11 months, 13 flights, 14 bus rides and some 30 train journeys later, and I’m back home, sitting on my sofa, exactly where I started all those months ago. The difference is that now I can picture so many places and situations I’d never even thought about before I left. I couldn’t imagine a botellon, a Spanish carnival, snow in Andalucia, my Spanish flatmates (or my Italian ones for that matter), Granada or Verona, a foreign university, the Arena in Verona, Lake Garda, Sunday night jazz sessions, the atmosphere when Italy play football, an Erasmus party, the excitement of seeing a familiar face, the kindness of strangers, the sweet sweet taste of Italian gelato.
I’m going to continue this entry in a questionnaire format, as a memory for me and to avoid the inevitable slide into cheesiness.
Best day- Final Sunday BBQ in Italy out in the countryside with my flatmates and
friends.
Worst day- 1st November, the day after Meredith Kercher was killed in Perugia, it
was a terrible tragedy, an awful shock, and far too close to home.
Best Night- Cadiz Carneval. After a day of exams, we hopped on the bus to an all
night carneval dressed as tigers.
The first big dinner at my flat in Italy, when I realised what a sociable,
And slightly wild flat this was going to be.
Worst night- 6th January 2008. When you come back after Christmas to an empty flat
with no food, ring somebody and go out, DON’T sit in on your own.
Most stressful moment- 1st public oral exam in Italy. 100 people listening to you,
attempting to blag in a foreign language about something that
you suddenly realise you know very little about.
Biggest achievement- Teaching English to 25 reluctant, too-cool-for-art skool 17year
olds, after which I truly believe I could enthusiastically lend
myself to any situation.
Worst hangover- It’s a toss up between post Halloween crawling into bed at
8.30am only to wake 10hours later feeling like I’d been run
over by a train, and post toga party where I was put into bed
hilariously joking I was already there (as I was wearing my
bedsheet…) I know, terrible, I paid for this comment later…for
weeks later.
Best view- The Alhambra from the roof terrace of a hidden away teteria in the
Albayzin, or the view from my flat living room window of the Arena
where they perform the Opera, particularly spectacular the night of a huge hail storm in June….yes, June.
Longest queue at an Internaional Office- 2 hours, Granada
Favourite drink- Verona’s Spritz Aperol just takes over the edge over Granada’s tinto
de verano.
Favourite people- Alberto, Kepler, Lorenzo, Daniel, Federica, Macarena for the
natives and Alice,Yaelle, Silvia, Lisa and Sophie for some of us lot.
Least favourite people- No comment, there’s always people you meet once and are
glad that your situation means you needn’t cross paths again.
Most embarrassing moment- mistaking wet wipe toilet roll for cleansing wipes, before
insisting that I’d keep them in my room.
Quote of the year- È una festa, non è che deve seguire una logica. It translates as, It’s
a party, not something that has to follow any logic.
I think I’ll leave it with that. An unforgettable experience with highs far outweighing lows. I’ll be back in Spain and Italy before too long, just got some wee tests at the end of next year to get through and I’m good to go again. But for now, I’m happy here, with a bowl of strawberries watching Andy Murray. Over and out.
