They say home is where the heart is...

...But what if your heart is in different places?

Having just returned from my first trip back to the UK after 140 days in Spain, I have found myself faced with an internal conflict.  I had a wonderful, jam packed week, full of my favourite people in the world, but even though I enjoyed myself immensely, I wasn't sad to leave, and actually found myself saying "I'm going home" as I was returning to Spain.  This surprised me, and as I flopped on my bed, relieved after my long journey back to Salamanca, I started thinking about what home means to me.  After much deliberation, I have decided that it is ok to call more than one place, home.  This is a strange idea to me, and I almost feel guilty somehow, but I have several branches of my life which make me happy, and I should be celebrating this fact.

1. Oxford

I haven't written about him much, it hasn't really felt appropriate, but after more than four years of leaving a piece of my heart there on a regular basis, Paul makes Oxford one of my homes.  The city now feels so familiar and is so full of wonderful memories that it has become very important to me.  It is looking very likely that I will be spending a lot more time there in the near future, and this is a comforting thought.  I shouldn't feel guilty about wanting to live in a beautiful city with the boy I love, and I like the path that the next part of my life is taking.

2. Durham

As I walked up the Bailey the other day, doing the usual, frustrating "why-are-tourists-so-slow" dance among the crowds, I found myself smiling - it felt like I had never been away, and I was very glad to be back.  The town aside, I was obviously more pleased to see my friends.  I knew I had been missing being back in Durham with them, but it wasn't until the X1 pulled into the station that I realised just how much.  They gave up their beds, their rooms, their toiletries, lots of their money, as well as time that they would usually spend doing work just to spend time with me on my whirlwind weekend.  The last two years with them have been amazing, and it took this week to realise just how lucky I am to love my uni city, and have so many beautiful friends. Thank you all :)

3. Salamanca

My most recent home, my love for this city has grown exponentially throughout my stay.  I fell asleep on the bus home from the airport, and woke up to see the illuminated cathedral in front of me, getting closer as the bus made its approach.  It would be very naive of me to think I know the city inside out; I discover new things (read: bars and cafés) everyday, but there is something very special about leaving my city centre flat and walking through the magnificent Plaza Mayor every morning, nonchalantly photo-bombing keen American tourists. I have met some people who I hope will be life long friends, and I have been lucky with my housemates, who have helped to make the flat feel like home.  I am already dreading leaving in a few weeks, and as I have said in a previous post, I am certain I will return.

4. Home

Saving the best till last, Nunthorpe will always be home.  I loved being back at my house, not having to worry about anything at all - I didn't have to wear a hat, scarf and three pairs of socks to bed, nor struggle home with bags of groceries before preparing an omelette for one.  On the contrary, I spent two lovely evenings watching primetime TV, eating yummy food and putting the world to rights with my parents.  I realise its been hard for them to see me gradually fly the nest, but at least they can take comfort in the fact that where they are will always be my home, and that they have taught me well enough how to be a reasonable human being, so I can take perfectly good care of myself when I'm "off gallivanting".

I am at a confusing time of my life, perhaps, but I can take advantage of this in my ability to "go home" to more than one place.

Salamanca: Home from home

As I approach the end of my fourth month in Salamanca, I feel I can say it really feels like home.
Disclaimer: All those with strong aversions to clichés, stop reading now.
Looking back at May and June, and thinking of how nervous and worried I was - it feels like years ago.      After a second year of worry and seemingly endless meetings of "How not to die on your Year Abroad", it still took quite a while to sink in that I was finally here.  No matter how many teachers, friends and fourth year returners told me "It will be the best year of your life",  I (like many of my pre-YA peers, I imagine) felt almost certain this would not be so in my case, but I was determined to give it a go all the same.  And now, 4 months down the line, I feel I have started to understand what they were all talking about.  I will admit I have been extremely lucky so far: bar a few dull housemates over the summer, my flat situation is perfect.  While not ideal for weekend lie-ins, living with a family has been perfect for my Spanish.  The children are certainly not afraid to point out my mistakes, and as I have no "au-pair like" responsibilities,  I have the luxury of being able to choose (more or less) when I want to play Monster High with them.  Furthermore, the family have 4 spare rooms, which they rent out to students.  Here I have struck gold again; in September, two Spanish girls arrived (Victoria, from Asturias, and Fátima from Lanzarote) and as well as helping me learn to speak, I don't think I could have chosen nicer housemates, and we get along really well.  I am already well on the way to converting them into Brits, after I bought a teapot and have been generous with my imports of Tetley.  In fact, to celebrate the arrival of my Bisto (thanks Mum!) today we are going to make a Sunday dinner.  On my birthday, when I returned home after work, Vicky, Fátima and Angela (our other flatmate from the US) met me at the door with a birthday cheesecake - and I hadn't even told them about my love for desserts! It must be fate...

