Even Jane Austen would agree: it is a truth universally acknowledged that a student who is studying abroad is in want of more room to pack their stuff in. I am allotted one 50 pound checked luggage, one carry-on item, and one “personal item,” which will be a backpack filled with enough stuff to make it resemble a baby black bear.
Baby black bear... black backpack. Note the resemblance.
It is probably (definitely) for the best that I am only allowed this much stuff because I have to be able to carry it all once I arrive in the city. Plus, I can always buy more things there. Logical? Yes. Makes my life simpler? Hell no.
One week to go in my hometown and I’m not quite sure if it has hit me yet that I’m going to be dropped in a completely different country soon. Perhaps as close as I got to that epiphany occurred when I was in the car, listening to some country station my older sister had put on, and thinking that country music doesn’t exist in Spain. Pathetic? Yes. Was I probably a little hormonal? Yes. Do I like feeling like a pathetic human being? Hell no. But I suppose it is all part of the emotional rollercoaster.
Now, I am running around like a headless chicken (I will spare posting a picture to illustrate this phenomenon), scheduling last minute visits with friends, family, and the lovely people at my physical therapy office. I have two more meetings and these awesome people have been teaching me exercises to strengthen my ankle so I don’t really become a cripple in the next year while I wait for my surgery. They have yet to give me a ‘do and don’t’ list (I usually do not respond well to these), but they are teaching me how to properly bandage my ankle and are whipping me into shape after a two-month stalemate. Like I said, lovely human beings.
Speaking of lovely human beings, my older sister (who is pursuing her PhD in Chemistry at Texas A&M) and my grandmother (who hails from Illinois) both flew into town last Friday to spend a week home before I head off to my great adventure. It is a blast to be united with my two sisters and share stories with my grandmother. On Sunday, my family had a backyard barbecue with my extended family to welcome home Adriana and say goodbye to me. It was absolutely wonderful and I know I am incredibly blessed to have such a loving and close-knit family. I am going to miss them very much.
My cousin-in-law loaned me a1926 copy of Zalacaín el aventurero by Pío Baroja that belonged to his grandfather. I was completely touched by the gesture and will treasure it—after all, it is no secret that I have a thing for old books. Also, he informed me (in Spanish) that if he saw me in the tabloids, he would tell my parents and it’s over. Accordingly, I inquired if I was allowed to appear in the tabloids because I was dating a football (soccer) star. He stipulated that this was acceptable, as long as said footballer did not have a wife.
Well, there you go, folks. Obviously, I have high expectations in life. But, isn’t the FC Barcelona football team amazing? Don’t even try to deny it. They may look like men, but they are actually gods. I know. I know…
The next post will probably be once I arrive, unless something really exciting/traumatic happens before then.
I guess you'll be giving the little black bear a piggy-back ride :)
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