Here We Go Again: Day 1, Madrid
It’s hard to believe it’s been ten years since my sister, Megan, and I travelled to Europe together for the first time. For roughly two months, we trekked through extreme highs and lows around the Netherlands, France, Italy, Greece, Croatia, Germany, and Belgium. In a way, being back feels like riding a bike; I don’t feel like a fish out of water this time. I can only credit that to an additional decade of life experience. It’s not quite how I planned on getting here, but if there’s one lesson I’ve been mastering in life lately, it’s how to pivot.
It was during a family vacation to Mexico in March when I decided to leave Austin, Texas, and move to Spain to teach English for the 2025-26 school year (nothing like the high of a sunny beach and cerveza to get you to question your life). I was feeling the weight of my 30s, and after a very long and difficult year, I was ready to move again — to get back on the horse and start living the life I always imagined for myself. I was serving then — a financial blessing at the time, but a temporary means to an end. I wanted to teach again, but wasn’t sure how exactly. The traditional classroom didn’t quite offer the flexibility, nor the style of teaching, you could say, that I envisioned. I also didn’t have the greatest first experience. Additionally, I have a very relentless travel bug inside of me that’s always ever so slightly boiling just beneath my surface. I’m still not sure if it’s a calling or a trauma response.
So, I started Googling and stumbled upon the English Language Assistant program in Spain, combining my love for teaching and travel. It wasn’t a lead position, so I wouldn’t have to worry about lesson planning and conversing with parents in Spanish. Although I must say, my Spanish has come quite a long way in the past six months, especially for having taken French in high school. And most importantly, it was paid. Perfect. The organization I joined the program through, RVF International, acted as a middleman to the Spanish Ministry of Education, who were the ones actually “employing” us. I say employed, but, technically, we were just volunteers/interns/students being paid a monthly stipend. RVF would help with everything from visa applications to housing and being our personal liaison to the Spanish ministry. Not long after joining and putting down a debatably non-refundable $1,800 fee, I got placed in my first-pick region of the historical (and warm) Andalucia *insert Spanish accent here*. I was so giddy, I ran off pure excitement for a solid week. I booked my non-refundable, albeit somewhat flexible, plane ticket and was set to leave for Madrid on September 22nd.
That being said, you can imagine the disappointment I felt come the end of July when I received news the program would be cancelled due to a lawsuit between the Spanish Ministry of Labor and Education departments — something about the language assistants not paying their fair share in social security. There was a chance of reassignment to another region, but by August, I was already mentally checked out of the program, not really having any hopes of being redistributed. Although I had happily moved back home to Minnesota for the summer to spend quality time with family, friends, pets, and babies before moving to Spain, I was feeling rather stuck being back in the hometown I had no interest in returning to on purpose. But with the school year quickly approaching and having no desire to serve again, I started applying for long-term teaching/sub positions right away and imagining a beautiful life here with my friends and family (however long or short-lived). You could say I pivoted rather quickly and had interviews within the week.
Then, I met with my intuitive psychic. Whether you believe in that kind of stuff or not, she did encourage me to go to Spain despite the program cancellation (not that she had to push me very hard). So, just like all those years ago with our fingers hovering over the “purchase plane ticket to Amsterdam” button, I jumped. I wasn’t really sure of anything other than I had a nonrefundable plane ticket to Spain, nine months’ worth of savings in my bank account, and that travel bug boiling beneath my surface. I reached out to a few other girls (also in limbo) from the same program that had been cancelled, and within a week, we were making reservations and booking tickets.
It was a whirlwind for the rest of the month before our flight in September. On top of last-minute packing and planning, I took this opportunity to update my wardrobe that was stuck in my 20s and should have been slashed years ago. For a month, I was in a packing twilight zone. When I finally came back to Earth weeks later, it was like coming out of a virtual reality game. Needless to say, I am not overly proud of how many Amazon packages I received — and returned. As I stood on our untrustworthy home scale holding my suitcase like a bodyweight, sweat dripping down my brow, I prayed for a number that wouldn’t cost me extra baggage fees or the steamer and five pairs of shoes I desperately wanted to take with me. The number steadied itself…47 pounds on a sketchy scale. I’ll take it.
On September 22nd, everything was perfect aside from the zit on my chin that I lost my willpower on. Already feeling a little homesick, I said goodbye to the fam, including the four cats we’d collected in the span of a year, feeling grateful for the summer with them I was blessed with. After living in Texas for 3+ years and only seeing my family up to three times a year, and not always all at once, I was getting used to their 24-7 company. I think I was also getting used to the comfort of home and feeling the anxiety that comes with change and the unknown. My dad drove me to the airport that morning. We sat in silence, not for a lack of words but because nothing needed to be said. We spent a lot of our summer together, both being either temporarily or permanently retired.
Upon arriving at the airport, saying my final goodbyes, and figuring out how to check in on a codeshared flight (I was flying a United plane booked through Lufthansa), the moment of truth had arrived. Was I going to have to cough up the extra cash? Were the five pairs of shoes worth it? The release I felt as the attendant took my bag and waived me off can not be understated. Not that it would have been the end of the world. You would think I would have learned my lesson on overpacking years ago when Megan and I left half our belongings in Venice due to the sheer weight of our backpacks, but no. As much as I didn’t want to overpack, I didn’t want to rough it out or tire of the same outfits like last time, especially since we would have an Airbnb for a month in Cordoba. So, I had made a decision that I was going to prioritize a bit more luxury this time around, which not only included the closet of shoes and a steamer, but ten pounds of skin and hair care. However, I believed I compensated ignoring that lesson by learning a different lesson instead - using a suitcase instead of the large purple back-breaker. Although the small backpack I did bring seems to strain just as heavily on my neck arthritis. It also probably doesn’t help that, according the masseuse I saw this summer, I have deteriorated all upper back muscles. On the plus side, the ab workout is phenomenal.
