Los Viejos

The sun was rising over Spain when we flew into the city.

It sounds like the beginning of an epic novel. You don't know where it's taking the passenger, where they're coming from, what will happen as they land, but that sun you understand. A rising sun - we've all seen it, but have you seen it from Madrid?

In a way, this sentence is the beginning of my epic novel, corny as that sounds. As the next five weeks unfold, I will scribble fragments of what happens in my own story on this blog, and so I begin today for real, actually sitting in a hostel in Madrid, Spain, and writing these words.

Los viejos - travels - is the topic here (and I'm doing more than one in a day to cover all of these new experiences). My travels were good, but long and tiring.

I flew from Springfield, IL to Chicago, to D.C. to Madrid. Since I've flow domestically before, it wasn't anything new from home to D.C. The one really exciting thing was getting off of the tiny little plane (my friend made the joke that it'd be like strapping rockets to the van, turns out it was!) and we actually got to use the stairs and step out onto the tarmac. TOO COOL!

However, it became an adventure getting to Madrid. First, my plane from Chicago landed, on time in their defense, but since they could not get the jetway to operate, we had to deplane over 20 minutes later. My connection was only 45 minutes until boarding time, and losing that 20 minutes meant that it was more of run through Dullus than a pleasant walk. Luckily, I was in the same terminal, though at opposite ends.

I knew I had made it to the right gate when everything suddenly became duel languages. The announcements were in English and Spanish, a mother was scolding her two sons for being selfish in Spanish, a college-aged boy was accompanied by his hysterical mother to the gate, and he pushed her off and said goodbye in the most non-committal American way possible.

The photo is of the plane I took to Madrid. Aer Lingus - an Irish carrier - is apparently famous for their shamrock logo.

The international flight was full of firsts for me. First time leaving the country, first time being served a meal in the air, first time standing up while on a moving airplane, first time using a bathroom on an airplane (it was 8 hours, even I couldn't resist!), first time meeting a real, live Spaniard.

And then of course, the first time seeing Spain, as the sun was rising, as my adventures were actually beginning, and as I got really excited for this trip for the first time. I've been everything - excited, nervous, upset, worried, intrigued, nervous again - but as the plane was landing, I was giddy-excited for the first time,  and I knew it was going to be a good trip. But of course, that would change quickly.