyone else was waiting and as we walked in all the other students let out minor cheers because we were all there. Then I lost it. Uncontrolled sobs. Forty-eight hours and many-a-stress later, finally some familiar faces. I managed to get myself under control though as we learned that it is completely rude in Spanish culture to walk around the house without house shoes on, and that shoes never ever go on beds or chairs. It was raining, but the director, Vitty and I all went to pick up my list of apts. I could choose from. Lunch was in order and Vitty and I ate a delicious Falafel sandwich stuffed with the worlds most heavenly ingredients and then went to buy cell phones.

That night we tried to get the whole group together, but when that didn't work, four of us girls went and got some food and a bottle of local wine before heading out for a night of fun. We ended up in a bar that played some good music, we danced a lot, and even got enticed to stay a while longer by the bartender. A free round of drinks to the foreign girls so they stick around and bring in business? I think yes...