¡Yo estoy Aquí! Segundo Parte

So I had three hours to myself in Madrid. I gathered my courage, and walked... well I didn´t know where I was going, so I decided to head left. I walked through the Neighborhood, which I learned is called Chueca.

Chueca is one of the rainbow districts in Madrid, so it is appropriate that I ended up there! I explored all the side streets, taking note of such landmarks as "Leather Bar" and the various sex shops that I saw. Nicely enough, these became the ways I found my way back to the hostel. I also noticed how much Chueca looks like the French Quarter.

I kept going in that direction until I found myself at Gran Via. Oh. My. GOD. If the airport and Metro debacle, with a side of getting lost in Chueca, didn´t make this real: standing in the middle of Gran Via certainly did! 
 There it was: the street I have only read about in books, and seen in videos. I was standing in the freaking middle of it. And I ... needed ...to... MOVE! What the hell am doing just standing in the middle of the block, when people are trying to walk!? ACH! Bad American, Bad bad BAD! I later realized that I didn't even get a picture of the first time I saw Gran Via. Perhaps I was too busy staring at the landmark that would later become known to me as 'Fancy-pants McDonalds' (They fancy, y'all!).
 I swear, every time I see a fast food joint in Madrid, I'm like:

So anyway: I stopped being a jerk and crossed the street, gawking at Fancy-pants McDonalds and the big red tree. Suddenly there was a woman in front of me, with her hand out. She was talking to me, but she spoke so fast I couldn´t make out what she was saying. It was like: "A wild native speaker appears! She uses 'Confound them with Castellano'... It is super effective!
I tried to speak: "Please slow down, I don´t understand. ¡Ummm... No entiendo...Menos(???) Rapido, por favor!" She answered me with what sounded like: "¡hnnfjrñsthuesañhntgrjusñtgputahofñeahfñearfholu!"

I walked away, then stopped... Heeeeey. I know one of those words... Let´s see: "¡hnnfjrñsthuesañhntgrjusñtputaghofñeahfñearfholu!" WAITAMINUTE! I stood there for a second and said: "Wait, did that bitch just call me a bitch?" A man walking by must have understood me, because he laughed and patted me on the back saying: "Sí, Sí." As in: "Why yes, My American friend. That bitch did, in fact, just call you a bitch." 3.5 hours in Madrid. NICE.

I wandered around past Gran Via and ended up in Puerta del Sol, which is now apparently called 'Vodaphone Sol'. Hmmmm... that wasn't in my tourist guide. Eh, whatever, they had a gold tree. Look at it, it's pretty. Oooooooh. See? I quickly learned that to everyone it's just Sol, which works fine for me. I took pictures, because I have no problem being That Guy.

I wandered into the Orange store to get my Spanish SIM card, and luckily they had someone who spoke English. I have no problem testing out my Castellano, but I was tired as hell and just wanted to get my phone turned on. The woman there said she spoke English, but kept getting stumped on some things:
"When do you leave Spain?"
"I leave in July."
"Eh?"
"July. I leave in July"
"I'm sorry?"
"Julio."
"I'm sorry, I don't understand you."
"It's the month after June..?"
"Umm... "
I resisted the urge to shake her and scream "JULY, BITCH! JULYYYYY!!", because:  I am a LADY.
It didn't click until I physically wrote: 07/2014. My head... it hurts me so.

After I got my SIM card sorted out, took an Ibuprofen, put my phone away, and just walked. Now, in my mind I went the same direction that I came from. In my mind, that is. In reality, I got horribly lost, and had to turn to my trusty Map of Madrid to find my way back. Because this is me we're talking about, I STILL managed to get lost even with a damn map! "Just walk!" I said, "You'll totally remember the way back!" I said. Man, I have got to stop listening to myself. I look at it this way: If you constantly tell yourself that you are on a Grand Adventure, You will never be lost.

...My life is a constant Grand Adventure.