Here I am with Fátima and Vicky on my birthday

My job also has its advantages - as well as receiving a renumeration from the company, I am gaining valuable work experience everyday.  My colleagues are friendly, and although interns come and go every few months, they still made the effort to welcome me, and are happy to help when I ask a question.  With the arrival of my Erasmus friends from Durham last month, I was starting to wish I didn't have a 9-5 job, as I always have to leave gatherings early in order to not show my sleep-deprived face to my colleagues the next morning.  But, on the positive side, I have been able to experience life as part of a Sales team, and I have learnt to value my evenings and weekends, instead of continuing with the typical student lifestyle and its bizarre, nocturnal timetable.  

This month has been the hardest so far; the thought of spending my 21st birthday away from home and knowing that all my friends have gone back to Durham, Paul and I spending our longest time apart to date, as well as the departure of Caterina (my best friend since our first day here), I would be lying if I said I hadn't had any blue moments.  However, luckily my parents were able to visit me for my birthday and it was great to be able to show them what I have been up to for the last few months.  Although I still don't know everything there is to know about the city, as I carry out my daily routine and fight off tourists as I walk the familiar route to and from work, or go for coffee with my new friends, Salamanca now feels like home.  I am already wishing I could stay all year, and I am certain that when I leave in December, it won't be for the last time. 

¿Do you have it in 'L'?

After arriving in Spain for my six month stay with only 20kg of belongings (see previous posts), as well as living in a strategically chosen flat in the centre of town, it would be hard for me to avoid the occasional spot of retail therapy.  One thing that I noticed almost straight away was the difference in sizing of items of clothing.  Forget our familiar standards of 8 to 18, here in Spain it is common to buy clothes in sizes S, M, L etc... Being a standard UK size 12 (10 if I breathe in) but often the largest of my girlfriends, I found being a size M/L unsurprising, but it got me thinking, what do bigger than average girls do?  This seems like a silly theme to write about, but it surprised me even further when I saw bras being sold in only these 3 sizes (S M L) and it even seemed alien to me.  I am yet to find an Ann Summers, La Senza or equivalent, but many clothes shops do have whole floors dedicated to cutesy, pretty lingerie.  Much to my dismay (but to the relief of my bank balance), the majority are too small for my reasonably sized assets.  I don't think I have ever seen a sign like the one above, (translation: we now stock more C Cup bras, ask us!), and there aren't bra fitting services in even the specialist lingerie stores.  I spoke about this with my beautiful housemate from Lanzarote, and for her this is normal, she even cringed at the thought of someone measuring your correct size at the back of Marks and Spencers.  When I asked what "non average" girls our age do, the answer was pretty much make do with what you can find.  I have been here three months, and although I have to say that Spanish people are (in general) more beautiful than us Brits, I have not noticed anything that suggests a great difference in body size.  Admittedly, I haven't looked up any boob-related statistics to support my musings, but using the commonly found scientific instrument, eyes, I can confirm that some teenagers and young ladies are bigger than I am.  In this foreign land, pretty Double Ds don't seem to exist, and it is not common to know your official bra size. I know for sure that a previous version of myself (younger and less confident) would be upset to be branded as "large" and I would be devastated to not even be able to find nice underwear in normal shops, and it makes me wonder if there are some Spanish girls out there who feel this way, or have simply accepted these strict categories.

