Now what?

I’ll explain why. 

Born and raised in Northern New Jersey where the only way to get anywhere is by car, you don’t get an opportunity to learn the in’s and out’s of a bus or train. Better yet, as a small-town girl no one can really prepare you for this kind of transportation transition either, such as Jersey to Barcelona.

If you know me, you know I am a planner. I thrive on schedules, think two-steps ahead, and find comfort in being prepared for things. Something I have picked up fairly quickly about Europe is it’s not much like me. From my perspective, it’s a very “we’ll figure it out,” way of life.

To be frank, the clash of lifestyles intimidated me. 

I took a taxi from the Barcelona airport directly to my home stay address and of course, leave it to me to not find the apartment complex. 

(Did I mention I’m a small-town girl?)

To make matters worse, my connection was down, so I had no way to contact my home stay mother or anyone for that matter. 

Enter— my first breakdown of the day. 

Once I quit the dramatics, I worked up the courage and used my butchered Spanglish to ask a stranger, who then politely escorted me to the apartment complex.

Another thing about me is I’m a busy body. Here’s how my mind works:

Problem: I feel lonely today.

Solution: Go for a drive.

Problem: I’m not reaching my highest potential.

Solution: Workout for another hour. 

Problem: I spent 6$ on a coffee.

Solution: Pick up two extra shifts at work. 

When things start to get even a little bit cloudy in my head, my first instinct is to DO. DO. DO. On a personal note, I sometimes struggle with being present and not thinking two steps ahead. For instance, getting a cup of coffee and stressing how and when I can make that money back vs. just enjoying the damn cup of coffee. 

When I arrived at my home stay and was greeted by my host mother, Sandra, she immediately gave me a tour of the apartment and allowed me to get settled in while she returned to her work. 

This is exactly how it happened:

I unpacked every last item in my luggage's, sat on my new bed and thought, 

“Now what?”

I wasn’t going to wander the foreign streets alone, had no friends in the area, and had no car. While the normal person would have laid down and took a nap after an 8-hour flight, I decided to cry. And cry. 

And cry.

I didn’t know what to do with myself, where I was, or what to do.

I quite literally lost my mind. 

The reason I’m so open about this is because it’s funny to me how quickly a person’s personality presents itself once they are placed outside of their comfort zone. 

Okay, here’s the good part now. 

As I lay in the bed of my sorrows, Sandra walks in, hugs me and says, “Come walk with me.”  A little resistant, I decided to go anyway. We strolled the charming streets of Barcelona and just talked. 

She assured me whatever I was feeling was bound to go away, and that this was normal. It helped, and she was right.

When I was walking around with Sandra, I took notice of all of the people. Such as the ones in small groups sitting outside enjoying their coffee and a cigarette. Or the ones walking aimlessly hand-in-hand on a Tuesday afternoon going about -2.0 miles per hour.

The kind of people that seem like they have everything figured out. And honestly, they probably do. 

For these next four months, I’ll be taking notes.