After another hour on Calle de Idontevenfuckingknowanymore, I managed to take a left and see: 'Leather Bar'! Halle-freaking-lujah! That hostel's around here somewhere, folks! I found my street (Oh, here's a tip: There are no signs on poles here. The street signs are mounted on the walls. If you want to figure out where the hell you are, go to the corner and look up.), and checked into my hostel. I took my sheets and bags into the room, locked up my laptop and small things, and passed right out. I didn't even make the bed. I just laid down the sheet, grabbed a comforter, and that was a wrap.

Next entry: The first night in Madrid begins, my friends!

¡ Yo estoy Aquí! Primera Parte

Well guess what, Ladies and Gentlemen! After MUCH ado, I have finally arrived in Madrid. My day was filled with firsts, especially since I've never been here before in my whole life.  I flew from Philly to Madrid, my first international flight. For the first time I saw the view like you see in the movies. There were lights everywhere, as far as I could see. 
There is no feeling like the awe that hits you, when you realize that you have really left your country. Like, you can see the actual border as you start to cross the ocean.

The flight was much shorter than I expected. I spent my time watching Sex and the City, Newsroom, Black Swan, and finally Moulin Rouge (I didn't get to finish it. Boo.) I was never really able to fall asleep. I nodded a few times, but the people constantly ringing for the flight attendants kept waking me up. After a while, I saw lights again, and realized that we had crossed the ocean safely.

Yeah, you can't see crap but I'm adding it anyway. That's how I roll.

Finally after what felt like for-EVER, we began to see signs of Madrid. I took a lot of pictures from the plane, but I'll only torture you with one:

 

Madrid letting its Soul Glo

 The view was incredible! I could see all these beautiful buildings, and I really wanted to take pictures of everything I could see in front of me. I also learned to use the 'video' function on my phone. Hahaha, just kidding I use that all the time!

                                        

            Then it was time to land! ALL-RIIIIIIGHTTTT!!

             (Yes, I recorded my damn landing, because I am a dorky dork who dorks. Jealous!?)


Dear Sweet Minty Jesus, can we please discuss why it takes eleventy million years to walk from the plane to the damn terminals (I'm looking at you too, Philly!)!? I had to dress like a decent human being for my international flight (flight attendant mom), so I wore my cute little snakeskin heels. Let me tell you, after two flights and endless walking, they weren't so fucking cute!! I was limping by the time I got to customs. :-(

I get to customs, get my passport stamped (for the first time, NBD!!!), and I'm off to the... rest of the airport. Yayyyy! Ugh, booooooo! Yeah, apparently there is a pattern with these international airports. It takes forever to get across the things! I really think the they should offer some kind of service. I mean, you needed a shuttle to get to the Airport Shuttle! I will admit: The FIRST thing I did after getting my baggage was to go outside, smoke a cigarette (you're not so perfect either), and PUT ON MY SNEAKERS!! OH GOD, THE RELIEF!! I also took a couple of pictures while sitting on the ground like a crazy person:

¡Hola, soy tourista!

Look honey, there are taxis and everything!

I went back inside to realize that: I was not done yet. Oh, no! I got through customs and baggage claim, but there was so much more airport to get through. There were eleventy million signs for the Metro, but the Metro never seemed to appear. After a while, you feel like the signs are mocking you. They were all like: "You're almost there! It's coming soon, we swear! No, seriously. Any minute now. Look at you, you're doing so well! Four for you, Glen Coco. You go, Glen Coco! Keep going!"

You know what's at the end? Cookies, son. Cookies.

These are not the cookies you seek.

