Post Expectation Blues or Let the Big Things Begin

I'm not sure what I expected. In the same way I searched for a dramatic thunderclap or moving music when my family and I moved out of my childhood house over the summer to mark a significant event in my life, but didn't get either, I expected some sort of indication of big changes, big opportunities when I left for my gap year--you know, something that clearly indicated This Will Be a Year of Big Things and that It Has Started Now.

Instead I hugged my parents goodbye, and one delayed flight connection later, stumbled off of the plane, through customs, and BAM! I was in Spain, en route to in Segovia. And it felt the same but not the same as my life before.

To tell you the truth, a little (read: large) part of me had this fantasy that the moment I got to Spain, I'd suddenly become super outgoing, and make friends with all of the people, and learn all of the things, immediately--immediately being the key word here--and then spend the vast majority of my time strolling around Spain, perfectly comfortable and at home in my adopted environment.

Well, no surprise, nothing miraculous occurred when I got off the plane, nor did a transformation, nor a greek choir.

Despite remaining plain old me, I've had a good start here in España. When I arrived on Thursday, my host family was still enjoying their summer vacation in a small town (very, very small) an hour and a half drive north of Madrid. I joined them there in the sleepy little town. The best part of my arrival might have been that fact that my host mom and dad repeatedly said that they were really impressed with my spanish, although I'm not certain how they came about that decision, because I'm quite sure 90% of what I did for the first two days was smile, nod, and say "Sí."

It's was a looong first couple of days. But now I'm in Segovia, and I've met the rest of the students in my program, and I've spent two days wandering around, losing myself in the beautiful city. But I've also spent plenty of time stumbling over my words, asking "Qué? Qué? Qué?" a hundred times, and fighting to understand fast conversation.

Ricardo, my professor, told the other students and me that the first week is always the worst. Yep. That makes sense. But to be honest, if this is the worst it gets, than this is gonna be an amazing semester.