Viva la fiesta!!!

Thanks to Sak Noel's number 1 hit of Summer '11 "Loca People", a particular image of the Spanish fiesta has grown in the minds of us Brits as some sort of crazy, giant rave, with hot, sweaty people spilling out of over-full bars and dancing in the streets until the early hours.  Fortunately for me, I have been able to live this elusive experience, and I can confirm is is definitely not your typical "free-entry-before-11pm-leave-your-dignity-and-go-home-after-two-hours" Klute night out.  The Spanish are somewhat notorious for their ferias and festivos; originally instituted by the Church, each Spanish city and town have their own "Bank Holiday" in honour of their patron saint's day.  It varies in each town, as every Feria has its own traditions and meanings for the population, but from what I can see, it is basically an excuse for a huge party.  The economic crisis has only slightly dampened the festivities: I heard that Valladolid's annual ten day festivos have been cut short by only a day or two and our very own Plaza Mayor has been converted into a music festival stage.  Last month, I was lucky enough to attend La Feria de Malaga for a day.  Recommended by almost every young person who has been, it was definitely worth the 8 hour drive down.  

Arriving on a (fortunately) cloudy day, the temperatures were still reaching 40 degrees, and I have never been so grateful for Salamanca's non-humid climate.  We were met with the sight of a sea of people, many of whom had come from all over Spain to experience the legendary all day party.  Although it was a Saturday, every shop in the centre was closed, many of the windows boarded up to protect their property from clumsy, drunk partygoers.  On the other hand, every bar was open, offering  delightful ranges of alcoholic drinks. As it was still only 4pm, we decided to go steady, find somewhere with air conditioning and food that didn't look like it would give us food poisoning, or come with a free shot.  After an unsuccessful search, fighting through crowds and escaping from dodgy cafes for about an hour, we ended up in McDonald's - I now know the reason behind the name "Happy Meal".

Normally I don't like huge crowds of drunk people, the reasons for this are obvious - stranger danger, pickpocketing, fights, trampling, the list is endless...But one thing I did realise was how safe I felt.  I don't know whether that is me maturing and realising that Roger was exaggerating in his speeches of how to avoid dying in foreign lands, but it did seem as though everyone just wanted to have a good time.  I "went with the flow" as the crowds carried me through the streets, following the music and drums and flamenco dancers. Despite queuing for an age for the bathroom and being hotter than the sun, I can say I am definitely glad I got the chance to see it.

I barely had time to recover from this crazy, city-wide party when the Ferias de Salamanca started the other day.  For the past week, casetas have been popping up in every Plaza in the centre, and a huge stage has appeared in the Plaza Mayor.  Although I was excited, having never been before, I did not realise the scale of these ferias until last night.  

As a lover of all things to do with food, this is my idea of heaven. 

 Early in the evening, all the casetas open, offering a deal of a drink and their own pincho de feria , giving you a chance to wander around and sample everything that Spanish cuisine has to offer.  

Then, from 11pm begins the concert in the Plaza Mayor.  Last night the DJ Carlos Jean almost instantly filled the Plaza, with huge crowds appearing from nowhere, and turning the space into a music festival.

Although I am now a huge fan of the caña con limon, one thing I have missed while being here is cider. However, last night we found some, supposedly too strong to drink straight from the bottle unless you pour it from a great height into the glass.  

I think it's better if I just drink it as normal.

How to spend the ERASMUS grant before it arrives.

As the title suggests, I am waiting for some money.  Since I have already discovered what to expect from the International Office (they still haven’t replied to an email I sent in June), I realise I may be waiting for some time.  The ERASMUS grant is a few hundred euros for every month of your work or study placement, to enable you to explore and discover the country in which you were living, and I presume it is supposed to act as a British contribution to the economies of Europe.  I have been told I am eligible for this money, and although I have no idea when I will receive it, I have wasted no time in visiting various places in Spain.  Working full time and with fixed hours has been definitely something I need to get used to, but this means I know I get my evenings and weekends completely free, without needing to worry about summatives, extra reading or exams.  And so, with our precious 65 hours between work finishing on Friday and the dreaded Monday morning, we usually like to go on some sort of excursion.  The very first of these trips (which now seems a very long time ago) was to a town called La Alberca, just over an hour away by bus in the mountain range of La Sierra de Francia.

