**I apologize about the changes in tense. I wrote this at varying times*
I am sitting in the Madrid Barajas airport. It is 4:53 in
the morning. I have a 6 o’clock flight to Milan Bergamo, and from there I start
my adventure. Until 5:21, when my flight begins boarding, I have to entertain
myself.
First, I think about all the money I have already spent.
Yesterday (Thursday) I purchased a new suitcase for the price of 35 euros.
Pretty good, I thought, because it allowed me to bring everything but a couple
pairs of socks with me. Though truth be told, my laptop doesn’t fit in either
stuffed bag that I possess, so I will be sneaking it onto the airplane. Back to
the suitcase. With two stuffed, heavy suitcases, I arrived at the airport.
RyanAir had not yet opened its check-in counters (it was only about 3:40) so I
sat down next to a column to wait. A Polish girl named Veronica struck up
conversation with me, and I spent my time waiting chatting with her and her
friend, Monica. We stood in the check-in line together, and it was Veronica who
realized that my bag was most likely overweight. At this point, I had no
options. Both bags were shut beneath the weight of a human being, and I was not
about to try rearranging in the check-in line. So I approached the counter,
hoping I would find myself speaking to a generous and kind worker. I purchased
15 kg. My bag weighed 19 kg. Do you want to know how much RyanAir charges per
kilo? 20 euros. My heart sunk. Luckily, the man behind the counter only made me
pay for 3 kilos, not 4, when I told him that I was going to the United States
and therefore taking all of my belongings with me. However, it still meant 60
euros, down the drain. As I handed the money to the attendant at the payment
desk, I had an eerie feeling that this was just the beginning. As of 4:59 am, I
have not had to shell out any extra money, but I have a feeling that other
airlines will feel the same about my bag, though hopefully they will be the
only ones complaining about the weight.
To jump ahead in the day, it’s now evening, and I am in
Venice. Though throughout the day, I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going to
end up tonight. After arriving in Milan, I took a bus to the Bergamo train
station, as planned, to catch a train to Venice. To my dismay, however, I
discovered that there was a strike at the station, and the train I needed was
cancelled. So I instead purchased a ticket to the Milano Centrale train
station, to hopefully head to Venice from there. Then, all of the trains
leaving the Bergamo station were cancelled, so I traded my train ticket in for
a return bus ticket to the airport. There, after speaking to my parents, I
discovered that the strike was country wide, and the tourism office had no idea
when it was going to end. After evaluating my sparse options, I took a shuttle
bus to the Milano Centrale station, to see what else was available. I
discovered to my delight that the strike was to end at 9 pm that night, and
that some trains were still going through. With the help of a kind British
lady, I purchased a ticket for the 2:05 train to Venice, with my plans
seemingly back on track. After a delicious lunch of a BK double cheeseburger, I
boarded my train and was off. The weather was quite bleak, so there wasn’t much
to look at. By the time I arrived at the Venezia S.L. train station, it was
raining. So off I went in search of my hostel. I had directions written down,
but after crossing the first bridge, made of stairs mind you, not a ramp, I
realized that the construction being done altered my directions. After speaking
to an English-speaking taxi, and to my hostel over the phone, I headed out
again. This time, my only directions were “Just ask for Campo Santa Margharita,
you are very close”. I crossed at least 5 or 6 bridges, made one wrong turn,
but eventually arrived. I have blisters on my hands and feet to prove it, and
some very wet luggage as well. I have now checked into my hostel, and have two
very nice English-speaking roommates, originally from Hong Kong and South
Africa, that now reside in Australia. I have to leave on a train for Florence
at 10:27 am tomorrow, so I don’t really get to see any of the city I was most
looking forward to. Most of what I did see during my walk was beautiful. I am
going to try to get some sightseeing in tomorrow morning, so hopefully it will
not all be a waste. I did find out
from my roommates that there are more strikes planned, but I believe they are
going to occur after my last train ride on Sunday, for which I am very
grateful.
Called it a night at 10 pm, after having pizza with French fries
on it for dinner and taking a nice hot shower.
Reflection::
I decided that throughout my final journey, I will reflect
on various aspects of my semester. This will save me the effort of writing one
huge final reflection post, and make my posts during my trip that much more
interesting.
This reflection will be about my classes. I just had all of
my final exams yesterday, so it seems fitting that this would be fresh in my mind.
Overall, I enjoyed my academics here in Madrid. My workload was much lighter
than it ever has been in the US, or ever will be, which was beneficial since I
spent most of my time traveling and exploring.
Track class = Class with Charo is always a battle. In my
grammar class, it was mostly a battle to be taught. We never really had
lecture, simply time for open questions and time to review the homework. And of
course, time to assign more homework. I did learn from my textbook, the good
one, but I don’t think much of what I learned in this class can be attributed
to my teacher. She is a very stubborn, egoistic, and Spanish person. No place
is better than Spain, no place in Spain is better than Madrid. No answer is
better than her answer, and if you have the same opinion, or can put up a very
good counter-argument, you become her favorite student. I fell into neither of
these categories. I simply did the homework, came to class, and tried not to
explode. Might not sound that difficult, but it cost me a lot of energy,
especially at 9:10 in the morning. Overall, for a class I don’t even need back
home, it was not worth the effort or the stress.
Cuento class = Another class with Charo, but much more
bearable. The stories we read were always interesting, whether I liked them or
not. We never had written homework, and our exams were very easy. I like short
stories as a form of literature. It’s between them and poems as my favorites. I
prefer the shorter works because I think it actually takes more effort and
talent to concentrate so much information into so few words. Overall, I really
enjoyed the content of this class, though the teacher isn’t who I would’ve
picked.
Literature class = This was probably my favorite class of
the semester. I really enjoyed the material, and I am looking forward to the
second two classes in the series. Obviously, Spanish literature is of great
interest to me since that is one of my majors back at Maryland. But my
professor, Jorge, really made the class great. He is very knowledgeable about
literature and language. The way he set up the class really helped fuel class
discussion. We worked in small groups, which forced even the quietest students
to speak up. I really appreciated his dedication to the subject, as well as his
teaching style. I will really miss him.
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