So, after hobbling through the Jet-way of DOOOOOM (in heels), limping through the Airport That Doesn't End (I mean, I mean dear LORD, I thought I would NEVER make it to the Metro!),  I finally made it to the Metro, and learned something extremely important: Madrid Metro stations have a fuck ton of stairs! I mean y'all: they love the hell out of stairs. Seriously, what is the deal? Everywhere I went there were just long rows of stairs. Now, I'm not a lazy girl (okay, I'm kind of lazy), but when you add in the two huge suitcases I was carrying, my trip through the Metro started to feel like this:

\
I swear, every time I saw stairs I wanted to cry. I was always grateful to see an escalator. Seriously. After two train transfers, I got to my station: Chueca. HALLLLLLLL-LELUJAH! HAAAAALELU-notsofastmorestairs. What. The. Fuuuuuuuuu- Y'all, I seriously had to drag my suitcases up and down flight after flight of stairs. In order to leave Chueca station, I had to drag them up at least three more flights of stairs. My arms were on fire, and I seriously wanted to cry, but I dragged those bastards all the way to the top. Then I promptly got lost. Yup, I misread the directions to my hostel and walked all over my neighborhood. I pretty much walked down every street but the one my hostel was on. Once I got back to Chueca station, I realized that all I had to do after the Everlasting Stairs was turn right and go straight. The hostel was two blocks up. I then felt the hand of GOD come down and write 'Moron' on my forehead. Womp woooooomp.

I got to the hostel an hour earlier than I planned, because I really thought it would take longer to get through customs. I mean, all this foolishness took three hours. Oh: not only was I an hour early, I was three hours early for check in (Oh, you rotten motherf....).
I could either hang around the hostel, or walk around my new home. I looked around the hostel for a bit, then gathered my courage and hit the streets of Madrid!

More to come, I am extremely tired and I'm sure you have read enough. Cheers!

Resolución.

My visa arrived today (YAY!!!), and with this comes a startling revelation: This is really happening. I know that I keep saying that, but it is really slamming home the realization that in one week I am moving to another country. I will be in a different part of the earth, with no family or friends, and I will have to make it on my own. This is not the first time I have moved away from home, but the fact that I am going to freaking EUROPE just terrifies me.

I know that I have every reason to be happy, and I am. I am just also shaking at the thought of getting on a plane that will take me away from my mother, my cat, my city, etc. I am trying to research everything I can think of before I go, and take care of every piece of business that I need to deal with before I get on the plane.

It is a lot of work, it is a lot to deal with. Surreal as it is, it is coming FAST. I need to mentally prepare myself, but there is a part of me that just wants to scream. I just have this feeling of panic, or nerves. Am I ready for this?

Well I know one thing: I'd better GET ready. The last two months have consisted of me getting ready to make this move. I have given up my job, my apartment, my current life for this. It is the chance and opportunity of a lifetime, and I knew that when I applied. I applied knowing that if I got into the program, I would accept the position. Still, there is a part of me that keeps screaming: "What the fuck are you doing!?" The short answer? I am following my heart. I am being (extremely) selfish for once. I always do my best to help others. It is time to do something for myself.

Call me crazy, irresponsible, whatever. It's a done deal. In one week, I will be landing in Madrid, Spain. This is the most impulsive thing I have ever done. Everything is about to change. Even though I am afraid, I chalk it up to nerves. Ever since I knew there was a world out there, I have wanted to see it. I have dreamed of this, cried (Oh God, how I cried) over this, and felt frustration at not being able to go where I wanted. I have worked up disappointed that I was not in the place I just dreamed of, and at one point this year I actually said out loud that the only way I would see Europe was in a box. Funny what people say when they are at wit's end.

I think the reason this is so surreal is that I really believed that things like this do not happen to regular people like me. For most of my life I have felt unremarkable, and accepted that my life just was not as exciting as others. In dealing with this for the last two months, I have learned a bit more about myself, and how awesome and dear my friends and family truly are. I know who supports me, and who does not.

Some have said that by taking this position, I am running from my problems. The thing is, what problems I had will be waiting when I get back, won't they? I am not one to run from issues. I take care of what I need to, and leave nothing unresolved. My legs may shake, but I will walk onto that plane. I will learn how to get to my hostel. I will do what I need to do, and I will survive. I always do. If nothing else, I come home in 6-7 months with a truckload of stories. Or I find a way to make my stay in Spain more permanent.

