Today I was called “gutsy.” A man with three daughters wanted to know how my dad felt about me packing up and moving to Spain for eight months. My dad always tells me how much he supports it. In fact, both my parents support me wholeheartedly, despite the tearful goodbyes. This does take guts. This fifty pounds on my back and another two rolly suitcases waiting for me upon my arrival into Lisbon make me think I’m somewhat crazy. That’s just the first leg. I still need to take two buses to orientation in Caceres, Spain. (I had to take a flight to Lisbon because there is a general strike in Spain tomorrow and my flight into Madrid was canceled.) Oh, the joys of traveling.
I think what takes more guts is the time after. The time spent conversing with perfect strangers in the hope that I will improve my Spanish by expanding my vocabulary, working on my grammar and piecing it all together until I can hold a somewhat intelligent conversation. It takes waking up alone in a foreign country each day and calling it “home” despite the lack of family and friends just a phone call or drive away. It is trying something that doesn’t look edible or even recognizable. It all takes guts. Thank goodness that man thinks I have them. Sitting in the airport alone waiting for my flight to Lisbon, I’m beginning to believe it.
Acquiring those experiences requires guts, but it is not without scarifies: The goodbyes to those I’m leaving behind. I had a wonderful last few weeks at home, spending time in the mornings at the gym with my dad and the afternoons running errands when my mom got off work as well as catching some great autumnal air that has crept into the Midwest with my boyfriend in South Park. I’m sitting in the airport with time to spare and time makes me think about those last few weeks and the months leading up to this great adventure. Thank goodness I left the airport in order to spend some time in Philadelphia to get my last big gulp of Americana. Or else I would be too caught up in thinking.
I don’t enjoy goodbyes. I much prefer “see you laters.” My grandpa never said goodbye. He just said “see you Tuesday.” Well, friends and family: See you Tuesday.
My last American lunch: Philly cheesteak with a Yuengling beer from America’s oldest brewery.