American Girl in Spain
For the first time in my life, this Friday, I will be boarding a plane and leaving the country.
I've always wanted to travel, ever since my grandparents sent me postcards from exotic places and brought me back hand made things from locals there. I was in elementary and I pointed out on the map to my class where they were, with help from my teacher of course. And I imagined what it was like there. I imagined exotic foods and places, strange animals and people. I dreamed of being there one day. Being somewhere. I've known this town, the mountains, the ancient buildings of downtown, the slow, southern drawl of life. But for a little girl from a small town, I craved to know more, experience more. I still do.
So Friday I will be boarding a plane. I've never done that either. Boarded a plane. It's frightening now, packing. Frightening and exciting at the same time, like riding on the up hill slope on a roller coaster. And packing, don't get me started. All the rules and regulations for everything logically makes sense, but otherwise alludes me. All these months leading up to this, going to the meetings, Google-ing pictures of what the places look like, and dreaming, I never imagined all the detail that goes into the last few minutes before. So now I'm ordering euros, figuring out a credit card, discovering the real art of rolling my clothes for a tighter fit.
I know what to expect, I've got an itinerary of what we're going to be doing, and seeing. The cathedrals, Costa del Sol, the Alcazar, flamenco dancing. But it still seems make believe, like I'm packing for a trip I made up in my head.
Mostly though, I'm ready. I'm ready to see what else this world has to offer, what's beyond the walls of Haywood County. Maybe it'll really happen, but it seems like a dream.
So next week, while I'm in Spain, if I get a chance and a computer, I'll try to write a blog about my adventures out of the USA. If not, I'll tell about it afterwards.