So my thought process the past few days has gone something like this:
“YAY SPAIN!” “I want to go home.” “YAY SPAIN!” “I want to go back to Capernwray.” “YAY SPAIN!” “I want my daddy.”
Needless to say, it’s been exhausting. Lets start with Monday when I said goodbye to Capernwray for the last time. I said goodbye to a few people, but I was so ready to go, but sad at the same time and I couldn’t be bothered with crying. I feel bad. I should have said goodbye to more people, so if you’re reading this: I really do love and miss you all at Cape! Now fast forward past two train rides and a plane ride to my arrival in Malaga. What should have only been a 20 minute delay turned into an hour resulting in me missing the last bus of the day into Granada. I was just about to panic when I walked outside and saw where I was. It was so beautiful. I didn’t really have any expectations of what Spain was going to look like so I was completely taken aback by how gorgeous it was. After that I kind of felt like it didn’t matter if I slept on a park bench I was just happy to be in Spain. Five phone calls with my dad and one donut later I got a hold of Maarten (the guy running the English camp.) I told him what had happened and I could tell he was surprised at my lack of panic. He contacted some friends he had in Malaga. A lovely British woman named Sarah picked me up in her car soon after. She fed me a delicious dinner and sent me to bed in a wonderful room with an amazing balcony overlooking the mountains to my right and the entire city to my left. It was marvelous. I was so sad to go the next morning, but I dragged my suitcase into the bus and headed to Granada. I then spent the next 24 hours with Maarten and his lovely family. He has 4 kids, 2 dogs, 1 guinea pig, and 1 freaky cat. All of whom were wonderful. Also all of whom spoke English. I think God decided my life had been much too pleasant and easy the last 2 and a half months. So on Wednesday afternoon I found myself alone in an unfamiliar room in a house full of unfamiliar people who spoke an unfamiliar language. It was a little overwhelming and I would be lying if I told you I didn’t panic just a little… ok a lot. It took all of my energy not to burst into tears. I was then driven to a pool to meet the 17 year old daughter who’s room I was sharing. I was dropped off to hang out with her and her friends. As I began talking to them, the panic disappeared. Now I say talking, but I should say attempting very poorly to communicate. But the situation was just so funny that I couldn’t help but enjoy myself. I’m sure they were very amused at my poor attempts to tell them about my life in America, but we bonded over the universal love of the show Friends. It’s now Friday. I go to pick up Sarah Haymon in 30 minutes and I haven’t spoken to anyone who speaks English in 48 hours. It’s still a little overwhelming, but I’m learning to appreciate the uniqueness of the situation. I had no idea what I was getting myself into coming here and I’m still not entirely sure. However, I trust that God knows what he’s doing and my prayer is that God shows himself to this family through me. Thanks to all of you for all the support. Besos!