I wanted someone to tell me that I can do this, but I already know that I am more than capable of handling this. If I need help, I will ask. I will finally see the world. I will finally immerse myself in the places I have only read about. On Friday, December 27th, I will get on that plane. I will meet new people, and make new friends. I will change my life and maybe, just maybe, I will find my new home.

So once again: Am I ready for this?

Yes. I am.



Cross-posted to my Livejournal.

Esperando mi Visa...

Is this how Vladimir and Estragon felt? I mean yes, it's a bit grandiose to compare the two, but I'm a Theatre major: What did you expect? Visa, thy name is 'Godot' and I am in need of a dead tree and bowler hat ASAP.

So I applied for my visa, and was told it would take 2-3 weeks. Well it is now a MONTH, and I am still waiting. STILL. WAITING. I contacted the consulate and was told that they are waiting to hear from Spain. That's right, We are literally waiting for a phone call, email, or forms from the Spanish police that say I am cleared to travel. OH. MY. GOD. I am climbing up the walls over here.

Here's the thing: I have just gone through a month of packing, cleaning, and moving a house into storage. I left my job at a TV news station and another one at a nightclub. I gave away ALL of my furniture, and most of my possessions and now I am in Atlanta waiting for the next step: Madrid.
For this, I have endured days of working, barely sleeping or eating so I could be ready to move. I then took my poor kitty on two flights to get here. I am ready to TO THE DAMN THING. But I can't make any sort of move until my visa comes through. AHHHHHHHH!!!

I know it's less of an update, and more of me bitching about my problems. I know that I am fortunate to be accepted to this program, and that I am privileged to be in the running, blah blah blah. But this is frustrating as fuck, and I really need to get it out.

The GOOD news is that my Gofundme page is still up and running. I'm actually halfway to my goal. If you're interested in donating, you can go to http://www.gofundme.com/54txrg and help me not be homeless once I FINALLY get to Madrid! Keep reading, I'm sure once I get overseas the fun will begin, right? RIGHT!?

¿¡Cuánto Cuesta!?

So... we're still going to Spain. The plan has not changed, although I have 5 days to leave New Orleans and I'm really needing to pack. Now is the time where I find myself without a job, and with nothing but time to pack my whole life into a box, and freak the fuck out. Fun, right!?

Now we take a look at what this really entails: HOLY SHIT Y'ALL, LEAVING THE COUNTRY IS EXPENSIVE!! Between visas, trips to Houston to GET my visa, doctors appointments to get the paperwork for my visa, plane tickets, storage units, I am about $1500 in the red. Oh, and you can forget another month's rent and bills, which are around another $2000. Damn, son. It's a wonder that I'm even eating. Thank goodness for good friends who can cook! Thanksgiving was two days ago, so I'm Thankful for leftovers, which are keeping me going because I can't grocery shop, because I'm leaving town in a few days.

I have learned that I've been placed in a tiny village outside Madrid. It is called La Cabrera, and the pictures are just beautiful. I see lots and lots of... mountains. Huh. Well that's new. Also, it's winter. I hear Spain has REAL winter, which is nothing like the Fisher Price winter we have here in New Orleans. In New Orleans it gets down to the 50's and we are wearing parkas and dusting off the huskies. I wake up on a day that's in the 40s and I seriously consider calling in dead to work. Real Talk. So now I have to look for peacoats and boots. Yay for boot shopping, BOOOOOOOO for snow. Because apparently: Where there are mountains, there tends to be snow. Who knew?

Here I am now: surrounded by boxes and trying to pack what I need. This shall be a journey of its own making, because I'm still trying to figure out what I need to bring -vs- what I want to bring. I have to find a way to get my things to storage, and to get my stuff (and my cat) to Atlanta. This still feels so surreal. Even with the pictures of La Cabrera, and the  newly purchased plane ticket that says: "Yup, Madrid. In two weeks. YOU'RE GOING." I feel like it's not real.