My journey started with a flight from Minneapolis to D.C. where I got the first taste of my future in Spain. Overhearing some Spanish speakers at my gate to Madrid made everything feel closer, more real. It was soothing, somehow, or maybe it was excitement I felt — the thrill of adventure, something new, something else, something different. It was a feeling that a new life, a new chapter, was waiting for me just around the corner. On top of that, writing and taking running notes for my blog again brought a fuzzy feeling of remembering and renewal. I had forgotten how much I actually love to write.
The seven-hour plane ride to Madrid was warm and sunny. Cottonball clouds filled the air, and I was comfortable with my aisle seat and the crocheted neck pillow Megan made for me, which also doubled as a way to smuggle in two more sweaters. As I had not slept well the night before, and I would be landing in Madrid at 9 a.m. the next day, I had every intention of sleeping on the plane. To no surprise, I did not, could not, sleep much at all. Instead, I watched Dune, wrestled with my period cramps and POTS palpitations, and listened to a very inspiring Danny Morell podcast. His words washed away any nerves I had left and put me into a much-needed, abundant, confident, and empowered mindset upon my arrival in Europe.
Going through customs in Madrid was a breeze. The Google-translated paragraph of a drawn-out explanation as to why I don’t have a return ticket or any concrete plans moving forward was not needed. Aside from a formal “hola”, no words were exchanged, no questions asked, and a stamp of approval sent me on my way. Not even out of the airport yet, I was quickly reminded how necessary it is to reach out for help when needed. I had purchased an eSIM from Airalo, and without it working, my chance of getting to my hostel was uncomfortably dreary. Luckily, an eSIM station including a friendly eSIM employee stood just feet away, patiently waiting for me to give up and ask for help. Not even a few swipes and one minute later, my eSIM hero knew exactly what needed to be done, and I was on my way again.
It took me a bit to find the Uber pick-up location, which was not good for my heart palpitations that worsened with sleep deprivation, dehydration, and intense physical exertion. With my driver already here (somewhere), I had to hastily trek myself, my not-so-light backpack, and 47 pound suitcase up a not-so-short flight of stairs before my Uber took off and I was out 30 euros on my first day. I was already having PTSD flashbacks to all the stressful travel days my sister and I faced years ago. Luckily, I was in Spain and my driver was waiting patiently for me up the stairs, trunk open, and a smile on his face, ready to greet me. A silent half an hour Uber ride later (because I was too tired to test my Spanish and was still coming down from my heart palpitations), I made it to my hostel downtown Madrid called Siesta y Go. I chose this one specifically, not only for its price, but for the ability to check in early for a fee (a fee I was happy to oblige) as long as my bed was ready —luckily, it was. I was happy to see a dark room and curtains on the bed, something I don’t remember having on any of my hostel beds in the past. My body thanked me as I sprawled out on the mattress. As much of a blessing as it would be to immediately crash and catch up on sleep, I would certainly pay the consequences later…
After a much too long nap at the hostel, I finally dragged myself out of bed to find some dinner that I knew I would regret not getting up for. I walked the blocks around my hostel. There were many shops and restaurants, but I finally settled on one called Cafeteria Alfe that looked quiet, easy, cheap, and comfortable. I ordered a large piece of chicken that was very delicious for how quickly it came out, and a refreshing side salad that I had to work for. I didn’t bring my tablet for reading (upon many suggestions, I started A Court of Thorns and Roses), so I people-watched as I tried to take my time with my food (as Spaniards do), but all I really wanted to do was go back to the hostel, shower, and go back to bed. I decided I wasn’t going to force myself to linger or finish the beer I really didn’t like, nor wanted (it seemed to be the only option my server was giving me). So, I took in the last few moments, being mindful of where I was, and paid my check. It wasn’t long before I was back at my hostel, showered, and horizontal on my bed.
Travel tips I learned this day:
Regarding codeshare flights: Check in with the carrier whose plane is actually flying, not necessarily the one you purched the ticket from.
When boarding an international flight (a plane that has two aisles), check to see which side of the aisle you are on first before trekking down one at random. If not, you might end up planting your carry-on bag on the wrong side, which causes problems later when deboarding, and have to topple over a row of people to get to your seat. Not recommended.
I do recommend invensting in a small baggage scale to avoid fees or anxiety when checking in your hold luggage. You can find them on Amazon or at Target for $10. I didn’t bring it with me, but was aware of what and how I packed my luggage to gauge it’s weight throughout the trip.
How to get to the Madrid Airport Uber pickup location: When you exit the airport, go across both pick-up lanes after exiting the airport. You will go up a flight of stairs to a parking lot on your right. Your Uber will most likely be parked and waiting for you just on top of the stairs.
In regards to eSIMs: Make sure your data roaming is turned on in order to activate your eSIM data. In an Android phone you can find this in your Settings > Connections > Mobile Networks. Otherwise, just start searching “Data Roaming” in your Setting’s search box.
Whatever you do, DON’T sleep during the day once you arrive at your destination if your new timezone is a good seven hours ahead. I don’t care how tired you are. Tough it out, or you will pay the consequences of jet lag. Sleep in the next day if you must, but don’t sleep upon arrival, not if you arrive during the morning/day.
