ciao Madrid

Well, folks, I made it! And making it was definitely a solid first adventure. Wednesday was Travel Day, and as everyone knows, sitting in the airport and freaking out about-the-possibility-that-you-will-land-in Madrid-and-not-know-a word-of-Spanish-and-Ohmigod-you’ll-just-have-to-hop-back-on-the -plane-and-fly-home-and-how-do-you-explain-that-to-your-family is exhausting.

Step 1: Finish packing the morning of departure. Realize that your suitcase is HUGE and that there is now way you’ll make it to the fifth floor apartment of the building in which you will live. Decide you don’t care.

Step 2: Go to Pittsburgh airport with Mom. Check baggage. Hope it ends up at the correct destination. Eat quiche. Chai! Put Dr Scholl’s in adorable new boots, because, hello, you aren’t THAT stupid. Realize that you should go through Security now, but that you haven’t finished your chai and you don’t want to waste it. Leave Mom double-fisting caffeinated beverages.

Step 3: Fly to Newark. Boring…

Step 4: 6 hour layover in New Jersey. People-watching! Woman in leopard print leggings wins, but Honorable Mention goes to adorable small child. Also, bird-watching! Thought you were hallucinating when the pigeon flew down the corridor? You weren’t. And you know this because it flew by approximately 6 more times and walked underneath the seat next to you twice. Pigeons are creepy.

Step 5: Realize that all the cool kids are on your flight, and your seated across the isle from one of your besties. Fiesta flight, y’all!

Step 6: Realize that even the fiesta flight gets dull. Remember that you can’t sleep on planes and that this makes you cranky. But you’re going on Adventure, so not too cranky.

Step 7: Arrive in Madrid! Glide through customs, share a cab with amigas, and manage not to bungle your address to the cabbie. Success!

Step 8: Meet Señora Imelda, your super-lively and patient host mother, and Blas, the Chihuahua. Do all of this in a stupor, because it’s like four in the morning in your time zone and, after last finals week, you are so over all-nighters. Fail to communicate, in part because you are so tired and in part because you haven’t practiced Spanish in earnest since before Christmas. For example, Imelda, in an innocent attempt to get to know you, asks it you are Jewish. And you say, “No, no I don’t live in a ghetto.” And that is after checking the dictionary.

Step 9: Unpack and take a four-hour siesta. Yes, you know you aren’t supposed to nap because you want to avoid serious jetlag, but Imelda thinks it’s a good idea and she is your host mom…

Step 10: Update Facebook with Spantaliano, being a tonta by using ciao in the Italian sense (like aloha) rather than the Spanish (like toodles). ¿Cómo se dice oops? See, Bekah, I’ll own up to it! But, as Imelda frequently, and forgivingly, tells me when I am having a struggle, no pasa nada.
Step 11: Commit the phrase no pasa nada to memory. You're going to need it. 

And I'm stopping there, one step short of a proper Program. And I know I'm a few days behind, but I'm working on it, I promise. Pictures next time, so be excited! ¡Hasta luego!