Feet on ground, air breathed in.

My eyes are burning, because I am addicted to contact lenses even during air travel (I did take them out for a few hours to nap). The 2.5-hour flight from London to Madrid was the quietest plane ride I have experienced, probably because it was siesta time. The entire plane was napping, except for a couple of giggling American girls (myself vehemently excluded). I landed in Madrid Barajas Airport about 7 hours ago. There was a bit of a walk and a train ride within the airport to get out. A girl approached me while I was waiting for the train and asked in Spanish if this was the way to the baggage claim.

I blinked at her, shocked that she was addressing me in Spanish. She was about to dismiss me with an apologetic wave when the gears kicked in and I responded with a nervous, “Creo que sí!” (meaning, I believe so!). Pablo (my supervisor) and Erika (BC Global Practice alumni/only friend in this city) picked me up, and they even had a sign for me! I’ve never been picked up at the airport with a welcome sign. The ride to Erika’s house (where I am temporarily staying until I can make my own housing arrangements) was long enough to give me a sense of the size and layout of the city. I struggled and managed to string together a few coherent, slow, sentences in Spanish during the ride.

We passed by Bernabeu Stadium, home of the Real Madrid fútbol team, and that was the only point when I really felt like I was here. Otherwise, it’s like California, except the street signs are different colors.

Pablo says that the first impression you get of a city tells you a lot, and I completely agree. I told him that when I first landed in Boston, the first thing I did was to look at the Departures board for the next flight back to Los Angeles. I didn’t look at the Departures board today.