To help me with my trip, I have a Gofundme page up. This is to help me find a place to live, and to not starve in España until I get paid at the end of January. (Woo-hooo, not starving!)
If you feel so inclined, please click here or go to: http://www.gofundme.com/54txrg

Every little bit helps, and as always I appreciate your help. I also want to say a HUGE Thank you to the people at Dark Room Custom PC and Flat Screen Repair for their generosity. These awesome guys DONATED the laptop I'm using right now, to help me teach overseas.

 I can't tell you how good it is to see my entire screen again. Thank you so much guys!

On that note, I shall leave you to pack more boxes. I have a lot to do, and not a lot of time to do it. If I don't see you in a few days, I'll check in from Atlanta. MADRID IN 14 DAYS. ¡HALA MADRID!
(Also, I have no idea why I can't turn off the italics. I'll fix this as soon as I can.)

¿Dónde está mi carta?

This has been my theme song for the last few weeks, with a side of 'Sitting, Waiting, Wishing' by Jack Johnson.

Okay, so let's recap:  we've got the placement (YAY)! ¡Vamos Al España (YAY)! 
Holy hell, I have a TON of crap to do! I have to wait for my carta de nombramiento in order to begin my visa application. I know it may not arrive for a couple of weeks, so I have time to get the paperwork together for my visa application,  I can't get my visa without my carta. GOT THAT!? Good.

Here is where I want to give a shout out to Mr. Trevor Huxham. He was thoughtful enough to document his steps to get to the consulate, and work on your visa application. I'll leave his link here. I would have been lost without his advice, so if you are a first time Auxiliare who needs the Houston Consulate and doesn't know where to turn, LISTEN TO HIM.

So: I need a background check from the state of Louisiana. Thanks to a friend, I was able to get that easily enough. All it took was a drive to Baton Rouge, and I got the background check, AND I was able to get it apostilled. The whole thing took maybe an hour, as opposed to two - weeks of waiting. Awesome. 

However the hardest thing for me has been my medical certificate. Like many people in my country, I don't have insurance. This made it extremely hard to find a doctor who was willing to see me, and sign a letter saying I don't have the plague. I have spent hours waiting in clinics, just to find out that they don't give exams or can't provide me with the forms I need, even when I called in advance to make sure they can do it. I'd almost given up when I found the Odyssey House in Mid-City. They examined me, gave me tests, did blood work, and were able to write me a letter. I should have it this week. *crosses toes*

ALL THIS TIME, I have been waiting forever (♪♫♪ And ever! And ever!And ever! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! ♫♪♫) for my carta de nombramiento to arrive. The original  placement email told me to contact my Ministry in Madrid, and let them know that I would be a late arrival. I did so immediately, and got no answer. I emailed another time: still nothing. I was able to get a name and personal email in the program, and emailed her with the same questions. I received a reply (YAY!), but it basically said "Don't worry, you'll have to just wait." 
I answered immediately (See how that works!?), and reiterated that I couldn't start my visa application without my carta, and I didn't even know where my school was. I received...
....
........
............ nothing. 

Yeah, that's been me for the last month. Every time I check my mailbox... every time I check my email. Every time I get a call, text or person asking: "Any news on your departure date. Did you get your letter yet? Have you heard anything from Spain?" If you're a friend/family member reading this: Don't take it personal. You're not the only one. The only other time I felt this way was when I first applied in April, and spent the next four months being asked "Have you heard anything about Spain!?"

With the entire country of Spain being unable to check their emails, I seemed to have nothing but time. Time to wait. Time to hope. Time to feel like maybe this shit just wasn't going to happen! Yesterday, after another two weeks of silence, I bucked up and sent a fifth email - en español - with my concerns. I pointed out that I'd sent five emails, and that I'd been placed over a month ago. I was frustrated that I heard pretty much nothing from the program. while people who were placed after me were already in Spain and working. I needed an answer, something to tell my boss, landlord, and family. I mean, at this rate I'm not getting to Spain until damn January and I need to get my timeline together people!! A few hours later I see... *gaaaaaasp* a REPLY!