The village is home to about 1000 people, and is known for its jamón ibérico.  As far as I remember, on every street there was a place that sold it! 

I very much enjoyed visiting the town, with its quaint Plaza Mayor and small streets, which made me think of the Shambles in York. (Although a lot sunnier, with a strong scent of ham.)

As el jefe of the group on this day, Sebastian had been very organised, and found a short, publicised route we could follow through the mountains, to get out of the city and see a bit more of the countryside.  This was a perfect idea, until we somehow lost our way on the well signposted path, and ended up trekking through the forest in the blistering heat for a good few unnecessary hours.  My personal highlight was coming across this sign:

*(Abejas is bees).  

However, after chatting to the friendly bee-keeper who pointed us in the right direction, we finally arrived at the correct path, and I have never been so happy - our joy had to be documented:

I think I am only just recovering.

Erasmus adventures to be continued...

Los Juegos Olímpicos!

A few days on since the Spice Girls made all my dreams come true by reuniting for the Closing Ceremony, the question on everybody’s lips now is: What do we do now the Olympics have finished!? For two wonderful weeks, I could return home from work, or wake up on a weekend and tire myself out watching endless hours of other people doing sport.  Now I am at a loss; no more Team GB, or discovering sports I never knew existed has pushed me into a ‘Post Games’ depression.

I imagine my London 2012 experience would have been very different if I were still at home, but I have thoroughly enjoyed seeing familiar images of the UK flash up on screen, and I don’t think I have ever been this proud of my home country.  Although the Spanish TV coverage has left a lot to be desired, I still managed to support Team GB, thanks to the world wide web and the BBC live update.  I am especially gutted I missed the Brownlees well deserved success in the men’s triathlon because I was at work, but I was still able to follow their progress with the text updates online and regular messages from Mum.  I must admit, that afternoon wasn’t particularly productive for me...

As for watching live on TV, I was often disappointed, and I don’t think I will ever take the BBC for granted again! Forget the luxury of the red button, Spain only had two channels which showed the Games, which on occasion had the same coverage. I’m sure you can imagine my delight at discovering both channels were showing some sort of martial art quarter-final when I wanted to watch the GB hockey teams in the semis.  One of the first things I noticed when the Olympics began (and maybe it happens at home too but I’ve never realised), was the fact that 98% of the time sports were only shown if there were Spanish teams involved.  This meant that for the first few days I was subjected to more Olympic football than I have ever seen, until thankfully Spain were knocked out of the competition unexpectedly early. In addition, I now know what handball is (and could probably tell you all of the rules), and I appreciate the skill involved in water-polo.  

In the years leading up to the Games, we complained about the cost, among other things, and worried about terrorist attacks, whether or not we would be ready, and what the world would think of us.  Now it’s all over, and from what I can gather, I’m sure I’m not the only one thinking “When can we host the Olympics again?!”

The lesson of the day

A classroom full of people with different nationalities has proved to be very educational in many ways. Aside from actually practising our Spanish (I have classes everyday between 1 and 3pm), we have had some interesting debates over the last few weeks.  Since we are a very international bunch, we tend to talk about our respective countries and represent the general views held by the people.  But as British, Italian, Spanish, and German citizens, we have tended to avoid going too deeply into potentially contentious issues such as politics and the Euro.  Therefore, we stick to stereotypes and perceptions (which of course are linked to politics) and we have found that perceived ideas of a general nation tend to be true. We all appreciated the following joke:

In fact, we agreed on the majority of this, except for our Italian friends, who disagreed with their contribution to heaven...

