VISA IN HAND--Buen Viaje

Monday evening:
I arrive home from subbing and check the mail. Nothing. The mail carrier hasn't come yet. I lay down for a nap and wake up to the Fed-Ex truck driving away. I run downstairs to check the door for a delivery notification form taped to the door. Nothing. But I'm a bit relieved because, deep down, I'm not ready for the visa. I'm not ready to say goodbye.

Tuesday evening:
I pull up from work, knowing that the mail hasn't arrived yet. I start doing my daily "get-home" routine to hear the slamming of the mailboxes only an hour later. I run to the window, but the mail carrier doesn't get out of the car to ask me to sign for my precious, anticipated parcel. Instead he drives away, leaving lingering fumes that mock me. I'm still partially relieved, yet annoyed.

Wednesday evening:
I turn into the driveway from a long day of working and running errands. It's almost dark, and I see a large package at the door. I know that it's my backpack that I ordered for my pending trip. But could there be a notification form with it? I run to the package and toss it to the side when I see no such form attached. Now I'm just frustrated.

Why does Spain keep doing this to me? What did I ever do to Spain except love and embrace it? If anything, I'm helping the economy by contributing to the tourism industry. But, seemingly, Spain is not reciprocating the love.

Discouraged, I walk to the end of the driveway to the mailbox, where I'm convinced there's a pile of junk mail not even addressed to me. I start sorting through the catalogs and credit card offers, and there it is. A small, pink slip hiding between Better Homes and Cabela's.

I pause.

Fear. Excitement. Doubt. Faith. Dread. Eagerness.

"Sorry we missed you. We have a large envelope from: Span Con waiting for you at the following Post Office...."

It's here.





Ok. I'll start making this long story short. The following two hours consisted of hugs, tears, and rapid searches for plane tickets. So here it is everyone. The answer you have all been waiting for. I am leaving: Sunday, October 24, 2010 from Pittsburgh at 3:00 PM.

I'll arrive in Madrid at 8:15 AM local time and take the earliest train possible to Murcia.

I've talked to the girl from PA, Kat, who has been teaching in Murcia. She gave me directions to her apartment, and her roommate is out of town for two weeks. So I'm going to stay in his room until I find my own place, which hopefully won't take two weeks. Kat is the only reason I'm not frantically running around right now. God is so good, putting the right people in my life at the right time.

I've als been corresponding with my supervisor over there. Get this. I only work Tuesday-Thursday. My weekend is going to be longer than my week. That means a lot of traveling. Or no money, so little traveling. We'll see.

But another professor is still passing my resume around (the tutoring job fell through due to the extended wait time for my visa). She also found possible roommates for me.



So how do I feel about this? This isn't rhetorical. I'm still asking myself.

I'm not really scared of moving to a new country and starting a new job knowing practically nothing. I'm actually not scared at all (maybe because I'm not on the plane yet). I'm just scared to leave loved ones. Over the past year, I've learned firsthand that life can change instantly and permanently, and I hope I don't miss anything while I'm gone.

Yesterday was my last day subbing at MHS, and I said goodbye to many friends and colleagues that I've worked with for the past three years. My brother even came in and brought me lunch as a little goodbye gift (completely his idea). After school, I went around and made a couple house visits to say goodbye to more friends. It all started to sink in.

Furthermore, I've met someone amazing recently, and it's making it all the harder to pack my bags. It's not that I don't want to leave. It's just that I want to take him with me. (That's what's so hard about packing. He's 6'3" and doesn't fit in my suitcase easily.)

And I know what the majority of you are thinking: "Now? You go a year and half without a boyfriend, and you choose now to find one." (That's just been the general response.) But I didn't choose it. God did. In 23 years I haven't met a guy like him, and I know I won't meet another. Not even on the other side of the ocean.

So we've decided to continue our relationship long distance. Last night we spent hours testing out Skype, Google Talk, Google Voice, and other communication programs. I think we're going to have so much fun playing with these applications that we won't know what to do when we see each other. At least that's what I tell myself to cope.

Then there are my friends and family I'm going to miss. The past two weeks have consisted of visiting close ones, and it's been bittersweet enjoying everyone's company knowing that it won't happen for a while. I'll especially miss my immediate family (my cousin George) now included. I've been so blessed being able to visit my family at any moment's notice. I love meeting with my brother and George downtown in between classes, visiting my mother at work, or working around the house with my dad on our days off. My family is such a huge part of my daily life, so it will be hard going a possible 10 months without seeing them.

The drawback of being a Greek American.

But at the same time, I know that I have a strong support system of loved ones while I'm gone. And the job is only temporary. I'm not making a permanent decision, and God has it all planned out.

So how do I feel?

Confident.

And a bit unprepared. I better get back to packing and planning.

Next blog post will most likely be when I get to Spain. I'll miss all of you. But I'll see you in Mucia!

Hasta España.

P.S. Don't miss the new poll!