YES! SOMEONE REALIZED WHAT THE REPLY BUTTON IS FOR!! 

I heard from a wonderful woman who assured me (in English, mind you. Damn y'all, my Spanish is that bad!?) that my carta will be sent out in a few days (DAYS, Y'ALL), and that I have been placed in a secondary school in northern Madrid. I'll be working in a town called La Cabrera. I googled images of this place, and it. is. BEAUTIFUL. Wow. 

This is really happening, y'all. I feel like just when it seems surreal, something lands in my lap to say: UMMM, THIS SHIT IS HAPPENING. I've been lax on the packing thing. I need to step up my game.

I keep reminding myself: I said I wanted something different. I said I wanted change. Well, it's around the corner in the form of 6 months in Spain. I'm up for it. Anyone else?

EDIT: I typed this last night. This morning, 25 October (I better get used to that) 2013: I GOT MY CARTA DE NOMBRAMIENTO!!! YES!! LET CONFETTI RAIN FROM THE HEAVENS!!

¡Bienvenido a mi mundo!

Pop Quiz, hot shot: You've been seeing someone for 8 months, things seem to be going great, and you're not thinking it will end anytime soon. Well SURPRISE: It does! You find yourself dumped, at home alone, and dazed. How do you decide to cope with this recent development? Do you:

a) sit around like a sad sack, then drown your sorrows in a gallon of ice cream
b) curl up in the fetal position and cry
c) slash their tires and break their windshield while singing 'You Oughta Know'
d) Get online and apply for a job in a foreign country

If you answered 'a-b', I suggest you add a cat, and a 'Supernatural' marathon.
If you answered 'c', OMG what's wrong with you? Seriously, you actually answered 'C'!? You need anger management and a self help tape... and Jesus!
If you answered 'd', then you're most likely insane (the good kind), irrational (At times. Like you're so perfect!), impulsive, and just. like. ME.

Alrighty, so you've applied for a program that would place you in Spain for 6-8 months as an assistant teacher. The application went in on the last possible day, so the application number is high. That's right: there are about 4,400 people before you, who had the drive to get off their asses and apply for the opportunity of a lifetime. For the next few months, placement after placement is given out to anyone whose name is not KC White. You kick yourself for waiting so long to apply, and spend months constantly checking the program website, and your email every day. You even get a DUMMY email that says "Congratulations on your placement!", and your heart soars. It is almost immediately followed by another email that basically says "Oops, computer glitch. Our bad LOL, love Spain. #YOLO." Womp wooooomp.

By the end of summer, you figure that's a wrap. It's over... Acceptance is a hard thing, but you tell yourself that you're never going to Spain. Ever. At least, not this year. There's always grad school, maybe you'll get to Europe that way? No, screw that. Never. You're never going to Spain, and you'll only see Europe if someone brings your ashes.  After a couple of months of telling people that maybe you'll try again next year, and this just wasn't the time, life returns to normal. That whole thing seems like a dream, it was forever ago. What were you thinking? Silly girl, all talking about leaving the country and shit.

Then on a random ass Wednesday after an 8.5 hour shift, you decide to check your email for the first time. A new email just arrived, subject: Adjudicación de plaza. After the air goes back into your lungs, you open the email to see: "Ha sido adjudicada la plaza en - Madrid - España a su solicitud [insert a fuck ton of numbers here] del programa de Auxiliares de Conversación en España."

Long story short: You're in the program. You're being sent to Madrid. You have five days to accept or decline. You accept (hell yeah, you do! Of COURSE you do, what's wrong with you!?). So now you're going to Spain. 

SPAIN.

...Well shit, son. What's next?