Today, we discussed a famous song by well known Spanish pop group 'Mecano', entitled Cruz de Navajas, the lyrics of which tell a story about a young couple who live together but hardly see each other.  After analysing the words and ignoring the lovely (and therefore misleading) tune, the man catches the woman having an affair and somehow ends up dead.  The song doesn't specify how he is killed, but we each offered our own opinions: the Hungarian suggested he committed suicide after seeing his woman with her lover, our British contribution was that he was killed in a brawl with the other bloke, while our Spanish teacher insisted that our tragic hero would have killed his love to avenge his honour, and the new bloke acted in defence to protect the girl.  When I questioned why the man would want to kill his wife, the Spanish reply was: well, she had caused him much pain because he loved her so much and she betrayed his honour.  This left me puzzled as I couldn't understand how you can bring yourself to kill someone if you truly love them.  The majority of my peers seemed to agree with me, although apparently this reaction in a similar situation is not uncommon in Spain. However, I am still unsure whether this is a cultural difference, or a more a difference of generation or character.  

One thing's for sure, I am learning more than just the language here, and I've definitely got a long way to go before understanding the country as well.

¡¡¡ Qué calor !!!

Thanks to phone calls with my family and numerous posts and statuses on facebook, I gather that the weather at home at the moment is currently even worse than a typical British summer. In light of this, I thought I would share my weather experiences too: 

And to think I almost wore long trousers today!

As you can see, the mornings are very pleasant, I leave for work just after 8.30 so it's not too hot - although today I could sense something had changed. I didn't even need my cardigan! Shock.  But I was right, and by the time we left the office to sit outside for lunch and walk to class, it was above 30oC in the shade, and the usual breeze had dropped.  I felt like I was climbing Everest while inside an oven, rather than just popping up the road (which is a hill, to be fair).  When work finished, we moaned and complained as we plodded around the streets, hopping between patches of shade until we found the bar.  A couple of glasses of 'tinto de verano' later and I was still grumpy and tired, but I managed to drag myself home where I am now hiding in the cool safety of my room.

Good news though: the boiler is fixed! Can't wait for a hot shower.... :/

Reasons to miss the UK

Now I have been here just over two weeks, I would say I am starting to leave the "honeymoon period" behind.  Although I am still finding it very exciting to be living in Spain and I am discovering new things everyday, I am also realising there are some things I can only find in the UK.

1. Tea - For those of you who know me even a little, you will know that I LOVE tea! Preferably Tetley or Twinings English Breakfast, milk, no sugar. In Spain, even a kettle is hard to come by, so I can at least count myself lucky that we have one in our kitchen! However, this is where my luck ends.  Unless I spend about 4€ on 3 teabags of PG Tips or go and milk a cow so I don't have to use long life milk, I will have to do without for a while.

2. Tesco - The food in general is still something I cannot get my head around.  At first glance, my local supermarket looks just like the ones I am used to at home, but upon closer inspection, I find myself disappointed.  For example, as mentioned above, fresh milk can only be found in a tiny corner of the yoghurt section, and even then it is only sold in large bottles - not ideal for a single tea drinker. There are entire aisles dedicated to a mysterious substance called tomate frito, something to which I have not yet found the attraction, and there is not a Dolmio or Lloyd Grossman sauce in sight.  They don't sell even basic medication such as paracetamol, you have to go to a pharmacy. The fruit and vegetables are all loose and must be weighed and then labelled...apart from the potatoes.  You can only buy them in big bags, but I thought "it's ok because I can make mash." No. The Spanish culinary gods are laughing at me once again, for I have been unable to find a masher anywhere, apart from in El Corte Ingles (equivalent Debenhams or House of Fraser), which cost about 20€ and I refused to pay that.  So for now I'll have to make do with a big bag of spuds and a little fork.

