Changing the Hand I was Dealt
I never imagined that I would wind up studying abroad in Spain in the summer of 2017. You see, I am a wife and mother of three. My sons are 17 and 15, and my daughter is just four years old. Studying abroad was not an opportunity available to me at this point in my life. Or, so I thought.
I decided to go back to college just a couple of years ago with the goal of completing my bachelor’s degree in Photo Communications. I wanted to make the most of my college experience this time around and studying abroad was on the top of my list.
Getting my acceptance letter to the Valencia, Spain program was definitely a highlight in my life.
Fast forward to May 25, 2017, I boarded an Iberian plane set for Madrid, Spain, all alone and extremely anxious. My heart pounded so loudly that I thought the people around me could hear it. This would be the first time I would be alone in 17 years; no children or husband in tow. The knot in my stomach grew as I was about to embark on a journey across the world.
“I can, I can, I know I can,” I repeated to myself.
These words never played in my mind so clear as they did right at that moment. At least I would be able to sleep on the plane. After all, it would be an 11 and a half hour flight.
A baby about two seats over from mine did not seem to be as happy as I was to fly to Europe. He cried and cried as the plane inched along. After hours of trying to block out the sounds, I reached into my backpack for my head phones for some sort of salvation.
I watched movies and distracted myself from the frequent bouts of turbulence and the loud cries. I started to doze off and I slept maybe about 2 to 3 hours at most. The head phones helped muffle the sounds but not much.
Before I knew it, the plane landed on the tarmac and I was in Madrid. I still had two train rides to go. The roar of voices echoed as the masses of people in the airport walked in every direction imaginable. My head spun around in circles, scanning every wall and surface, looking for the sign that would tell me which path to take.
The airport corridors curved and looped as I made my way to the baggage claim in what felt like a labyrinth with no end. I had no idea how to get to the train station that would take me from Madrid to Valencia. The anxiety set in and goosebumps rolled down my neck. I couldn’t swallow.
“I should have booked a flight directly to Valencia. What was I thinking?” I said to myself.
The humidity wrapped around my body as I walked out of the airport terminal and onto the walkway. My jeans hugged my skin tight and my back was drenched with sweat.
“I am not dressed for this weather. I should take off this sweater,” I whispered under my breath.
I only had 45 minutes until my train departure.
I had booked a train ticket in advance and told myself, “I could figure it out when I got there.” Well, there I stood, and I couldn’t figure it out. Then it happened. I let the panic overwhelm me, but only for a moment. Shaking my head, I took a deep breath and got to work. “I can do this.”
I began asking questions and reached out to anybody who happened to look in my direction. Every single person greeted me with warm smiles and calm voices. Someone even walked me directly to my train. I was on my way. I couldn’t believe it.
My feet crossed the train threshold and relief washed over me. An older gentlemen helped me rack up my large bag. I sat down just as the doors closed and the last call played loudly over the speakers. I could feel the sweat dripping off my brow. “Just a little bit further.” I got comfortable for the two hour train ride that would take me to my final destination; Valencia.
I was exhausted, I needed a hot shower, clean clothes and a good night’s sleep. I could already feel the cold sheets from my new bed on my skin,
“Would I be able to sleep?” I thought. The excitement surged through me as the the train pushed forward.
In all of the excitement and preparation for my trip I had forgot to change my cellular plan so I had no internet or data. With my phone still on airplane mode, the questions of how to get wifi were circling my mind. Was there wifi? Should I ask? What should I do? The more I thought about it, the more tired I became. It was too much work. I felt a little out of touch with the outside world. I sighed loudly, then I shut off my phone and closed my eyes.
“Valencia,” the train official announced as the forward movement slowed then halted. I arrived.
I quickly gathered my luggage and rolled out of the train doors. The groups of passengers rushed their way through the archways and out of the station onto the streets. I saw a line of signs with names and pick ups in the group of people just outside the arrival gates. I paused for a moment to catch my breath.
The station’s sliding glass doors swished open and shut as passengers approached. The hot air from outside wafted in and out with the current of the sea of people.
Then I spotted a driver waiting along the edge with a sign that read, “IEI Media” so I rolled over in his direction.
He was there to pick me up and take me to my host family. This would be the place that would be my home for the next four weeks. The driver spoke and the sounds were in such a rapid succession, I couldn’t make it out as easily as I anticipated.
Even though I speak Spanish, these words almost seemed unrecognizable. The ride was quick and painless and straight to my final destination.
I buzzed the bell at the front of the building. This heat once again punched me in the face as I waited for some relief. I needed to have some airflow and it was not happening.
My bags clicked and clacked all the way up the three flights of stairs. A sign in the corridor read, “Segundo.” A lovely older woman answered the dark, wooden door. I introduced myself and she reached out her hands and softly said, “Encantada,” and I knew that I was home.
