Leaving Spain

I was bored.

I was bored of my good student life, of being too much of a good girl. I was bored of doing always the same thing, so I came here. 

I just wanted to do something different. Anything different. And then my friend told me about coming to the US for a school year. Of course there were more reasons for doing it -the experience, the independence, getting to know another country and learning English- but they are not that interesting. 

At first my parents didn't really like the idea. I asked them while we were having dinner at a restaurant, in one of those awkward moments after some kind of fight. It was kind of funny, in a way.

Anyway, they finally agreed. So I started preparing everything (a year ahead, of course). I even made a list of things I had to do. Getting a letter of recommendation from a teacher, talking to all of them, buy clothes and make up (^^), writing good bye letters (okay, I did that later), planning what I would put in my 23 kg suitcase, and, most important, learning to cook Spanish omelet and paella. 

It was a good list, but my mom said it didn't make a lot of sense. Maybe. Anyway I started doing those things and some others.

I loved going to downtown Madrid to buy typical Spanish presents for my host family. I went there with my friends, wearing sunglasses and flip flops and going around taking pictures of everything and speaking Spanish with American accent. You should try it. It's really fun.

But not everything was that fun. 

Here's something I didn't like about those days.

I gained about six pounds in two weeks. You wouldn't plan that, right? I mean, the foreign fifteen is supposed to start once you get to America.

But it happened. 

Good-bye parties.

Be careful, they are bad, they really are. They'll get you fat. And good-bye dinners, they're even worse.

The day before I left I hanged out with my friends, we hugged and promised to write, I cried. Well, it's not too hard to imagine. 

And my last day finally came. Basically, I was very sleepy. 

My family came to the airport with me, it was nice. We were just talking for a while and then I finally had to leave so I started saying good-bye.

First to my little brother, Miguel. He's so cute. He was hugging me and kind of crying and saying that he would miss me (and my donuts, probably) so much. At first I was all sad, too. But after a while we hadn't stopped hugging and the rest of my family was kind of waiting for him and the whole situation was kind of funny so I started laughing a little bit. He didn't get mad at me, though. He really is a nice kid.

Then I said bye to my sister. I agreed to her borrowing my clothes while I was gone and we hugged and all that.

My other brother and I were awkward so we just shook hands making serious faces.

It was my mom's turn. She was almost crying. That's always depressing, seeing your parents like that.

My father was the last one and all I can remember is that we made funny faces. 

And then I left.

Eighteen hours later, I took my last flight. 

I was an unattended minor, so one of those flight attendants took care of me. I think (I hope) she was used to deal with small kids, because she kept calling me sweetheart and honey and offering me pillows and blankets and food and magazines all the time. 

I was reading a letter (and crying too) when I first notice the couple that was sitting next to me. They were eating. 

First, they had wings. Like a lot of them.

Then they had a boiled egg each.

After that, they split an avocado.

And then there were three huge zip bags with baby carrots, green beans and spinach. 

At that point, I think it was too obvious that I was staring at them because the lady offered me some carrots and the guy asked me to take whatever I wanted. They were really nice. 

But they were still eating. After having some bread, they ate more wings. And then they finally had the dessert, cookies and fruit and something that looked like cake. 

When they were done they fell asleep and I read and cried some more for the rest of the flight.