3. TV - I could dedicate an entire post to Spanish telly and its weirdness, and I probably will, but that's for another day...It's entertaining enough, but at times, like nothing I've ever seen before.  There are a number of dubbed programs which I would normally watch in England, ie., Fresh Prince of Bel Air, Scrubs, Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares and Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, but it appears there are only 3 people working for 'the dubbing company', a man (to do ALL male voices in ALL shows), a woman (to do the same, for the female characters and also for the children) and the Indian man who does the voice of Raj in Big Bang Theory.  This past week has been the running of the bulls in San Fermin, so instead of watching the news on a morning, it has been 'San Fermin: Live' - a TV program which provides commentary on the events to come later in the morning, plus an update on the number of injuries sustained by the crazy people trying to outrun a load of angry bulls. I miss the BBC.

4. Hot Water - One of the main reasons for my writing this post.  The flat has not had hot water for a few days, since the boiler (la caldera - at least I am learning new words) is broken.  We had to wait until today (Monday morning) to call out the boiler fixer men, obviously, since we are in Spain and nothing happens on a Sunday or Saturday afternoon (see next point).  However, when I returned home today from the swimming pool in the 30oC heat, I was met with another very common word: the boiler will be fixed mañana. Of course.  At least I now have a very special relationship with the sink and the kettle.

5.  Sunday Shutdown - If you go out on a Sunday afternoon, the only place you will find people is the Plaza Mayor (as mentioned in a previous post).  Elsewhere, the streets, which are normally rammed, are deserted, all shops are closed and shuttered up.  Popping out to get some bread (or anything at all) is not an option - I think I see more people on a Saturday morning at 5am after a night out than on a Sunday.  Although I shouldn't complain, it gives me an excuse not to do anything all day!


I'm still enjoying myself, promise! There are also a lot of aspects to the Spanish way of life I am preferring, and I plan to tell you all about those too, eventually...

¡Buen finde!

You heard it here first: I stayed out on Friday night until 5.30am! Unbelievable scenes from a girl who is normally tucked up in bed by 1 after suffering through Klute. Maybe it was the excitement of a new place and new people that kept me going, we'll have to wait until next weekend to find out, watch this space....
So, after a well deserved sleep in on Saturday morning, the four of us met in our usual spot on Calle Toro before going off to explore our new city.  Armed with his newly purchased (and very useful) guidebook, Sebastian was able to enhance our trip and we became tourists for the day (If you can't beat them, join them!)

Like Durham, Salamanca has a cathedral (there are two, in fact!) which took almost two centuries to build, finally being consecrated in the early 18th century.  It is one of the first things you spot on the drive up to the city as it is on top of a hill, and therefore has become a welcoming sight.  It's amazing to see how many tourists are here taking photos, and I get to walk down these streets everyday - I'm certain it will never get old!

Here's me and Seun in front of 'La Casa de las Conchas' - there are many legends surrounding the reason why the building is covered in conchas (shells), but my favourite is that there is gold hidden beneath one of them, but no one knows which. In the background is 'La Clerecía', a building which is now part of the university.

'El Convento de San Esteban'

Although we covered a lot of ground, I still haven't seen everything there is to see in and around the city, and I am sure I will be demonstrating more tourist-like behaviour in the future!

After 5: When work is over!

This week after work, usually we do something fun, ie., going to a bar, to the pool or just for a wander around the city.  Sitting in the middle of the Plaza Mayor on Thursday with ice creams, we were discussing that being in the office all day makes us appreciate post work "freedom" much more.  When we finish at 5pm, the sun is still high in the sky, giving us plenty of time to enjoy our new home.  On Fridays we finish work at 4, and so we made the most of this and started the weekend early by finding the nearest outdoor swimming pool.

As you can probably see very clearly from this photograph, I am trying to get a tan, but it is clear I have a long way to go...

The view from the pool

Working 9 to 5...

