From Pennsyltucky to Europe

The journey wasn’t easy. Three flights in total that spanned from Philly to Boston to Madrid and finally my ultimate destination: Sevilla. My parents drove me to Philly from our house at 4:30 am, me having only gotten approximately 4 hours of sleep, only to realize that my flight left several hours later than I thought.

After a spontaneous trip to a diner for breakfast and a quick visit to the Liberty Bell, I was dropped off at the airport again, this time for good. It felt weird to say goodbye to my family, like I was about to embark on a journey from which I would never return. I consistently reminded myself that that wasn’t the case and tried to get excited for my journey. I even managed not to cry, which is next to a miracle for me.

Not going to lie, the flights were hellish. I only had a few minutes in between each flight landing (planes always seem late) and the next taking off which left me running through the airport like a chicken with my head cut off. Shuttles to different terminals and awkward running with luggage to the next gate in a panic ruled the day. On the international flight from Boston to Madrid, I got my own seat on the biggest plane I have ever been on and it finally hit me as the stewards and stewardesses said “Hola” that it hit me: I get to go to Spain. After 8 years of learning, it’s really happening.

I highly recommend flying out of Boston. The view was absolutely beautiful.

I also highly recommend avoiding airline dinners if you want to avoid stomach pain on your 7 hour flight.

After a long, sleepless flight across the Atlantic and another connecting flight from Madrid to Seville, we were picked up by CIEE personnel and transported to our homestays. I was so excited to meet my host family, a woman named Maria and her daughter, and had already been picturing what it would be like. I couldn’t wait to see what my room would be like or where I would be located in Seville.

We were dropped off and met Maria, a friendly middle aged woman with blonde hair, thick black eyeliner, and reddish lipstick. My brain, which was running on four hours of sleep and approximately 10 hours of travel time, was slow to process the rapid Spanish I was hearing but I managed well enough. She asked us our age, what we study in school, whether we had boyfriends, etc.

One thing is for sure, meeting a host family is kind of awkward. People don’t tell you that. You’re there in a stranger’s house and you have to speak a language that doesn’t come naturally to you. You have to learn the  norms of their culture (for instance, don’t wear socks around the house or be barefoot) and figure out how to socialize with these new people that you’ll be spending time with for the next month.

As much as I was enjoying the chit-chat with my new host-mom, sleep deprivation started to get me along with the uncomfortable greasy feeling that happens with a lot of travel. With that, my first official business in Spain was a rapid shower and my first time having a legitimate siesta.

If you were wondering what a typical room looks like for a homestay, look no further! This is my room, which I affectionately refer to as my closet.