On Friday, January 7^th, the fact that I was actually leaving the country finally seemed real to me. It must’ve been getting on the plane, and hearing that there was some turbulence over the Portuguese waters– that was definitely the moment when I realized there was no turning back. Not when I recounted to family and friends where I was going, what I was studying, when I would be back. Not when I some how packed four months of clothes and other means for survival in to, count it, ONE suitcase, a carry-on duffel, and a backpack. Not when I arrived at the airport, had to remove seven pounds from my checked bag (A success! About four pairs of shoes, bras, and sweaters went into my duffel instead), nor when I heard my Irish flight attendant on Aer Lingus prepare us for take off in her charming accent. I did not sleep a wink on the flight; a really great strategy for preventing jet lag mind you. Rather, I ate all the food they served, watched two episodes of Sex and the City (the ones where Carrie’s columns are being optioned for a movie in L.A.– remember when Vince Vaughn was cast as a hot “actor’s rep”? I know what you’re thinking; are we expected to believe that Carrie would sleep with Vince’s faux agent/real house-sitter rather than the real-live Matthew McConaughey?) and Charlie St. Cloud. My god, can the Zefron’s eyes be any bluer?

So when we finally arrived in the Barajas airport in Madrid, having lost six hours and emerging into place where the sun hadn’t even risen yet at 7:20 a.m., it was more than expected to feel a bit foggy. It was also about to rain. Might have been a mistake to leave the rain boots at home, sorry Mom. After we checked in at the hotel we walked into town to see the school and the bars and restaurants around it. It was quite the chaotic scene buying moviles, and after trying to explain to the cashier how mine wouldn’t make a call, all I got was a searching, pitying stare paired with “No lo entiendo.” Damn. Good thing I’m learning me some Spanish here. I choose to blame it on the massive drainage of energy I was enduring at the time. After some very unsettling naps we went to a place for tapas y bebidas, which my professor found highly recommended on Facebook, go figure. When we finally decided that there was a good chance we wouldn’t get lost, a group of seven of us went out looking for a bar or club to go to. We found some soccer players from Michigan who wanted to meet up later, but sadly we were stood up. Or, we went to the wrong place. Either way, we got new plates of food with each round of drinks we ordered, the guys proceeded to flirt with our waitress, and we finally went to sleep, after two whole days of semi-consciousness, a bit on the early side for being in Europe. We’ve got time. 

The next morning (wow, this morning–my concept of time is so skewed) the kids in home-stays were picked up by their hosts and the rest of us took taxis to the residencias. Our two taxi drivers looked aghast at our luggage. “Maletas? Son male-TONEs!” What? We’re Americans abroad, we don’t pack light. I live with two of the students in the Maryland program, one of them is my roommate, and we met one of our Spanish roommates, Noelia, who said that three more were on their way. I understood about 85% of what she said, and she told me that my Spanish was good– I like her already! The CRUSA kids went exploring and found a centro where we could eat and hang but for now we just have to try and actually master this new sleep schedule. And brush up on our grammar- huge placement test tomorrow. ¡Ay, caramba!