Today I finished Day 2 working in the office of a huge language school. Apparently, I am a 'Sales and Marketing Intern', but it's amazing how many glamourous names there are for forwarding emails and deleting spam... Being in front of a computer all day is not ideal, and for those of you who are Durham language students too, you will be familiar with our dear friend Roger's warning about not getting a job where you are on a computer all the time...oops! However, my colleagues are lovely, we speak Spanish in the office but everyone speaks English, as well as many other languages! The sales team has to be international since obviously there are people calling from all over the world, so it's really interesting to hear Italian coming from the desk next to me, and German or French opposite. There are other interns too, but they are on the E-team, which involves writing articles and blogs in their native language to form part of the publicity for the language school.  To my surprise, when I arrived on my first day I saw Seun, another student from Durham, was a new intern too! The other interns are from all over the world, but I have my daily language lessons with Caterina, who is italian, and Sebastian and Michelle who are from Germany, but we all speak Spanish together.  We get on really well and we are all a similar age, so we have started going out together in the evenings.  Even though I didn't come home too  late last night (it was about half 12), somehow I managed to ignore my alarm clock.  Brilliant.  Fortunately I woke up with ten minutes to spare until I had to leave, so I grabbed an apple and ran. Well, walked briskly, I wasn't that late, and I am in Spain after all.  "What a horrible perpetuation of stereotypes!" I hear you cry. Normally I would apologise, except the first person in my section of the office was me....

Lazy Sunday...

Today I made the most of my freedom and slept in, before later heading out to explore the area. I'm glad I went shopping yesterday, since everything is closed on a Sunday.  Walking around the streets near my flat, I didn't see anybody else until I got to the Plaza Mayor.  However, the Plaza was filled with cafes and ice cream shops for the swarms of tourists....and for me!  

Not quite a Sunday roast, but I don't mind variety!

Home Sweet Home

My bedroom

I couldn't be without teddy!

Immediate First Impressions

Arriving yesterday evening, I felt better than I had expected.  Following an emotional couple of days saying goodbye to friends, Paul, and finally a tearful farewell with my parents at the airport, I assumed I would be an emotional wreck.  However, the plane journey passed quickly thanks to my friendly neighbour, and we chatted the whole way.
Although I am not one for stereotypes, whilst waiting for the bags I got my first indication of the laid back "mañana" attitude for which the Spanish are so famous.  For the first 40 minutes, the carousel was home to only a couple of battered cases, a tent pole and a tennis racquet, obviously left from a previous flight, until finally the bags from the Edinburgh flight arrived.
My flat and live-in landlords are great.  Carlos helped me up the stairs with my suitcases, and their eldest daughter, who is eight, immediately grabbed me by the hand and took me to her bedroom (which she shares with her younger sister) to introduce me to their 'Monster High' dolls.
My room is lovely (pictures to come) and I have been provided with nice bedding and towels.  One thing I have learnt is that my Spanish is not as good as I thought and excitable children are particularly hard to understand! I blame the lull after exams, my brain feels turned off!
After venturing to the supermarket in the evening, I can confirm that not everyone is as friendly as my new housemates...or maybe the grumpy cashier was just having a bad day?

My life in 20kgs...

Trying to pack everything I will need (or think I will need, or want) into a single suitcase has been somewhat stressful.  Considering I recently returned home from a year in Durham with approximately two car loads full of my belongings, it has been extremely hard to face up to the fact I will have to spend the next six months living with 20 kilos worth of stuff (plus whatever I can ram into my hand luggage).  It will be hot in Salamanca, but not in the evenings, and freezing in winter. Hair products and make up are heavy and thus take up valuable weight allowance, but they are either impossible to find in Spain, or extortionately priced. However, I must remember - clothes are only clothes.  I'm sure I can live without that extra blue cardigan, or those additional plimsolls, but I have been sure to pack as much as I can of what really matters.  Coming along with me will be the many photos of my wonderful friends, along with Ellie's handmade bunting, which have adorned my walls for the past few terms, as well as the thoughtful 'Bon Voyage' cards I received last week.  Hopefully I can surround myself with them even though I will be far from my friends in Durham for 3rd year.  After all, I won't need all of my clothes and shoes next year; it will be the memories of (and skype conversations with) friends and family, and the excitement of new experiences ahead that keep me going.

Plus, there'll be a huge Zara down the road...

The countdown has hit home..

...26 days to go...